House of Boys

Part 6**

Finishing what you were doing in the kitchen, you turned out all the lights and headed upstairs to go to sleep.

The shock of Shawn's confession left you decently sober, removing your makeup and crawling into bed without even grabbing a glass of water.

Tossing and turning, you laid awake, staring at the ceiling, artificial light from the street lamps pouring into your bedroom.

You were sure of your feelings for Shawn now. They were deep down and a little tricky to uncover, but they were there. His chestnut eyes and soft curls and pearly white smile had you wrapped, and everything was different now that you knew he wanted you, too.

Sitting up, you came to the conclusion that trying to sleep was no use. Your mind was running wild: Shawn's eyes, Shawn's voice, Shawn's body. All were things you were on board with. You cared about him, and he needed to know you were serious.

Hopping out of bed, you pulled on a hoodie and some fuzzy socks, tucking your loose pyjama bottoms into them. You creeped out into the hall, peeking into Brian's room and see him fast asleep. Phew.

You tiptoed down the stairs, inching your way along ever so quietly. You got lost in your thoughts of knocking on Shawn's bedroom door, explaining how you were feeling, and hopefully falling asleep tangled in his arms. In your own little world, you got to the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner, only to be full-on body-smacked by an awfully large, firm, six foot three Shawn Mendes.

"Whoa!" you heard him yell-whisper, stumbling back on his feet a little. It was Shawn, tired and flustered and oh-so-dreamy. You were at a loss for words as he looked into your eyes, light from the street lamps cascading his face.

"Shawn, what are you doing?" you asked, taking a step back.

"Umm, I was just, well, I uh, I was coming to check on you," he said, searching his brain for an excuse.

"Oh? Well, I was doing the same, I guess? You, uh, you okay?" you asked awkwardly.

He chuckled, relaxing a bit. "Yeah, yeah I'm good. You look good. I-I mean, are you, are you uh, you good?" he asked, losing all his confidence as his sentence fell apart.

"Yes, yes Shawn I'm good. I'm good now," you said, taking a step closer to him.

"Good, like, sober-good? Not drunk anymore?" he took a step closer, too.

"Yeah, sober-good," you smiled, knowing where he was going with this.

You took in his appearance as your eyes adjusted to the darkness of downstairs. Plaid pyjama bottoms with socks, an old band t-shirt hanging loosely on his torso but fitting his arms just right. His hair was wild and his eyes were hopeful, burning into yours.

"So, have you given any thought into what I said earlier, then?" he asked, perking up a little.

"Yes," you said instantly, praying he would just accept it and make his move.

"Yes, like, yes yes?" he asked, uncrossing his arms.

"Yes, Shawn. Yes, yes, a million times yes," you responded, cut off by his lips crashing into yours. His hands were in your hair as his mouth fit yours perfectly, soft and sweet and everything in between.

His hands pulled your face closer to his as he smiled into the kiss and you pressed your hands into his torso, enjoying the feeling of his rock-hard abs through his shirt.

His kisses got softer as he pulled away, cupping your face with his massive hands and resting his forehead against yours. He exhaled, laughing a little.