Ambivalence// Timothée Chalamet

Huit

"I'm so full," I groaned as we made the short walk back to the Bowery. 

  "Yeah, me too. And we still have more to eat." He held up his bag as evidence.

We walked into the hotel and straight to the elevator.

  "Thanks again for paying," I said as we stepped off the elevator and onto our floor.

     "It's no big deal."

     I shook my head. "Yes it is. You're too kind." 

     When we reached our doors, we exchanged quick and exhausted good-byes. 

     The first thing I did when I entered my room was put my food away in a mini fridge under the large desk in my room. After dropping my bag onto an empty chair, my nightly routine commenced. 

     My shower was extra long shower. Nothing could replace the great feeling of hot water spilling onto my skin and seeping through my hair. I lathered myself in soap as I reminisced today's day.
Everything moved at a fast, odd pace. Just last week I was expecting to work with Jodie Comer- I never would have thought that working with Timothée was a possibility. And just last week I despised Timothée and now I somewhat enjoyed his presence. This all seemed unreal. 

     I rinsed off the soap before climbing out of the shower and drying myself with a towel. My pajamas consisted of a random t-shirt and silk pajama bottoms. 

     I wiped the fog off of the mirror and took a good look at myself. My disbelief of everything had shown in my dazed eyes. The tire it brought on had manifested itself in the dark circles under my eyes. They had become darker than usual.

     I stared at myself for a moment before bringing myself back to reality.

     My fingers massaged honey-infused hair product and mint-leave scented oil into my wet mass of soaking curls. I used my fingers to detangle my hair- combing or brushing it would damage my fragile strands.

  Both of my hands were occupied with braiding my hair, and so I used my elbow to turn off the light. Then, I walked to my bed and plopped down. 

     Braiding my hair didn't seem to take too long with T.V helping to pass the time. But, the T.V couldn't distract me from the ache in my arms.

     As I was finishing the last braid, I heard knocking at my door. My guess was that it was Timothée. Why? I had no idea.

   I tucked a few braids behind my ears as I walked over to the door. I looked through the peep hole, and sure enough it was Timothée. 

     "It's late," I said after opening my door. 

     "I know," he murmured before pushing past me. He was in his pajamas too- a white shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms. So, he was ready to sleep but couldn't. 

     I closed my door and schooled the slight panic out of my face. "What are you doing here? You can't just come into my room. And, I need to go to sleep." 

     "I'm a nervous flyer," he admitted. He walked over to my windows and studied the nocturnal city. 

     "Why?" I asked before sitting on the edge of my bed. 

     Timothée turned and looked at me, slightly tilting his head in question. The light of the city illuminated half of his face. "I think you know why."

     "I want you to tell me why."

     "Well obviously because I don't want to end up in a fiery crash," he bluntly explained. "I have too many things I want to do and too many people I love." He turned back towards the window. 

     "You do know that flying is the safest method of travel, right?"

     "Yeah, but that doesn't make me feel any better."

     "Well, being nervous won't make you feel any better, either. You should focus on all of the cool things about flying. It's safe, the views are spectacular, and well, it could be relaxing if you wanted it to be," I explained. "I'll distract you tomorrow, okay? We can play games, watch movies, and do whatever you want to do."

     Timothée chuckled to himself. "I've done this so many times and I'm still terrified. But I guess it won't be so bad tomorrow if you help keep me busy."

     "I will. I'll keep you so busy that you'll eventually forget that you're even on an airplane." I paused. "No, I'll keep you so busy that you won't want to even leave the airplane."

     At that, Timothée shook his head in laughter. 

     "We'll be fine, okay?" I promised. He turned and softly smiled in response. 

     "It's a miracle how fast we pushed aside our hatred for each other," He mused. I moved from the edge of my bed and joined him.

     "Hate is a strong word," I said. I was being highly hypocritical, as I had used that word a lot myself. But, the word didn't seem like it belonged in association with him. "We just disliked each other for too many reasons."

     "Not stupid reasons, but... it was stupid for us to not give each other a second chance at first. People change."

     You two love to hate each other. It's what keeps you guys together. Those words echoed through my mind. More than ever, Audrey was right. 

     "I wasn't hurt anymore. I mean, when all of the stuff went down between us and even one or two months after I left Le Chambon, I was hurt. But I wasn't hurt when I saw you at the party," I lied. Because I was hurt. 

     After every fight we had, after every time I left him or he left me, I was hurt. We broke each other by avoiding the acknowledgment of our feelings for each other. It was easier to be angry at him for "potentially jeopardizing my project". It was easier for him to angry at me for "potentially jeopardizing his time with his family". If both were completely true, we could have just stopped seeing each other. But we didn't, and we didn't want to until we drove each other away.

     I hadn't spent my life thinking about him every day after Le Chambon, but every now and then I'd be reminded of him and feel heartbroken. And at the party, despising him was much easier than revisiting the feelings of heartbreak.

     Even now it was hard to be with him without being reminded of whom I fell in love with. 

     "Me neither." was all he said, nearly inaudible. We stood there for a little while before he turned away from the window. "I guess I should go back to my room. Get some sleep."

     I placed a hand on his back and pushed him all the way to my hotel room's door. "Yeah. I need some sleep, too."

     "Was my company that bad?" He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

     I shook my head. "No, not at all. Good night, Timothée."

     "Good night, Nadia. See you tomorrow." And with that, he gave me a warm smile and left. 

     I heavily sighed and walked back to my bed. After I settled in and laid down, I blanked at the ceiling. I couldn't sleep, even though I was exhausted. And I felt so many feelings that were so hard to decipher that I ended up feeling empty.