Ambivalence// Timothée Chalamet

Dix Huit

     Somehow, the room was simple yet opulent. It was literally fit for a queen. I was in a state of awe as I walked further into the room. The room was bedecked in mostly light browns, dark brown, gold, and beige. The only pop of color came from the two navy blue pillows and folded blanket atop the bed. The bed was centered against a wall that was made of silvery-gold paneling and metalwork. On each side of it were two small white nightstands that held two gold lamps.

     Directly under the bed was a soft beige-colored carpet. On the wall to the right of the bed was a white table and matching chair, tastefully positioned next to the window that was draped in muted gold and beige colored curtains. Perfect. And of course, atop the desk was yet another gold lamp.

     I instantly moved my bags to the corner of the room to the right of my bed. I reached into one of my suitcases, pulled out my journal and pen, and set both on top of the desk.

     Surprisingly, the room didn't feel unwelcoming at all even though it was decorated in a lot of tones of gold. Most of the tones were soft, though, except for the lamps. And the dark brown wooden floors made the room feel relaxed and modern. Nonetheless, the room was absolutely gorgeous.

     I began to unpack. I hung certain garments in my closet first and put the rest in a dresser, and then arranged shoes on the closet floor. Next, I unpacked my toiletries and organized them in the bathroom. I sprawled documentation and identification over the desk in the main room, along with several other things: a charger, my wallet, etc...

     I took about fifteen minutes to unpack, and after that I lounged around my hotel room for an hour or so before giving up and going to visit Timothée out of slight boredom.

     "We should go out and explore Budapest. Let's go and explore Budapest." I suggested from Timothée's couch. His room was almost identical to mine, but instead of a desk he had a dark blue velvet couch in front of his bed. I was currently sitting on my knees and facing him instead of facing forward.

     "We should stay here and relax," Timothée responded, glancing over me. I frowned as he grabbed the remote from his nightstand.

     "Timothée," I groaned.

     "Nadia," he mocked.

     I rolled my eyes at him before turning my attention to the windows.

     "I'm going out to dinner with my cast members tonight, and I want you to come."

     I turned to him. "No, thanks. You should enjoy some time alone with the cast. I'll be fine here at the hotel." I didn't want to be that odd person that follows someone around, even though they weren't invited. Not only that, but I really didn't have any business being there- it was a dinner for cast members, not random writers.

     "I insist." He smiled. "You could write about my relationship with them, right?"

     "Aren't you all meeting for the first time? It's not like anything interesting or valuable will happen."

     "You won't know if you don't come."

     I sighed before sitting next to him. "I'll think about it."

     "Good." I let him reach over and grab my hand. He rubbed the back of it with his thumb as he channel surfed. "I'd like it if you were there."

     A lot of time passed before I realized that his arm had snaked around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

     "I'm going back to my room," I explained as I took his arm off of my waist.

     "Why?"