Life Behind the Curtains: $old. (Shawn Mendes Fanfic)

Chapter 7

Shawn parks the car and unlocks the door of his apartment. He hasn't spoken a word to me since the lunch thing.

And the kiss.

"Just so you know, absolutely none of that was real." His gaze was cold and hard, his jaw clenching ever so slightly.

I played along.

"Of course I know that, rule number 5 right? I never felt anything anyway," I shrug off as if it meant nothing. He looks away and walks to his office, shutting the door on me.

Uhhh okay then. That was really weird. I'm the one who's supposed to be mad, so what the heck is he mad for?

Just another stuck up Canadian boy who thinks he's all that. Nothing new here.

Hours go by, until it's already 8 pm. I don't know if Shawn wants anything. Guess I got to face him..

I knock on the door loudly, and he opens it. "Hey, just wanted to tell you that I'm not making dinner for myself, but wanted to know if you wanted any. If so, I could make something for you."

He looks up from his laptop, "Oh no thanks, I'll be done with this soon," he informs me, and I take it as my queue to leave.

Shawn comes out of the room 15 minutes later and sits on the couch.

I twiddle my fingers nervously. "Could I..uh..have some alcohol?"

I swear I'm not usually like this, but today was crazy and I need some time to think.

"Yeah, make that two bottles of wine. They are on the bottom shelf of the fridge," he spoke.

I brought back two bottles, handing one to him.

"Cheers to married life, " I lift up my bottle. He does the same, and we clink bottles.

Shawn gulps down the contents of the bottle, "Woah woah, slow down there tiger," I say to him. He wipes his lips and shrugs, holding the now, half empty bottle.

I take a sip of wine and let the taste sink in my mouth. It burned my throat slightly, but was nowhere near as good as the vodka shots at the bar. I could tell this was very expensive wine, but Shawn didn't seem to give a fuck.

"Wait, didn't you have, like an addiction problem or something?" I ask, vaguely remembering an article I read a while ago.

He shrugs, "I'm a recovering alcoholic. One bottle can't hurt."

I stay silent. I do not want to deal with this mess. I take another sip and lick my lips, looking out at the view of the city.

"It's beautiful." This alcohol is making me talk more than I usually do. Weird.

"Yeah. You learn to not care for it when you wake up to it everyday," he spoke nonchalantly, the alcohol already kicking into his system. His words were slightly slower.

Shawn finished his bottle of wine, setting the empty bottle on the carpet. I had more than 3/4ths left.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask him. He nods, "Only if I get to ask you one." I smile, "Deal."

"Why are you so rude to me?" He looks away, mumbling, "Pass."

I let him, this time. "Why do you hate me?"

He looks back at me again, blinking rapidly. "Who the fuck said I hate you? I never said that." He answers simply.

Why didn't he answer my first question?

"Why are you so judgemental towards me when you never even met me?" He asks me intensely.

I gulp nervously.