Desire | Shawn Mendes

NINE

Song of the Chapter: Mess Is Mine - Vance Joy
"This Mess was yours / now your Mess is mine."

- x -

With my tape recorder secretly on and hidden in my lap, I stare at Shawn from a cross the small booth we sat in. The rain outside managed to turn into a little storm that resulted in the city growing even windier. So to seek shelter and not wanting to be in a cab all morning, we came into this small and quaint cafe by an abandoned dance studio.

"This reminds me of Canada." I say to him as I look out the window. The purple neon sign flickers before staying lit. I turn my head back to Shawn and see him resting his head against his fist as he has a small smile tugging at his lips.

"It wasn't raining when we went." He replies.

"At night it did. I couldn't sleep and I was looking around your room and at all your trophies and listening to the rain."

"What time was that?"
"Like, four in the morning. But I fell asleep looking at you."

"My mom asks about you from time to time." Shawn tells me. His expression is blank, but the emotion hides in his eyes.

"What does she ask?" I say.
"She asks if I've found you yet." He replies. "She misses you a lot. Her and my dad. They know how the breakup went down."

"Did your mom believe you deserved that slap, too?" I ask.
Shawn nods his head and I laugh. "In her words," he clears his throat and does an impression of her accent, "Shawn, if you ever find her, you tell her I said I would've done the same thing."

I let out a laugh and place my hand over my mouth to conceal the big and goofy smile I have. "Tell your mother I miss her so much. And that I hope she's doing well."

"Have you dated anyone after me?"

"Nope. There were some guys in college, maybe three, who had an interest in me. But I never thought of them that way." I say with a simple shrug. Now that we're on the topic of dating, I can ask him about his love life for the magazine.

"How about you? Since the rise of your career, have you ever been on or off the market? You're a pretty private person." I say.

"Uhh." Shawn says. He lets out a nervous chuckle and gently taps his knuckles against the table. "I am private, I'll give you that."

"So who is she?"

"No one." He says. "We're simply monogamous. I've never dated anyone in the four years since my rise of my career. It's hectic. But even then it's not because these fights are months apart. There's training within those months and even then with that I wouldn't have time to give love to anyone. I have time for quickies and casual one night stands. But romance? No, sorry."

"Do you think you'll ever find someone?" I ask.

"I hope to God I do." Shawn chuckles. "You'd have to be really special to tie me down. Actually, not tie me down, I don't like the way I stated that. It makes me seem like some wild animal that wants to run away from every woman. Let me put it this way: I want someone who isn't scared to see me get hurt. I want someone who won't start crying out of fear at the side of the ring if there was a time for me to be in danger in the ring. I want someone who will give me private and personal pep talks before a fight. I want someone who isn't scared of me. I want someone who is able to help carry a badly bruised and injured six-foot, four guy up stairs and nurse him back to strength. I want that. And whatever woman can do that, then she has me."

"Does your monogamous girl not do that?" I ask. There's some spite in me knowing he has slightly shaded me. Is this asshole not forgetting I wanted to be there for his fight only for him to force me to stay at the Hamptons worried shitless? "I want..." my ass! Is he also forgetting I flew to him at five in the morning and nursed him back to his strength?!