Bad Things

28. Belong

Grabbing the offending object from his desk, Shawn peeked back at Camila's sleeping form. Her shoulders were still moving in the same even rhythm. Shawn turned toward the door and stole out of the room into the hall. The lights were dim, and emptiness echoed all around him. The weight of how truly alone he was in this big house settled uncomfortably over him.

Shawn shook the feeling off and slid his thumb across the lock bar, lifting the phone to his ear.

"What?" he said irritably.

"Uh ... I'm sorry, is this ... is this Shawn Mendes?"

Shawn frowned at the unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line. "Who the hell wants to know?"

"This is Harold? Harold McKinley. Head Coach of the Ohio State University."

"Shit," Shawn said, almost dropping his phone. "I mean ... shit."

Harold's chuckle echoed through the phone. "No need to apologize, son. I realize I caught you off guard."

"No, I—I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to be such an asshole, I—" Shawn paused, realizing he'd cussed again. "Shiiiiiit." He gripped his hair and pulled hard to ground himself.

Harold laughed harder. "How about we start over?"

"Yes, please."

"Shawn," Harold cleared his throat, "this is Harold McKinley from the Ohio State University. How are you this evening?"

Shawn grinned to himself and lowered his hand from his hair. "Fine, sir. And you?"

"Just fine. Listen, I don't want to keep you, as I'm sure you have better things to do this weekend than entertain a phone call from me, but I wanted to touch base with you and extend an invitation to our meet and greet next weekend. It's for our new incoming players, to give them a chance to meet the remaining team and tour the stadium, locker room, things like that."

"Oh," Shawn said. "But ... I haven't signed. I'm ... I just ..." He blew out a breath and stared up at the ceiling. "I still don't know what's going to happen ... I don't know what I'm doing next year yet, so I didn't want to make a commitment."

"No, it's okay. I understand that, son. There's no pressure. But ... you do still want to play ball, don't you, Shawn?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

And he did. He still loved the game, loved the feeling of power he gained when he threw a perfect spiral, loved the rush in his veins when the crowd chanted his name. It may have been completely egotistical and vain, but it was what it was.

"Then you should come. Regardless of what happens, you should at least come see what we have to offer. You could treat it as a look-see rather than an orientation."