𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 → 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬 (𝐢)

thirty-nine [s]

monday,
april 3rd, 2018

SHAWN MENDES

"I swear those two are like Lennie and George."

I laugh at Trinity's comparison as she references these two girls in our college year who may as well be joined at the hip. They're constantly together, and they're both really irritating and squeaky.

I raise my left hand to check my watch, seeing that it's nearly half six. I remember how I've made plans to meet with Vanessa today and take one last sip of my coffee before rising from the couch. Trinity groans tiredly as my right arm slips from around her shoulders.

"Babe, I have to go out for a while," I tell her, shoving my mug in the dishwasher.

"Okay," she hums, flicking through the channels, "where're you headed?"

Her question is innocent, she isn't obsessive, but I decide against telling her the full truth.

"Just out," I shrug nonchalantly. T overlooks me skeptically before nodding it off. I don't think she'd take it too well if I were to explain to her that I'm meeting up with the girl who broke my heart into billions of tiny pieces two and a half years ago... even though it was practically all my fault.

I leave Trinity alone in the main room to dress myself in more appropriate clothing than a t-shirt and joggers, though I know Vanessa has already seen me at my laziest, at my worst. I replace my grey pants with black skinnies and toss a hoodie over my head. I lace up my converse and kiss Trinity goodbye before taking the elevator to the basement.

I climb into my beautiful jeep and rev the engine. Mac Ayres' album begins to play and I remember that I had left that CD in the player not too long ago. I hum to Calvin's Joint as I start the thirty minute drive.

Thirty minutes is really forty, due to mad traffic and a crash on the highway, but I eventually make it and find myself ascending her front porch steps to knock on the door. She still lives with her parents, so I remember this house all too well.

My right foot mindlessly taps against the wood below me before the front door swings open with a slight creak. My head snaps up and Vanessa stands there, her black bouncy curls falling to her upper chest, her long tanned legs on show. She's dressed in a tight long sleeve and a pair of cotton shorts, and she looks wonderful.

"Vanessa," I breathe out after a minute of staring at one another.

"Shawn." She steps aside and I enter the house, the warm, sweet aroma engulfing me, "I didn't think you'd show."

"Traffic," I simply say, "your parents in?"

"Out," she states.

We walk close together into the kitchen. Vanessa leans up against the black marble countertop and I hop up on a black leather bar stool beside her. She stares into my eyes with a puzzled glare for a few moments and I feel myself slipping further into her gaze.

"Shawn, why're you here?" she asks in a whisper.

"You said to meet here," I say, breaking and avoiding eye contact.

"Shawn," she says sternly, her arms crossing over her chest, "you know what I mean. Why're you here?"

"I just needed to speak to you."

"About what?" Vanessa whispers, slight frustration in her voice due to confusion. She strolls towards the fridge and grabs a plastic carton of strawberries before retrieving a knife from a nearby drawer.

"Things," I finally say, "like— love."

Vanessa halts her movements and swivels her capturing eyes upwards to land on my face, "Love? Why?"

"Somebody's in love with me," I tell her.

Vanessa scoffs a light-hearted chuckle, "No wonder."

"Huh?"
"You're loveable, Shawn. You could have any girl love you in a heartbeat."

I frown, "That's not true."
"It worked for me."

Her response is almost immediate and I'm slightly taken aback. She sighs as she begins chopping the red fruit, shaking her head and saying, "talk".

"I live with this Irish girl, Trinity. She's great, we both attend UCLA and we're in a relationship now," I begin, "I think she used to despise me. I really used to piss her off, tease her. But she told me last week that she loves me... and I haven't said it back."

The second I finish my sentence, Vanessa's hand jerks and she hisses as I spy a spot of blood falling from her fingertip. My eyes widen and I leap off of my stool, grabbing her wrist as she curses twice.

"What the fuck?" I whisper. I gently tug her over to the sink and twist the cold tap to the right, placing her forefinger under the water stream.

"Ow," she whimpers and my heart bleeds just like her cut finger. I frown in sorrow and shush her, attempting to comfort her. After at least half a minute, I turn off the tap and wrap her finger in some kitchen towel.

"How?" I ask, utterly confused as to how she just let the knife slip like that.

Vanessa's head tilts up and her plump lips twitch and her eyebrows furrow. Before I know it, her large lips are on mine and without thinking, I kiss her back straight away, my hands grabbing at her waist anxiously. It's not until a minute is up and her uninjured hand starts to thread through my curls that I realise this is incredibly wrong and unfair to Trinity.

"Wait," I pant.

"Shawn, I-I'm sorry!" she states quickly, her cheekbones flaring crimson. Her hands run over her flushed cheeks in surprise. "Fuck. I didn't mean for that to happen. You have a girlfriend. I'm over you. It— look, it never happened."

I nod and breathe in and out cautiously, "Never happened."

For an hour or two we talk and Vanessa actually provides me with some really useful advice. She tells me that I can't 'not know' when I'm in love with somebody. When I fall in love, it'll hit me like a brick wall. It'll happen so quickly I'll barely notice it, but I definitely will. It'll be scary, fast and exciting, but I will know when I'm in love for sure.

I leave her house with a small, appreciative grin and climb into my jeep. My mind races with guilty thoughts as I speed down the highway. How could I have let that happen? That was so fucked up. How am I going to tell Trinity? Fuck sake.

Maybe I won't tell her. I don't have to. . . right?