For Him - Shawn Mendes

AND explode in high schools

HANNAH

Rumours spread like wildfire and explode in high schools.

As I sheepishly wandered up to my room that night I pulled out my phone. Collapsing on my bed, I gasped at the number of texts I had -most of which were from unknown numbers.

The majority of them were nice, as a flood of messages from girls I had little classes with texted things like, I hope you're okay. Must be hard being replaced by a celebrity. And although I'm sure they all had great intentions, I couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness beneath them.

The other percentage of my notifications were from people tagging me in the picture posted by Camila. It annoyed me that it was sweet, a photo of them singing with a message beneath wishing Shawn a quick recovering. People asked me if I knew about it. Was I hurt?

I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting.

With the edge of my blanket I wiped beneath my eyes, paranoid that someone would burst into my room and ask how the concert was. I knew I'd have to lie to Dad, to tell him I had the best time of my life and that I got to give Shawn's birthday present to him.

I'd have to hide the present under my bed. My insides deflated at the thought of it, and as I read all the comments beneath her post I had to remind myself Shawn was just my friend.

He could do whatever the hell he wanted. But does that mean he should have?

My door opened, and I sighed, not mentally prepared to lie to my Dad yet. But it wasn't him, it was Riley. And behind Riley was Brian, who stood beside Rayah and Ian, with Emily hidden behind them.

"Guys?" I asked, sitting up, "What're you doing here?"

Riley smiled at me, taking my hand as I stood up. I glanced at him sideways with a smile, wondering what they were doing in my house at 8pm.

"We have 25 days left of Summer vacation," Riley stated, gathering everyone around in a circle on the carpet of my room, "and this bitch just got his license."

We laughed, as if this would elude to the end of the world. Riley, on the road? Disaster.

"And my mother," Riley went on, trying his hardest to keep a straight face, "was kind enough to donate me her people-mover."

Brian exploded, his laughter reaching deafening frequencies as he keeled over, "Dude, no way."

Riley put a single finger up, signalling that there was more. "Now, before you all go on about how many chicks I'm gonna pull in that thing," This time even he laughed, "Squad is going on a road trip."

"A road trip?" Emily asked, raising her eyebrows, "to where?"

With a mischievous grin Riley lowered his voice, his best (but still not great) Boston accent plastered over his Canadian one, "I'm glad you asked. Well we're goin' to the Big Apple."

I offered him a blank stare in utter disbelief. "Really?" I'd never been to America, and the idea of going there with my friends made me giddy. "Holy shit."

We sat in silence as electric waves of happiness bounced around the group. Riley grinned, "Pack your bags children, we leave in two days."

SHAWN

15th of August, 2014

I shift in my seat as Cam's contact fills the screen. It rings once, then twice, and I wonder if this is the right decision to make.

"Shawn?" Cam yells into the phone. Behind him I can hear background music, and people cheering. He disappears for a moment until he's in a quieter environment. "What's up Canadian hoe?"

I gulp. "Cam," I try to sound as upbeat as possible, but every single time I close my eyes I see reporters. "I, uh."

"Mate, what's wrong?"

He'll hate you, I tell myself, just like all the others. I groan.

"Shawn?" Cam goes on, his voice stern, "Where are you?"

"Manchester," I reply, "I, uh, have a flight to New York in half an hour."

Cam smiles behind the phone, "I'm in Brookyln."

"I know," I say, cringing at how creepy it sounds. "your uh, Instagram."

He doesn't reply for a while, and when he does there's noise again, "I'll text you my hotel room number in a second. Meet me there, yeah?"

"Yeah," I muster.

Cam sighs, "Hold out kiddo."

My flight's called and I find myself not wanting to talk to Andrew. I'm mad at him. For this, for everything. And I know I owe more to him than I could ever fathom but he's being irrational and it hurts.

My head, it's a complete mess.

SHAWN

15th of August, 2014

I tell Geoff to tell my manager that I'm going to explore New York alone.

A yellow cab rolls into the lane beside me and I step hesitantly into it. I wish I had Hannah's hand to grasp, but I know that's like wishing for Mum back.

If I tell Cam, I wonder, will he hate me the way I hate myself?

I grip the seat as the driver changes lanes, and my eyes press themselves together. 1.3 million people die of car accidents a year. That's roughly 3,287 a day. Today, I force, it won't be me.

It takes me a moment to realise we've reached Brookyln. I really want to believe that over time this will become easier, but as I hand the driver $18.50, the whole top half of my body is clouded, and I have to grip a lamp post once he's driven away.

Cam opens the door on the first knock. He engulfs me in a hug so warm I allow myself to crumble beneath him. From just his embrace, I maintain that coming here was a good decision.

"Sit," Cam says, motioning to the sofa in the corner of his hotel room, "and tell me what's up."

I close my eyes as I sit down, the reality of the situation tying knots in my stomach. I rack my brain for every possible excuse. He'll hate me if I tell him the truth.

"The tour," I begin, "it's stressful, I guess."

Which is true. This is what I tell myself. I am not lying, because it is partially true.

"Shawn," Cam pauses, plopping himself on the sofa beside me, "I'm going to sound like your grandmother when I say this," he leans forward, his eyes focused on me, "so don't laugh. But, you, my friend, are an open book."

I lick my bottom lip, "What's that suppose to mean?" I hate that it comes out as more of a grumble.

"It means, Shawn Mendes," Cam leans back again, his brown hair flying backwards, "that you can't lie for shit."

"I'm not lying." I lie.

Cam chuckles, "You're picking at your thumbs, kiddo."

I hide my hands beneath my legs.

"Look me in the eye," Cam challenges, "and tell me you drove from New York to Brooklyn because the only thing worrying you was the tour."

I look down.

"Now, I don't want to pressure you into telling me anything," Cam smiles, "but the ending of Magcon doesn't mean the ending of our friendship. You can trust me."