Crookedly in Love {a Shawn Mendes Fan Fiction}

39. Needing Stitches

If I'm being honest, the days after our fight were a blur. I can't remember which day was which. They all melted together into one big downward spiral. I called him the day after we had fought at Camila's party. The day after we yelled at one another what we were actually feeling. No more holding back. It was all out in the open.

And I'm pretty sure all he thought was that I used him. That I played his heart like he did mine just to advance my career. And he couldn't wrap his mind around why I would do that.

But, I could say the same thing to him. I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that he would risk our friendship for his career. To advance his own career. And I still loved him. That was the different. It wasn't that I was using him. I loved him, I wanted him.

There was just that one thing I couldn't get past. And it broke us. I knew it would, I just didn't think it would happen so soon.

It had been two weeks since we talked. We were supposed to have a hit song in to Nelson Paul by the end of this week. I was freaking out. I was still locked down by a contract.

"Shawn," I said, into my phone. "This is the seventh voicemail I've left for you. I'm not going to stop calling you. I know you have your phone on you."

I took in a deep breath.

"Look, we both said things the other didn't want to hear that night. But, I still care for you. I still care so much about you. I don't want our..."

Friendship? Relationship?

"Our...us," I stumbled, "to end like this. Please. We have to get together to write a song at least. Just please call me back."

I hung up the phone with defeat. There was no way he was getting back to me. There was just no way.

I chucked my phone at my bed because I couldn't bear to even think about what had happened anymore. I had been torturing myself with the fight for two weeks now. I had been replaying our conversation over and over, listening to his words.

I didn't ask you to pull out your guitar when we were twelve and show me a song you wrote.

So this was my fault. For being twelve. For having a guitar. I refused to feel guilty about this. He had this coming.

There was a knock on my door. I jumped up. I knew there was no chance it would be Shawn, but a little part of me believed it could be.

"Come in," I said, sighing.

Camila walked in, and I tilted my head. I sat up, and she looked extremely serious. Something inside of me didn't sit quite right. She was going to deliver bad news; I could feel it.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing.

She pressed her lips together.

"Julia, I'm so sorry," she said, throwing her arms around me.

I didn't even hug her back. I was so confused. I moved away from her.

"What did you do?"

"I can't even imagine what you're feeling. That was so shitty of him," she went on to say.

"What? Of Shawn?"

"Yeah," she said, as if it were obvious. She blinked at me, and I couldn't help but being completely and utterly lost in this conversation.

"What? What happened?"

"Wait, you don't know?" she asked, surprised.

"Know what?" I was getting exceedingly antsy now. I couldn't bear this anymore. I knew it was absolutely horrible by the look on her face. By the look that said it all – she didn't want to tell me because she didn't want to be here to see my reaction.