ShawnMendes entered Wattpad.

43

[Present time.]

Mandy
"Aaliyah, I really don't know if this is a good idea," I try to protest while she's looking extremly decided before knocking at the door. "It is, trust me, it is."

Honestly, despite her expression, she sounds more as she has to conceit herself. But okay, for all I care. Maybe this is the only chance to pursuit Shawn from the truth.

We're located in the high tower of the record studio. Yes, it is the same building in front of I let Amy excit the car to continue this whole lies-and-truth-thing. In another situation I would have loved to be in here. – I mean it is just one of my greatest dreams coming true – being in the center of creativity, possibly meeting great songwriters and talking to them. And as far as I can see, this building is full of great songwriters. Island Records has many amazing songwriters under contract.

Earlier, Aaliyah just walked by the doorkeeper and grinned at the woman of the entrance. "Hey, Shaila. We're visiting Shawn. Do you know, where he is at the moment?"

"I think, he said something about meeting Andrew and then being for an hour or so in the studio. But I don't know if he's still there."

"Why shouldn't he?"

"He's got a visitor." Shalia smiled. "A girl."

Aaliyah and I looked at each other and said unisono: "A girl?"
I don't know, whose voice sounded more alarmed.

Shalia seemed kinda irritated. "Yeah. Well a young woman. Very pretty. I don't know her name, it was my collague giving her the visitor-access-card. Do you know her?"

"Well until you don't tell us a name, I'm not sure," Aaliyah said, but she and I knew absolutely for sure that it was Amy who was with Shawn right now. Aaliyah cleared her throat. "Eh, we're a bit under time-pressure. We will just walk right upstairs. This is Mandy, by the way." She introduced me while already walking towards the doors to the stairs.

"Nice to meet you, Mandy," Shalia said and I answered: "Nice meeting you, too Shalia!" Then I followed Aaliyah a bit hastily. I could see, that Aaliyah was stressed by the way she looked several times on her smartphone while walking. "C'mon Shawn, pick up the phone, pick up the phone," she murmured, while opening the door with one hand. I looked at my phone either.
My mother wrote me a message to remind me, that I should congrat my uncle to his birthday. I answered her quickly, that I would call him later, when I registered that Aaliyah stopped walking. I looked up.
I needed some seconds to realize that we were standing in front of an elevator.

You know these fancy, glassy elevators? The ones, that are constructed nearly only out of glass? Those ones, which have nice piano music in it and which have a bright mirror on every side? You know these elevators, yeah?

This elevator was not one of those.

This elevator was a small – a very small – elevator with silver shimmering walls – no mirroir – and a red carpet in it.

I hate red carpets. Not in general, but it all reminds me too much of celebrities passing by the photographs smiling their teethpaste-smile and looking way too perfect.
I don't know. Maybe you understand what I mean.
The carpet being blue or yellow or whatever – it wouldn't have changed anything about my antipathy for this elevator.

Why? Oh. Easy. I hate elevators. I really hate them. Give me a 9th floor apartment to live in – and I'll take the stairs. Give me a 12th floor lecture-room – I'll take the stairs.

"What's going on Mandy?" Aaliyah looked at me waiting for me to enter the elevator, too. She had already pushed the button upstairs. 17th floor.

Shit.