It’s hard sometimes, waking up in different cities, different countries, different continents.

I’m shooting in Massachusetts all through October. Fine, I’ll be in L.A. then, Eastern Romania in November, Brisbane for Christmas. 

No one ever said that love was easy, especially not with schedules and distance in the way, so it was needless to say that you were quite proud of yourself. It had been four months since you’d last seen your boyfriend and now it was just one more week until January 3rd, the day of your big reunion. It’d be all laughs and smiles, your L.A. apartment, then his parent’s house in New York. Ten days of just the two of you, no meetings, no appointments, no work. But for now, you still had six days to get through, one hundred and forty-four hours without hearing his voice in person or smelling his cologne, one hundred and forty-four hours without his touch. 

Brisbane’s your home, Christmas your favorite holiday, and yet you feel lonely because he isn’t here with you. It’s pathetic, you know that, but you can’t stop pitying youself. To be so far from the person closest to you, so excluded from his day to day life, yearning to share even the smallest parts of yours with him.

You met three years ago, introduced by Saoirse on a night out while the two were shooting Lady Bird and you were in the middle of rehearsals for Ready Player One. Just a few weeks and three dates later, you’d fallen for him, head over heels and whole-heartedly, smitten by his charm, his humor, his everything. He was your everything, but you were never in the same place for long, shooting movies all over, going on press tours, practically living on opposite sides of the world. But all of that would be temporarily forgotten in a few days, you’d be together and happy, and then it was just three more months until you finally moved to New York.

“It won’t make that much of a difference, but at least the time zones won’t be completely messed up. And we’ll be closer in distance, which is also a nice change,” Timmy had said once you announced your decision. “Exactly. And when I miss you too much I’ll just go see your parents. They’re much cooler than you anyways.” You’re not wrong about that, darling.

Lissy stepped inside the sun room, phone in hand. You perked up. “Someone called three times. Bet it’s the same someone that broke the internet last week?”

“I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t,” you laughed, taking the phone from your sister. That, the part about Timmy breaking the internet, already had your breath turning heavy. He’d posted a picture, taken the year that you had spent Christmas together at his parent’s house, your back facing the camera but head turned over your shoulder, biting down on a truffle with a mischievous glance in your eyes, Timmy on the couch behind you, holding his arms out in preparation for an embrace. Moments after, you’d dropped into his grasp, shared the treat with him, cracked a joke or two. For now, till you come home to me, that had been the caption and you had cried about it on facetime, neither joyful nor miserable, just overwhelmed with gratitude.

You spoke on the phone for a bit, talking about the Christmas celebrations and family outings. All the good food and generous gifts.

“Granny Stokes got Lissy a popcorn maker, honestly the best idea ever, but she made us watch Titanic last night, much to the dismay of my dad. Did you like the present Pauline got for you?”

“I knew you were behind that! She insisted that she came up with the idea, but you were the only one I told about that brand.”

You grinned to yourself, tracing the sequined cushion on you parent’s couch. “My bad. Judging by the amount of pictures you sent me on Instagram I thought that you couldn’t shut up about it in real life too. But it’s time for them to get recognized, their tees are the best.”

Something rustled on the line. “Are you outside?”

“No, just closing the window. It’s so cold in New York, you’d probably freeze to death,” Timmy said, his voice far from the speaker. You bit your lip. “Well, I’d have you to warm me up, wouldn’t I?”

There was more noise, then he was back on the phone. “Hey, quick question. Have you found an outfit for your mom’s theme party?”

“I could basically wear everything, but I think I’ll go for shorts and a checkered button-down. Apparently Glamping’s much more about the decoration anyways and my mom went super overboard, I’m not kidding. It’s even more serious than last year’s flamingo luau. She’s got tipis and .”

Timmy laughed slightly and you straightened up on the couch, delighting in the softness of him. “Can’t wait to see the pictures.”

“And what about you? Everything settled for New Year’s Eve?”

“Yeah, basically,” he said, then paused. “My mom’s making potato salad for dinner and I’m going out with Phil and the lot.”

You grimaced at his tone. He sounded less than excited, tired even. A glance at your watch and you knew it was two am in New York.

“I just really miss you, love. Wish I could spend some time with you, have you in my arms.”

“‘S not that long till the 3rd, baby.”

He whined, kind of, and even though it was endearing, you had to laugh a bit. “But I miss you too, if that helps.”

“Hmm. Makes it worse, actually.”

“Okay, one last try then,” you said quietly, murmuring almost, and hoped that Lissy was well out of earshot. “I have something just for you. It’s hidden in the back of my closet and I think it might get me in trouble. Likereal trouble, if you know what I mean.”

“Babe,” he said, amused, “Did you go on another La Perla splurge?”

You frowned. “Wow, Timothée. You’re ruining all my fun.”

“Just trying to keep it all together here.”

A small smile formed on your lips, a tingle in your stomach. “What, miss me so much that we can’t even have phone ?”

“It’s called anticipation, love. Some things are worth waiting for.”

You scoffed playfully, but your smile became wide, almost hurtful. “Well, my mom warned me. You’re way too ing sweet.”

“Some might even say romantic.”

“Or cheesy.” Sarcasm dripped from your voice, but it was just teasing. You were always on board with romance, corny or not, and your hands were already becoming sweaty at the thought of reuniting with Tim.

“Whatever it is, I don’t remember you complaining,” he remarked, sounding half-asleep. You imagined him tucked in bed in his apartment, wearing thick pyjamas and wrapped in blanket upon blanket while you were in shorts and tank, tan lines on your torso from countless hours on the beach.

“Timmy?”

“Yeah?”

You laid on your back, closed your eyes.

“I love you.”

He paused and you listened to him breathe, yearning to be beside him, in his arms, feeling him on your skin, his breath, his warmth, his hands. Six days to go, one hundred and forty-four hours. Less than a full week and you’d finally be able to kiss him.

“I love you too.” His voice was barely above a whisper and your heart ached. “Can you stay on the phone until I fall asleep?”

It’s hard sometimes, waking up in different cities, being so far from the person you’re closest to. 

“Of course, baby.”

But some things are worth the wait.