Shawn Mendes Imagines

Lemonade

I didn't know my day could get worse.

All these bad things were piling slowly, like a huge tsunami. Little thing after little thing. I was like a ticking bomb. Every second getting closer to exploding.

My hair was tangled. I had a brush but it was back in my car. I felt myself start to tear up.

I looked like I was trampled by a bull. I felt like I was. My legs were sore.

I wanted to sleep. That is all I wanted to do even if I couldn't. Even if I tried.

I started crying in front of a mirror in a gas station bathroom.

It was not like anyone could stop me. The gas station I was at was in the middle of nowhere.

I was in the middle of nowhere. I was trying to go the beach. Just to get away. But now I was having a break down in this room that smelled like Lysol and pizza. I glanced at the old clock on the wall. It was getting to be late. And I had homework and a shower to take at least when I get home.

I wiped my eyes with the scratchy paper towel and walked out of the door.

When I walked out of the door though, I was suddenly soaking wet.

I gasped and jumped back.

"What the fu-"

The person beat me to the punch with last word.

I looked up.

There was a guy standing there with a styrofoam cup full of this yellow liquid.

He spilled lemonade all over me.

He cut me off again when I was about to cuss him out.

"I am so sorry. I didn't know someone was in there. The guy told me no one was even in the station."

Other than me.

Thanks gas station guy.

I will remember to write you a great thank you letter for ruining my already slightly blood stained shirt.

"It is okay," I muttered looking at him. He cocked his head to the side.

"Are you okay?"

"Other than the fact that I am officially covered in a Beyonce reference I am pretty good," I sneered. He chuckled.

"I have some clothes in my car. My sister is younger than you but I think they can at least last you until you get home," He offered.

Every horror story is telling you no Y/N don't do it.

"I am fine. I need to start walking towards my car," I excused.

"Oh yeah you car isn't in the station area. Where is it?" He asked.

"A walk away. I am here to get gas."

"I can drive you-" He drew out the 'you', realizing he didn't know my name.

"Y/N"

"I can drive you Y/N. By the way, I am Shawn,"He smiled.

"Hi. It is okay. I can go myself," I said.

"I insist. Plus I do owe you."

...

I was in a sweatshirt and yoga pants (which were pretty much leggings when I put them on). Shawn was putting gas in his car as I sat on the hood waiting.

We small talked about where we went to school (he went to a school a town over from me), what we did and stuff along those lines. The reason I never have seen him before is because he moved to our area this year.

"So your car broke down. Where were you going?" He asked.

"The coast," I replied.

"Why?"

"To get away."

"I assume you had a bad day."

"Yeah."

"How?"

I glanced up at him. He was staring at me, most likely at the bloodshot eyes I had. I bit my lip. Then slipped off the hood of the car.

"My best friend died on this day last year."

I killed that conversation quick.

We both got in his car. And started driving.

About five minutes of silence later, he spoke.

"How did they die?" I gulped at his question.

"She had leukemia. She was doing fine. In school. In sports. In love with her boyfriend. Us three were all this little group. Then one day she just fell apart," My breath hitched. "After she died, he moved. So I was left alone. I haven't even seen him since. I lost them both."

"Did he tell you?"

"Yeah. Kind of. It is confusing. He just left so quickly. Like she did."

He probably didn't know what to say. If I was him, I wouldn't either. 

"My sister had a friend who had cancer," He said. 

"Had," I repeated.

"She didn't die. Though her parents couldn't afford all the bills and expenses of her anymore, so they gave her up. She lives in France I think now. My sister hasn't heard from her in years. Bt we think she must be happy wherever she is. Even if it might not be Earth anymore."

I smiled at him. Simply because he was not like anyone else. Most people don't lend you clothes and drive you miles in the opposite direction just because they spilled lemonade on you. 

Then it came into mind, that maybe lemonade wasn't the reason. Maybe he wanted a friend. 

"Is it that your car?" He pointed to the dead car on the side of the road. I nodded. 

"Yeah. Just stop here."

He pulled up to my junk car and grabbed my gas can for me. I grabbed my wet clothes and got out. 

"Thank you," I whispered. 

"No problem," He smiled. 

"Bye Shawn," I said briefly waving as I put my stuff in the car and took the gas can. 

"Wait," I looked up. He grinned. "Can I have your number?"

A/N

I think my titles throw people off. When you see lemonade that is not probably what you were thinking. But oh well. I updated go me. Make sure to check out my other stories at my profile follow and vote :) 

(P.S Thank you all so much for 200k reads on this book. I am so blessed and mind blown and I hope I really make all of you proud and want to read more and more. I put so much work into this so to have such a great feedback to my work is just crazy!)