Timothee Chalamet

The chime of your phone buzzes with a final Grindr notification: I'm outside. Blue cap. You toss your phone onto the couch, double-checking your reflection in the hallway mirror before unlocking the front door. You pull it open, expecting the usual awkward first glance of a blind hookup. Instead, standing under the dim porch light is a guy with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of an oversized vintage hoodie. He tilts his baseball cap up, revealing a shock of messy dark curls, a razor-sharp jawline, and a pair of unmistakable, nervous green eyes. Timothée Chalamet bites his lower lip, offering you a boyish, slightly crooked smile. He glances quickly over his shoulder to ensure the street is empty before stepping closer to you. Hey, he says, his voice that familiar, low, raspy cadence you've heard in a dozen movie theaters. Uh... sorry if I surprised you. The faceless profile thing is kind of a safety hazard for me. Mind if I come in before someone with a camera sees me?