NEXTDOOR → STALKER!SHAWN

[4]

Warnings: Cursing, smut, blood

"So, how are you liking the big apple so far?" You ask loudly, playing with the salted rim of your margarita glass.

Shawn looks around the bar, scanning his surroundings. People were everywhere, the bar packed for a weekday. Music was blaring loudly over the speaker and a bunch of drunken adults were obscenely grinding against one another. It definitely wasn't either of your's ideal location to go on a first date- If that's even what you could call this.

"It's great." Shawn nods, bringing his beer up to his lips. "Great atmosphere, great company."

He gives you a small wink when he finishes speaking, eliciting a small blush from you. You shake your head with a grin, trying to hide your expression from him, but he sees you clearly. Tonight, he sees everything about you clear as day.

He notices every single micro-expression you make when he gives you certain answers over others. He notices how tight the dress you're wearing is, and how uncomfortable you are in it, constantly pulling it down further over your thighs. He notices the ring of red lipstick you leave on your glass and the interesting color of eyeshadow you chose, wondering how long it took you finish doing it.

Everything about you was truly fascinating to him, and if he had his way, he'd have you all to himself very, very soon.

"Was the interview yesterday alright?" You chime, trying to keep the conversation rolling smoothly.

"It was amazing." He smirked, his eyes darkening. "It certainly helps when you have such a beautiful woman asking the questions."

His charming comment doesn't fail to make your face heat up again, rolling your eyes. "You're too sweet. But, sorry if I seemed a little off yesterday. I'm usually not nervous around celebrities."

"I know."

"Huh?"

Shawn glances up at you from his glass, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your "Huh".

"You said you know?" You elaborate, cocking your head at him.

"Oh," Shawn mentally curses at himself in his head for his slip up, quickly recovering in the only way he saw fit. "I- Well, to be honest, I've seen you before, in your interviews."

"No way!" You gape at him, pinching his arm lightly. "You knew who I was before? Why didn't you say anything?"

Shawn shrugs nonchalantly, propping his head up with his palm. "I dunno, I didn't want you to think I was a stalker or something. I've only seen you when you interviewed people I've worked with, you know. So really, only a few videos."

Only all of your videos.

You squint at him and nod, and he can tell you're not buying his story completely. But that doesn't matter right now.

He's staring you down like a hawk and you're doing the same to him, the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. He wanted you, you could see it in his eyes, but he didn't budge and neither did you. This silent torture continued on for many minutes more. Your eyes roamed over his exposed neck that you'd love to mark and then to his arms, which you swear he was purposefully flexing, because nobody's arms looked that perfect when resting. His hands were a whole other story, the veins coursing through his skin doing things to you, and he knew this.

He had you right where he wanted you, and now, it was time to sink his claws in and never let go.

"Hey," Shawn speaks up, making you gaze up to meet his darkened eyes. "Would you like to get out of here?"