Y/N

_

I LET OUT THE MOST ear piercing shriek.

There I was, sitting in the comfort of my bed, drinking hot chocolate, when I got the email. At first I thought it was Adriana calling me into work overtime again, but then I saw the article.

Then another article, and another article, and another. I couldn't believe my eyes.

After hearing my blood-curling scream, Timothée came running into the room with a panicked expression on his face, and tripped over his own feet. Falling onto his face, he let out a painful groan.

"Oh my god," I scrambled, hopping out of the bed and rushing over to him, "are you okay?"

"You were the one screaming..." he mumbled, rubbing the side of his cheek, "ouch."

"Do you need me to get you some ice?"

"I'm fine, don't worry."

"Are you sure?"

"Just tell me what happened," the boy pouted, pressing his head into my shoulder.

I ruffled his hair, almost too excited to tell him. Grabbing his hand, I pulled him onto his feet, and pushed him onto the bed. He needed to be sitting when he heard the news.

"Adriana just emailed me," I squealed, shaking my hands.

"You hate it when she emails you, though."

"Well, yes..." I hesitated, "but that's not what this is about."

"Just tell me!"

I smiled, grabbing his hands. He seemed genuinely confused, but I really didn't want to lead up to it. Cutting to the chase, I started to jump up and down, spilling everything out.

"YOU'VE JUST BEEN NOMINATED FOR THE OSCARS!" I yelled.

He blinked at me for a second, his face expressionless. I tiled my head in confusion, listening as he let out a nervous laugh. I wasn't expecting this.

"Hah," he sighed, "very funny."

"Timothée, I'm not joking."

"No, no, it's all right, I already got the joke."

"I'm being serious."

Snatching my phone back up, I pulled up the article and shoved it in his face. It took him a while to read it, but then I saw something in his face change. He looked like a deer in headlights.

"OH MY GOD," he yelled, "THIS ISN'T HAPPENING!"

"IT IS!"

"IS THIS A PRANK?"

"NO! IT'S REAL, IT'S TOTALLY REAL!"

He couldn't even muster a scream, before collapsing into my arms again. I rested my head on top of his, squeezing him tightly in congratulations. After a few moments, I realized he still wasn't pulling away, and instead was letting out tiny chokes.

"Timmy..." I said softly, my shirt becoming damp, "...are you crying?"

No response. I could tell now that he was sobbing, and was too happy to let me go. I laughed, kissing his forehead in comfort.

"You deserve this," I assured, "it's okay, it's okay, don't cry."

"...am I dreaming?"

"No, you're not dreaming."

"I need to call my mom," he mumbled, leaning back to wipe his tears off with the back of his hand, "can I use your phone?"

"Of course," I smiled, handing it to him,

"Thank you."

"Do you want me to give you a moment?"

He nodded, sniffing quietly as he unlocked my phone. I left our room quickly, shutting the door behind me, and retreating to the kitchen. Not sure what to do, I started to poke around the kitchen and rearrange the fridge to get my mind off things.

How was any of this real? Timothée, the boy who I ran into on an NYC sidewalk, was now an oscar nominated actor. Not to mention, my boyfriend. I felt so much pride swelling up in me, I could barely breathe. A few minutes later, I heard the door to our room open, and Timothée wobbled out. He was still in shock.

"Hey," I smiled, "what did she say?"

He scrunched his face together, trying to stop himself from bursting out into tears again. Walking over to me, he slid his arms around my waist and hugged me for what felt like the millionth time that day.

"I want you to come with me," he mumbled into my ear.

"what?"

"I want you to be my date."

"To the Oscars?"

He nodded, staring at me with his eyes glazed over in hope. My breath hitched, a little bit shocked at his offer, but I shook my head.

"I shouldn't," I sighed, "this is your achievement, you need to celebrate it."

"Which is exactly why I want you there."

"What if I screw up? What if I embarrass you?"

"I wouldn't care," he nodded, "please?"

When I didn't respond, he nuzzled his head into the crook of neck, like a baby pony.

"Please," he begged, "I want to show you off."

I laughed, melting into the hug. I couldn't say no to him, even though I was scared I'd mess things up. Yet even with those thoughts, he somehow made me feel safe in his arms. I loved that feeling.

"Fine," I smiled, "what am I going to wear?"

_

This book is almost over
:(