Insomnia // Shawn Mendes

// part viii

{ This one is all over the place and a bit cheesy as well and Shawn's first single wasn't actually out when I wrote this, so I made up the details. Favourite, comment and enjoy. }

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shawn // part viii

“Take a left after the next set of traffic lights,” I inform Jasmine. She nods in affirmation and eases the car to a stop at the red light. My gaze lingers on her unintentionally, watching the way she runs a hand through her voluminous locks tentatively, investigates her slightly chipped nail polish and chews on her bottom lip, accentuating the dimple in her left cheek.

I don’t know what it is about this small, somewhat insignificant girl that draws me closer and makes my stomach churn every time she says my name or smiles or sings. I don’t know what it is about her that makes me want to explore the darkened streets of New York City and hold her small hand in my own and write songs, the lyrics expressing what simple words cannot communicate. But I like it.

“So…where exactly we are going?” she prompts, keeping her eyes on the road as she spins the car around the corner. The rickety vehicle groans as it rotates; a vocal reminder of its deteriorating condition.

“It’s a surprise,” I grin, tapping my nose.

“What if I don’t like surprises?” she challenges with a smirk, stealing a quick glance at me.

“I thought all girls liked surprises...” I reply, frowning melodramatically.

She rolls her eyes. “Number one, not all girls like surprises. Welcome to the 21st Century. We’re even allowed to vote these days.”

I feign shock and she nods, playing along with me. “Wow, that’s a risky move. I see you’re allowed to use sarcasm too.”

She smiles sweetly. “Number two, you’re lucky that I’m an exception.”

“Meaning?” I raise my eyebrows at her.

“I like surprises.”

“Thank goodness for that,” I reply, grinning at her cheekily.

She sighs, but the breath is satisfied instead of impatient. “Which way now?”

“Take the second left and we’re there.”

“I might have lived in New York all my life, but I’ve never seen this part before,” she notes, gazing out the window.

“I bet you have, you just don’t recognize it because it’s so dark. What time is it?”

She glances at the clock behind the wheel. “Half eleven.”

It’s been a long night, but I don’t feel tired in the slightest.

A few streets down, Jasmine pulls over in the space I direct her to. She wedges the car between two BMWs, which look pristine in comparison to her ancient vehicle.

As if reading my thoughts, she blows a loose strand of hair from her face and says, “Hey, stop judging the poor car. So what it’s a bit rusty? Nothing a lick of paint can’t fix!”

“I thought it was meant to be boys who got all defensive over their cars...” I smirk, my mind darting to my close friend Taylor, who accompanies me on the meet and greet convention called the Magcon Tour.

“Whatever,” she huffs. “So where are we?”

“Come on,” I beckon for her to follow me, fumbling in my pocket for some keys I borrowed off Calum the other day and forgot to give back. I doubt that he’ll miss them.