Juicy ~ Timothée Chalamet (Timothée OC's)

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES 3

I let the mirror fog a little before stepping into the nearly scalding shower, letting the water drench my head and will my emotions to circle down the drain along with any other dirt and grime covering me.

I could live in a shower.

This is the only place where nothing matters, and if I wanted to, I could forget my entire life under a shower head. Forget how my mom left me to take care of myself growing up, forget how my dad died and left me all the same.

Forget every shitty thing that has happened to me so far. 

But those are thoughts for another time, because right now I feel and think nothing.

I wash my body, exfoliate, shave my legs, and wash my hair, wash my face.

Showers are therapeutic.

I turn the tap off, pat myself dry, and continue with my routine until I'm fully lotioned and moisturized. I wrap the towel around myself, it was a little small thanks to a laundry mishap, and step out only to run smack into Timotheé. The impact makes me jump back, which results in me letting go of one side of the towel in surprise, ultimately revealing a glimpse of my left tit.

Why me?

I scramble to regain control of the corner, "Woahh," He steps back and looks toward the ceiling, my hair leaving a wet spot on his shirt, "You're wet- I mean- just that,"

"I'm so sorry-" I started, my eyes wide and cheeks burning so badly I could start a fire.

"No! I'm sorry, sorry I- I was gonna ask if you um add water, um-" He chokes on his words, he laughs awkwardly and his eyes flicker down to my damp form.

"They're very nice." A grin starting to paint his face, eyes focused back on the ceiling.

"You- I'm just- goodbye Timotheé- bye." I stutter. I rush into my room and close the door cutting him off.

I lean my head against the door and shut my eyes tight, "Oh my fucking god." I whisper-scream.

I take a deep breath and pull on an oversized t-shirt and shorts. I brushed my hair out and set off to making my way out of my room. I grip the handle and pause.

It didn't happen, just act like it didn't happen. He definitely didn't see your tit. Normal, act normal.

Finally gaining the balls, I open the door and trod to the kitchen only slightly awkwardly. He's bent over the pot, staring confused into the sauce now bubbling.

"Sauce trouble?" I step beside him and peer in.

"Is it supposed to be this watery?" He looks at me. I look at him then back at the pot.

Somehow, he managed to make the jar of sauce soupy. It looks more like V8 than any type of sauce, or even a soup. If anyone could fuck spaghetti up it would be Timotheé.

"Not at all." I look back up at him with a grin.

Very intellectual indeed.

We both look back into the pot, watching the tomato water boil. At least it still smells good.

"So...pizza?" I speak up.

"Yes. A thousand times yes. Thank fuck, I thought you were gonna make us eat this." He picks up the ladle and drops it back in, splattering the liquid over the edge of the pot. We both jump back.

"How the hell did you even manage to-"

"Please," He gives me a serious look, "Don't ask."

I laugh and pull my phone out, "Yes, hi, I need two pizzas for delivery please." I give Tim a pointed look and roll my eyes