Somehow, on the Friday afternoon before the charity event, Russo , Sophia, Alice, and Aaron all ended up crowded in our little apartment after work. Tyler had decided he didn't want to be bored while I was out at my "glamorous charity event", so I had to get ready with my five closest friends around me. Alice and Sophia were fawning over me, fixing little pieces of my hair and swiping blush across my cheeks as if I were a doll, while I whined and attempted to smack their hands away. After a solid 45 minutes of the torture, they deemed I was ready to go out on the arm of Shawn Mendes .
"Look, with your hair pinned up like that, you kind of look like a mature adult who knows what she's doing with her life," Alice giggled, earning a playful smack from Sophia.
"Please, Norah is totally mature," Sophia taunted. "I mean, look at her outfit right now."
They burst into fits of giggles as I glanced down at my outfit, which consisted of flannel pajama pants covered in sheep and an oversize New York Yankees t-shirt. "I'm done with you two."
"You love us."
"Yes," I sighed, "but not enough to keep letting you poke me in the eyes with the mascara wand. Out. Go drink some wine of something."
Sophie scowled at me. "I'm not even legal, remember?"
"Don't care. Pour it in a sippy cup, young one."
She rolled her eyes playfully and followed Alice out of the bathroom, finally leaving me to get ready in a little bit of peace. I slipped on the purple dress that Tyler had picked out for me earlier, buckled up my black heels, and stepped into the living room. There was a low whistle from someone. "Did you actually brush your hair?"
"Maybe she does have her life together."
"I'd turn straight for you."
"I kind of liked the sheep pajama pants." I scowled at my so-called friends.
"Wow, thank you everyone for your uplifting comments and continuing support."
"We try," Tyler said with a shrug. "But for real, you look awesome. What is this charity event even for?"
Scoffing, I plopped down on the edge of the couch, half in Louis' lap and not caring at all. "Like I know. He just yelled at me that we were going, so now I have to go if I want him to come clubbing tomorrow. We compromised."
Everyone rolled their eyes at the terms of my messed up relationship before turning their attention to Aaron's story about Victoria, who had apparently gotten a fact wrong today in the press meeting and still wouldn't admit it. We were all making fun of her and pretending that we were not absolutely terrified of our boss when Shawn stepped into the living room, hands in pockets and hair brushed back. He had on blue jeans and a orange green jacket, underneath which he wore a ' HEAVEN' white shirt . My mouth was dry as he stared at me, parted his lips slightly, and stated, "Norah."
"Did you let yourself in?"
"Obviously," He chuckled. "Are you ready to go?"
After grabbing my purse and giving each of my friends a peck on the cheek goodbye (much to Shawn's annoyance), I took his hand and we left my apartment and went down to the waiting SUV which Andrew was driving. The car ride was strangely silent; Shawn's legs we're bouncing up and down and he kept playing with my fingers, almost as if he were nervous. I sat awkwardly beside him and debated asking if he was okay the entire time, but just when I decided I would, we pulled up at the event. There were reporters all along the fence, snapping pictures as businessmen and New York socialites walked past them, occasionally deciding to stop and answer questions as they posed for pictures. Andrew slipped out and came to open our door, causing my grip on Shawn's hand to tighten exponentially.
"What is this?" I hissed. "A fucking red carpet? I thought this was a charity event?"
Shawn barely glanced at me. "It's a charity event. Magazines need pictures."
"I'm really too awkward for this."
"Yes," He chuckled as he helped me out of the car, "but that is exactly why you are not required to answer any questions, Norah." As soon as the magazine photographers and news stations spotted Shawn , they turned towards him and began flashing pictures and begging for his attention. He kept his lips in a straight line and his hand wrapped around mine as he walked by them. I gripped his hand desperately, and tried to hide the blush that was definitely creeping over my cheeks at the thought of all the pictures that would be on the internet soon. Before we reached the entrance of the hotel that was the venue, Shawn stopped to talk to a tiny man with a bird-like nose. The man fumbled for his recorder under Shawn gaze.
"Oh, Mr. Mendes , uhm, Evan from The Wall Street Journal. I just have a few questions for you."
"And I obviously am going to answer them," Shawn said with a scowl.
"Right, yes of course," He stuttered. "How do you feel about being called the next Mark Cuban ?"
Shawn groaned and pulled me closer to his side. "Ridiculous. I would never have a television show. Next."
"Is it true you plan on expanding to Toronto , then hopefully across Canada ?"
"No comment."
With one last hard glare, Shawn tugged me down a little bit further to a women with bright green eyes , wearing a dark green Chanel dress and holding out a recorder for him to speak into. Her eyes widened in shock when she realised that he was actually stopping in front of her.
"Karen for City Socialite Magazine," She said excitedly.
"And?"
I had to press my cheek against his shoulder to hide the smile that was threatening to pull across my face at the flustered women. As much as I felt bad for her, because I knew exactly what it was like under Shawn's glare, it was almost comical to watch the effect he had on every single person. It was also relieving to realize that I wasn't the only one.
"Uhm, who are you wearing?" She finally managed. "Armani." Without even thinking, I let out a playful scoff and nudged Shawn .
"That is not Armani, it's Yves Saint Laurent."
It was then that the reporter seemed to notice the brunette whose hand was intertwined with Shawn's . Her botoxed lips parted in shock as she cocked her head to the side and did a much to obvious, judgemental once over, taking in every last frazzled inch of me.
"You're right," She grinned. "And you must be Shawn's girlfriend?"
Before I could begin to spit out my very practiced denials, the CEO let out a low growl and tugged me away from the inquisitive women, and into the lavish lobby of the hotel. There were signs everywhere for Comic Relief, a charity organisation. Following the signs, we walked to the exquisitely decorated banquet hall where the dinner and auction was taking place. Every single person we passed first glanced to our intertwined hands before dropping their gaze to the ground to avoid Shawn's .
"Come," He mumbled, pulling me through the crowded room to a table front and center, where we sat down next to important looking people in nice suits. Everyone at the table stood to greet him, offering him a hand before smiling at me and introducing themselves. Smiling, I shook hands with all the people around the table, each of whom had a fancy title to go along with their name as if to show how much better they were than me. I sat down rather ungracefully in the chair next to Shawn , only relaxing slightly when his hand came to rest right above my knee.
"Have they shut the doors yet, Jake ?" He asked smoothly. Man older man across the table shook his head.
"Soon, Mr. Mendes ." Everyone then began talking about business and investments and other big fancy terms that I didn't understand. So I chose to scoot closer to Shawn and nod whenever he did, as if I knew exactly what was going on in the conversation. Considering all my attention was on mimicking Shawn , it took the woman next to me three tries to get me attention, before Shawn finally frowned at me and gave me a slight nudge in her direction, making me turn to face the blonde with red cheeks.
"Oh, sorry. I was just listening to, uh, the conversation. Yeah. Hi." She let out a soft laugh.
"It's fine. I have no idea what they're talking about either."
"Shit, you could tell?" I hissed.
"Only because that's the exact same thing I do," She smiled, pointing to the man beside her.
"He always brings me to these events and I have no idea what's going on. 12 years on and you'd think he'd realise I'm a little out of my element."
My lips drew into the first comfortable smile since the time I'd stepped into the building. "Thank god I'm not the only one."
"We can just pretend we're talking about important stuff over here. How long have you and Mr. Shawn been together?"
"Erhm, we're not. We're...friends," I stammered.
"Friends."
The women burst out into laughter as if I had just told her an absolutely hilarious joke. I watched her with an awkward smile until she recovered, regarding me with an unbelieving look on her face, and said, "Oh, sweetie. This is the first event I've ever seen him bring a women to. He's obviously into you."
"That's not true," I whispered back. "He brought Cara to the Vogue Fall Fashion Show."
"Mr. Mendes at a fashion show? Seems more like the model brought him," She shrugged, earning a roll of eyes from me before she held up her hands. "Just saying."
After that, I dropped the conversation for fear that any moment Shawn would listen in and hear me discussing our relationship with a woman, whom I knew as Julia, that I had just met. Her husband apparently had been working for Shawn since the very beginning.
"Have I told you that I like your dress?" Shawn whispered suddenly, bringing his mouth to brush against my ear. "I would absolutely love to rip it off you."
I blushed furiously and glanced around to make sure no one had heard. "We're in public, Shawn ."
"For only a few more hours, Norah."
By this point, his lips were dangerously close to the point just below my earlobe that he always seemed to kiss and always sent chills down my spine. He smirked before pulling away and placing his oversized hands a few inches above my knee, not high enough to make me squirm, but high enough to tell me exactly what game he was playing. He kept a lazy smirk on his lips as he continued to chat with his business partners, the entire time bringing his hand higher and higher on my legs. I glared at his profile with a flushing face and pursed lips, screaming internally for him to stop.
"Something wrong?" Shawn murmured, slipping his hand just under the hem of my silk dress. "Your face is rather flushed babe."
I gritted my teeth and pushed his hand back down to my knee. "Stop it right now."
His fingers toyed with the hem once again. "Do not be so demanding, Norah. Plus, you really don't want me to stop me."
"Yes," I huffed, pushing his hand away once again, "I do."
He made a small clicking sound with his tongue. "The goosebumps have always been a dead giveaway."
Cursing under my breath, I slapped his hand away (not that I really wanted to, but I didn't think I could control myself much longer), and then tried to hide my smile when he instead intertwined our fingers and pulled my hand into his lap. He traced patterns on my palm while he spoke to people. His posture was straight, his head was held high, and he completely dominated the entire table. Everyone seemed to bask in the glow that was radiating off of him, smiling when he spoke directly to them and hanging on to every single word he spoke to anyone else. My fond stare didn't go unnoticed; Julia had to nudge me multiple times and Shawn kept shooting me small grins that scent my heart into overdrive. Soon enough, a small bearded man who looked like he belonged in a library approached the stage and cleared his throat a few times into the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen," He greeted. "Before he comes on stage, I would like to introduce the man who made this years charity event possible, Mr. Shawn Mendes , CEO of Mendes Enterprises and the funder of this entire event. This year and the previous, Shawn headed the campaign for the charity. He had poured constant time and effort into this, and we would not be successful without him. Shawn Mendes, everyone."
There was an applause throughout the room, and Shawn pulled his hand from mine and rose from the chair, while I stared after him in shock. He looked calm and practiced as he approached the microphone, adjusted it to his height, and placed his hands on the podium.
"Thank you, Mark. Comic Relief had always been a very important charity to me, so it was an honour to be appointed as the chairman for this years efforts. With multiple events, benefactors, and donations, we have raised well over three million dollars. Thank you to everyone for your help."
I was pretty sure that my mouth was still hanging open as he slid back into his seat beside me. After a minute of staring as adjusted his collar and thanked those who were congratulating him on his efforts, I wrapped my hand around his arm and pulled him to me. "What the hell was that?" The corners of his mouth curled up.
"Was my speech really that awful?"
"You know what I'm talking about," I whispered as loudly as I dared. "You drag me to a damn charity event and don't even tell me that it's your event?"
"It was not important. What do you think I do with all of my money? Spend it on myself? Now drop it," He warned.
My mind flashed through just what exactly I thought he spent his money on; the luxurious penthouse, the flashy cars, the personalised suits, and so much more, it was seemingly impossible that he had that much to spend as a 24 year old. It was even more impossible that he still had money left over to donate. Dinner was served, and I picked at my green beans and chicken without an appetite until Shawn scowled at me. He didn't stop glaring until I had finished half of my chicken, at which point he brushed his lips ever so slightly against my forehead.
"Thank you," He mumbled into my hair. "And thank you for attending this with me tonight."
I grinned sheepishly up at him. "You didn't give me much of a choice, yeah?"
"Do not remind me about the deal."
"Why not?" I giggled, reaching up and tucking a stray curl back into place. "You're going to have so much fun dancing with all of us."
He rolled his eyes playfully and turned a little bit in his seat, making my breath catch in my throat as he once again put his arm around my shoulders, and then tucked his free hand over mine. The sudden proximity of the beautiful man, whose coconut-scented hair I could now smell, made me forget all else.
"I'll have fun dancing with you," He corrected. And as usual, I giggled like a ten year old school girl with a hopeless crush on the boy who threw markers at her. Except I was 22, madly in love, and his instead brought me to charity events.
"So you'll actually dance this time?" I asked breathlessly. Shawn's eyebrows furrowed as he thought, bringing out my favourite little crease in between them that I somehow found adorable.
"With you, I will." I didn't really know what to say, so I ducked my head down to avoid his overly intense gaze and said,
"Oh."
When he finally turned back from the table, I was able to breathe properly once again, despite my fluttering heart. That was, until I looked up and saw every single person staring at us with unsure expressions. Shawn narrowed his eyes at them in warning, and within seconds they were all looking away and pretending they had never even seen their boss pressing a kiss into the hair of the awkward girl beside him.
"We are leaving," Shawn suddenly announced. Everyone's eyes flickered back up to him hesitantly. "This has been a lovely evening, ladies and gentlemen. Joseph, I will see you Monday. Kyle, always a pleasure."
"Of course, Mr. Mendes ." One of the addressed men answered. "And nice to meet you, Norah."
"You too," I squeaked, and then we were hurrying away from the awkward table with the CEO's hand clenching a little too harshly onto mine. On our way through the banquet hall, we were stopped by multiple people who thanked Shawn over and over. He gave them tight lipped smiles and tried to hide his annoyance as much as possible, then made an easy excuse and moved on through the crowd of people until we reached the door. The New York air bit into our cheeks as soon as he shoved it open. I nuzzled closer to his side, relishing in his warmth and musky cologne as we walked to the car that had apparently been waiting for us the entire time. With a cold expression on his face, Shawn held open the car door and offered me a hand to climb into the backseat.
"Why'd we leave?" I mumbled, rubbing my hands together to try and get them warm once again. "It wasn't over yet."
Shawn captured my smaller hands in his and placed them on his lap, effectively warming them up. But he didn't answer my question, only stared straight forward and directed Andrew to head back to my apartment. I let out a huff of annoyance. "What, are you mad at me or something? Why'd we leave?"
"Don't."
"Seriously?"
"Yes, seriously," He snapped. "I wanted to leave and we did." Wrenching my hands for his, I scooted away from him in the back seat and rested my head against the cool window. The glass fogged over as my breath hit it, creating little drawing boards for me to doodle on while ignoring Shawn . My fingers were tracing little stars onto the window panel when he leaned over me, his chest pressed to my back and his curls to my cheek.
I froze, watching as the tip of his nose stopped a centimetre away from the glass, and a light sigh escaped through his parted lips, effectively preparing the window for drawing. Reaching around me, he rested his arm on my shoulder to write, with his eyebrows furrowed and plump lower lip tugged into his mouth. For some reason, my attention was drawn to the array of chunky rings on his fingers and not the letters being written.
"Norah?" Shawn rasped as he pulled away, his deep voice tainted with uncertainty before he pinched his lip to hide the frown that was forming. "I should not have brought you to the event. It was for business, and it was unprofessional. We are not in a relationship."
I stared at him for a second to process, then turned back towards the window. The city rushed past us, all yellow cabs and tall buildings, and my lower lip quivered as I fought back the tears gathering on my lash line from his expected, but still harsh, words. It was then I noticed what Shawn had written in fog on the window: S + N. So, I handled my conflicting emotions in the best way possible, which involved slamming the car door as hard as I could when I got out, then stomping up the stairs to my apartment, and trying to ignore the fact that he didn't even attempt a goodbye.
But trying to ignore that was just as impossible as trying to ignore the way his fingers always seemed to rest on a part of me, or the way he sighed my name fondly when I was annoying him, or the way he had written S + N on the window. For every single thing that I absolutely loved about Shawn Mendes, there was another thing that I absolutely hated.