The One After [SHAWN MENDES]

Chapter 32

"Hello," I snapped without even trying to hide my anger.

"Sorry I didn't call earlier-" Shawn started.

I cut him off because I didn't need an apology; I needed answers. "That's okay. I saw that you've been busy." My sarcastic tone caused Briya to cackle loudly.

"Is someone else there?" he asked.

"What makes you say that?"

He let out a sigh. "Lucy, I just heard laughter. Can we talk alone, please?"

"You aren't on speaker so what does it matter?"

After a brief pause, Shawn asked, "Have you been drinking?"

"I had a couple tequila shots tonight."

"I'm gonna go. We can talk later when you're sober and no one is there listening in."

"Wait!" I said loudly before he ended the call. "Why didn't you tell me that the real reason you didn't want me to come to Miami is because you had plans with your ex- or maybe not so ex- girlfriend?"

"I'm not getting into this with you right now," he replied with obvious frustration. "We'll talk later."

And then he was gone.

"What a dick," I said as I reached for the tequila bottle.

"We could hear everything and he was right," Fallon asserted. "You shouldn't have confronted him when you are drunk or when we're here. No matter what he has to say, he deserves to be heard. You need to stop drinking, get yourself to bed, and call him back in the morning."

"Fine." I stood up to go to my bedroom and felt a sudden wave of nausea. I ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

My friends cleaned me up and got me ready for bed. "We'll come see you after work tomorrow," Bri assured me.

I woke up the next morning as hungover as I'd ever been and felt substantial regrets about the shots I'd done. After brushing the lingering taste of vomit from my mouth, I went to the living room and saw that the girls had cleaned everything up. This was good because just seeing the tequila bottle would have made my stomach react violently.

I couldn't take coffee, so I opened my fridge and pulled out a large bottle of Diet Coke. The cold carbonation felt so good in my mouth even if it tasted terrible combined with the mint of my toothpaste. I fed Inky, ate a couple crackers, and sat down at the table to start work.

Around ten, I was still feeling like shit, and I knew the only cure for a hangover this bad was a greasy breakfast sandwich from the diner two blocks away. I put some sweats on, threw my hair up in a messy bun, and ventured out in the crisp October air.

"One bacon, egg, and cheese with extra cheese and mayo, to go, please," I said to the grizzled old man behind the counter.

Five minutes later I had my food, which I brought back to my apartment. As I exited the elevator, I was startled to see someone standing at my door, typing into his phone.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Shawn. I was too emotionally exhausted and hungover to know how I felt about his surprise appearance.

"I guess this explains why you weren't answering. I thought you saw me through the peephole and were being stubborn. Ignore the texts I sent you."

I unlocked the door and opened it up. "I didn't feel my phone vibrating in my purse. Come on in." I went straight to the kitchen and unwrapped my breakfast. "I'd offer you some, but I know you won't eat it."