Graffiti; s.m. c.c.

seven

{Shawn}

We walked through the night until we reached a dead end alleyway. It was slightly lit by a lamp across the street. Camila set down the plastic bag, squatting down she rummaged through it. She pulled out the two masks I had bought.

Camila tossed me one, "Lets do this."

She grinned widely before her face was covered by the mask. I slid mine over my cold face instantly warming it.

"What's the plan?"

Camila's laugh was muffled by the mask, "I don't really have one."

She shook a can of black spray paint and created an outline, it was quickly filled in with red. With each stroke the object became more apparent.

"Why do you drawn lips so often?"

Camila continued shading, "They can mean so many different things. To you it might resemble the words of a loved one, to another person the same painting may just be graffiti."

"The beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"Cliché but yeah," Camila uncapped the black spray paint and started writing next to her finished artwork.

"What does this piece mean to you," I asked out of sheer curiosity.

She stood back admiring her painting, "Just a song that's been stuck in my head."

"Your lips they taste like June," I read the writing aloud. "Jon Bellion?"

"You listen to Jon Bellion?"

I smiled nodding my head, "He's a fucking genius." Sirens sounded in the distance.

Camila bent down, rapidly placing the caps back on the cans. She threw them back into the bag.

"What's happening." The sirens grew closer.

"I uh we gotta go-" Camila grabbed my hand and pivoted toward the road.

Before we could make a run for it blue and red lights blinded us.

"Drop what is in your hands then put your hands above your head," a masculine voice spoke.

A loud clank signaled that the bag of spray cans had hit the ground. I placed both my hands above my head, exhaling furiously. A man stepped out of the car before slamming the door.

"Camila what the hell are you doing?"

{Camila}

A fake smile smoothed over my frown before I turned toward the man addressing me.

"Hey dad," I cupped my hands together in front of me attempting to look innocent. My toes tapped in my shoes as my heart rate skyrocketed.

He shook his head pointing at the paint that was still visibly wet. "Really Camila? Graffiti?"

My eyes stayed glued to the palms of my hands as they began to sweat. Cool air whipped through the ally, brushing the hair out of my face as a chill ran down my spine.

"You understand this is illegal right?"

"Nope. I had no idea," I exhaled a warm breath that instantly turned into a cloud of vapor due to the cold temperatures.

A man substantially smaller than my father stepped out of the squad car. Walking toward Shawn he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his oversized jacket.

"Sarcasm isn't going to get you out of this one," my dad huffed as the cold metal I was familiar to clanked around my wrists.

I was shuffled to the back seat, Shawn directly behind me.

"Did I forget to mention that my father was the sherif?"

Shawn mumbled cuss words as we watched the two officers outside of the car speak to each other.

I looked into Shawn's glossy eyes as he began to speak in coherent sentences, "What am I supposed to tell them when they ask for my name?"

"Well probably your name."

A smile arose on on his face, revealing small dimples on his rosy cheeks.
"Thanks smartass. My mom is going to fucking kill me. Oh, and I might as well kiss my career goodbye-"

My father and his squad partner re-entered the car causing Shawn to silence immediately.

The ride back to the precinct was short but filed with awkward silence. We were hauled into the building, escaping the bitter cold only to thrown into a holding cell. Shawn and I sat side by side. My finger tips drummed back and forth as he played what looked like piano chords on his knee.

"What is your name son,"the short man behind a computer questioned.

Shawn exhaled but did not open his mouth. I placed my hand on his upper thigh causing him to stop playing the imaginary chords.

My father leaned against the cell bars with a grin plastered across his face, "So who is this guy Mila? Some rat off the street that you convinced to buy you spray paint?" He paused waiting for an emotion to be evoked. It was a simple interrogation tactic. Little did he understand that I knew all his tricks, my father interrogating me was nothing new.

"And you," He pointed at Shawn. "Do you understand that providing spray paint to minor is illegal?"

He gulped then opened his mouth I quickly squeezed his leg causing him to continue to be sit in silence.

My dad tapped his hands on the bars, "But maybe if you tell us your name I could knock down some of those hefty fines."

"Shawn Mendes."

"Excuse me," my dad chuckled.

"Shawn mendes," he spoke again only slightly slower.

"Isn't that the CD your mother and I bought you last year?"

The man behind the desk typed quickly, "That's him Sir. Super star extraordinaire, Shawn Mendes."

Shawn gave the man on the computer his team's contact information.

"It's too late to call your mother tonight Mr. Mendes. You two better get comfortable, it's going to be a long night."

All but a single light that flickered near the front entrance turned off. I leaned on Shawn nuzzling my head between his shoulder and neck. He placed his hand on top of mine, squeezing lightly.

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Hey, how are you guys? I know I haven't posted in a while, sorry. But it is almost winter break so hopefully I will be posting more often. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. What book should I update next? Thank you - R.L.T.