Café | s.m (✔️)

one

"You've got issues, and I'm not sticking around to deal with them."

"That was a fucking line from The Sims 3, get original!" I yell at the TV, popcorn flying from my hands. It was currently twelve am, and what else would I be doing but watching terrible soap operas in an empty café with a popcorn bowl by my side?

Oh yeah, anything else.

But ever since we decided to open hours until two am I was sitting down by myself through the night. And I know, what parents would let their daughter stay alone in a café next to a hotel, where who knows could randomly walk in at anytime?

Mine. Because apparently being seventeen is a responsible age and I know exactly what I'm doing, when in reality I can't even pick what I wanted from the dollar menu without twenty minutes of concentration.

There was also the fact that my parents owned this Tim Hortons, and I kind of told them I would take care of it while they slept. I expected them to decline my offer, and beg for me to go home and sleep, but all I got was a kiss on the forehead, a goodnight, and keys to lock up.

So here I was, watching some cheesy soap opera at midnight, by myself, on Valentine's Day.

As I watch the terribly scripted show, I can't help but look at the see-through door, in case someone comes into the shop. Of course, I was just being paranoid, because even if this was New York, no one comes into a small café at twelve am on February fourteenth.

Just as quick as the thought entered my mind it left, due to the person opening the door and walking in. They were wearing all black and had their hood up, not saying one word. My heart was beating rapidly, and I look down at the counter where my phone had 911 on speed dial, and a kitchen knife was on my right.

You could never be too careful.

As the person walks closer I take a deep breath, wanting to be as calm as possible, and begin my usual greeting as they pull their hood off.

"Hi! Welcome to Tim Hortons, how may I- holy shit you're Shawn Mendes." The words spill out of my mouth before I can even process them, as I stare blankly at the famous singer that my little sister was obsessed with. In shock, I drop the knife that I had been holding so tightly and it falls on my foot. Luckily, the blade is facing up, so I don't end up with blood all over the floor, but nonetheless, it still hurts.

I curse and look down at my foot to make sure no damage had happened, before looking back at the seventeen year old Canadian with a fake smile plastered on my face.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concerned, and I nod my head a little too quick.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just kind of dropped something on my foot." I tell him, not wanting to admit the fact that I was holding a knife and may or may not have used it on him if he didn't remove his hood.

After a moment of silence I open my mouth again, resuming what I was about to say. "Anyways, how may I help you?"

"Can I get a chocolate chip muffin and hot chocolate?" He asks quietly, and only then do I notice his bloodshot eyes and the bags under them. I walk over to the kitchen and grab a muffin for him, then making him his drink. When I walk back I notice he's sitting down on one of the stools by the counter, staring at his phone, which is turned off.

I walk over and hand him the drink and muffin, then stopping him when he reaches into his pocket.

"It's on the house. Anyways, you look like you had a rough day. Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, but immediately feel like taking the words back when I notice him looking uncomfortable.

"You don't have to." I instantly say when I see his expression. "But take all the time you need in here. I'll be continuing to watch this terrible tv show." I say, and as I begin to walk away he stops me, which I have to admit, caught me by surprise.

"Wait. It's not that I don't want to talk about it, it's that you may just post this all over social media and I'll get in trouble with my manager." Oh.

"Well, once again, you don't have to. But I promise I won't post anything, because unlike a lot of people in this world, I respect this amazing thing called privacy." I joke, and I see him slightly smile.

"Okay, but you have to swear this won't be anywhere on social media. Plus, it may take a while to tell you, and I really need to get this off my chest." He tells me, and I sit across from him, all ears. As I stare at him, he takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"Do you think I could get your name, before I spill all of this to you?" He asks, and I mentally face palm myself. Here he was, about to probably confess to murder, and I was a total stranger to him.

"Oh, yeah! I'm Olivia, but everyone shortens it and calls me Livie, Liv, Olive, Oli, or sometimes even Oliver." I tell him, then silencing myself for talking too much.

"Nice to meet you. Judging by your reaction when I came in, I guess you already know who I am." He says, and I smile slightly before he continues.

"Anyways, I have this friend named Laur, and we've been friends since forever. The thing is that's all I thought we were. I didn't feel anything else towards her, and I almost think of her as a sister. And then she texts me, saying she knows how I feel, and she feels the same. Apparently there were rumors I was going to ask her out today, and they got to her fast. So when she called me and said yes I was so confused. We got into a fight and she probably hates me now. It's probably all my fault, and now I've lost a friend. She's going to tell everyone at home her own version of it, and I'll loose even more. I just don't know what to do." He spits out, and rubs his face with his hands.

"Personally? I would straighten it out with anyone that calls you and asks what happens. Make it seem like a big misunderstanding, which is what it was. And if you still want to be friends with this girl, don't add the fact that she said yes, because it'll probably humiliate her. If you guys have fought before it'll all turn out okay, I promise. If she's too dumb to be your friend again, it's her fault, not yours. Don't beat yourself up over it, okay?" I say, and he finally looks away from the floor and into my eyes.

"Thanks." He says, and I give him a shy smile. I usually gave out a lot of advice, but this was the first time I was doing it to a celebrity. My sister, Nora, was going to freak.

But I couldn't tell her what happened, because I swore I wouldn't. Which means I was keeping the fact that I met my sister's role model a secret.

She would murder me if she found out.

Just then my phone begins to ring, and I see that it's my sister calling.

"One sec." I tell Shawn, and answer the call to my thirteen year old sister.

"Hey, mom and dad said you can come home early, since no one is at the Café. I'm walking over there now after I put my shoes on, see you in a bit." She tells me, and ends the call. My eyes widen when I remember that we lived in a house next to the hotel and café, so it would take Nora a minute to be here. And if she saw Shawn, there would be a major problem. I love my sister, but I know she'll post this on her Shawn Mendes updates account faster than lightning.

Staring at Shawn, I give him a scared look, and tell him to follow me.

"Unless you want to be trampled with every Shawn Mendes fan in New York, you need to hide. Quick."

yes, there are Tim Hortons in the United States. i can assure you it's not just a Canadian thing plz stop commenting and calling me headass I'm drinking their frozen hot chocolate as we speak bb ❤️

Yay new Shawn ff

:)

Okay so if you read Strings or hotel midnight (my other Shawn fanfic) thanks for being loyal and reading this one too ily.

and if ur reading this waiting for an xoxo, rachel finch update I'm omw fhdhshshah