𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, shawn mendes

𝟣.𝟨

shawn mendes
17/02/18
9:59pm
new york city, usa

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I hesitate in answering, my brain slowly processing her words.

"Like what?" I choke out, tearing my eyes away from her and fixing them on the floor. I don't understand why I'm so all over the place, but I'm not complaining. These kind of nerves are the good kind, like I get before I go onstage.

"I don't know, like I'm the first woman you've ever seen?" I feel heat creep up my neck to my cheeks, knowing instantly that I'm blushing profusely. So much for playing it cool, Shawn. "I'm kidding, just come inside already."

I puff a small proportion of air out of my mouth, a signal for my brain to pull itself together. My thought process is making it seem like such a hard task, when all I have to do is walk through the door. "You don't have to beg, I'm in." I manage to say, turning to close the door and compose myself. I pivot back around on my heel, looking her in the eyes.

"I don't beg, Mendes." She bites her lip gently, almost sending me to the floor. Girls don't get me feeling like this, usually. But somehow, she was managing it. "I don't need to." I mean, she's not wrong. She could ask me to do anything for her right now and I wouldn't hesitate.

"And why's that?" I step closer, keeping a straight face despite all the feelings I'm going through.

"Because you're right where I want you." I look beyond her, into her apartment. It manages to reflect her personality perfectly: mostly grey with blue accents and floor-to-ceiling windows, accommodating an incredible view of the city. Out of the corner of my eye I spot a guitar, leaning against the window at the far end of the room.

"You play?" I walk over, eager to find some common ground between us.

"Eh, I used to. I just keep it around because it reminds me of my dad-" She trails off yet again, following me over there and picking it up. It's covered in stickers, all the text in Spanish. "What about you? Do you play?" She asks, sitting on a barstool and balancing the guitar on her legs. Her stance is all wrong if she's about to play, but I'm willing to let her off, considering how beautiful she looks.

I laugh, thinking she's joking. She doesn't laugh along, her face morphing into confusion. "Of course I play. You really know nothing about me, huh?"

"Says the one who asked if I was Elizabeth when we first met." I laugh, taking a seat next to her. "I knew you sang, I didn't know that you played any instruments."

"Yeah, I play piano and guitar." There's a beautiful grand piano in the hallway, I note, although it looks relatively unplayed. Her cat lies on the stool, purring to itself.

"My mom wanted me to learn piano, but my dad played guitar. Being the typical daddy's girl I was, I learnt guitar to spite my mom." She smiles at the memory, strumming something lightly. "I can barely remember anything now. I could probably still play sweet child of mine if I tried."

"Whatever you're playing now sounds ok." It's a simple riff, catchy enough to inspire me. "In fact, it sounds pretty fucking cool."

"I'm gonna take that as a huge compliment, coming from you." She laughs lightly, getting the confidence to play a little louder.

"Would you mind if I maybe recorded you?" I ask nervously. "I'm in the middle of trying to write a new album, emphasis on trying, but I haven't been able to get much inspiration until now."

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead." I pull my phone from my back pocket, trying to put some lyrics to the riff. They don't come instantly, but I'm hoping with some help from Julia and Scott, I could actually make it into a hit, as Andrew would say.