weak | S.M

8

"I swear to god, Claire, if I hear another complain about this 'canadian shithead' from him, I will chop his head off." I chuckle as I open the fridge. - Empty; except eggs, olives, and milk. I can make this work.

"It's really that bad?" I ask her. I put my phone in the crook of my neck as I bend down to pull the ingredients out. I decide to make an omelette.

"It's that bad." Julia tells me with a sigh. She's talking about Mr. Ravenford. Ever since the whole lawsuit started, he's been acting a bit... Well, he's been a dick. He's stressed over the fact that Mendes's loyars keeps kicking his ass in court, all while the majority of the employees keeps resigning. But who could blame them? - This company is going down. Rick's biggest problem is that he's got no way out of this. - Because he's the one who screwed up.

"The worst part is that he keeps trash talking you." Julia brings up.

"Me?" I ask her, bewildered. "Why is he coming at me?" 

"Claire," Julia addresses seriously. "We all know you've been working with Shawn Mendes." My hand pauses on the eggs.

Inhale.

Exhale.

How does she...?

"How do you know about that?"

"Word gets around," She waves off. "Trust me though, I don't care. I'm quitting this company anyway. Rick's pissed, however. Keeps talking about how you 'betrayed us', bla-bla-bla,"

I feel my heart sink to my stomach, but I stay silent. What can I answer to that?

"Anyway," She continues. I whip the eggs together with milk and pour some salt into it.

"How's it like working with him?" I freeze.

"Hm? Who?"

"Mendes," She clarifies. "Was he how you imagined he'd be?" How I imagined he'd be?

***

Shawn moves his hands to my thighs and lifts me to sit on his lap. I drape my hands over his shoulders as I deepen the kiss. His tongue meets mine and I feel his hands on my hips. I shiver when his fingers find the naked skin between my shirt and shorts as they draw circles against it. I feel his curls between my fingers and a groan slips out of him when I start pulling on it.

The second his lips leaves mine to travel down my jaw, my eyes snap open and I'm back to my senses.

"Shawn," I breathe as his lips travel across my neck. This is wrong. His tongue teases my skin and I pant as I try to fight the warmth spreading across my body. So wrong. So right.

"Shawn," I call to him again. "Shawn, stop."

***

"What do you mean?"

"You said you thought he seemed off when you watched his interviews,"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Well?" She presses. "Was he?"

"Was he what?"

"Was he off?" Julia sighs, "What's up with you? Why are you being so... vague?"

"Sorry, I'm just exhausted. I've been writing all day, my head is all mush!"

"Are you almost finished with the article?"

"Uh... Yeah. Sorry, can we talk about something else? I've been writing all week and it's getting a bit... intense." I lie. Well, half-lie. It has been an intense week... I don't want to talk about him. Or this.