𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 → 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬 (𝐢𝐢)

four [s]

monday,
march 25th, 2020

SHAWN MENDES

"So we brought a couple outfits. Nothing too extravagant. We didn't quite know what to expect," my stylist, Tiff, chuckles politely and Trinity smiles.

"That's great," Trinity chirps and my heart swells, "let's have a look."

"Are we thinking casual?" Andrew asks, wedging in to the conversation as I stand there awkwardly.

I don't know what to say. What is there really to say? 'So, you're gonna take pics of me like we've never met', or 'how's my hair?'. Fuck. I feel so small and pathetic as she flips through the handful of clothing articles. I want to say something. Anything. But I have no clue where to start.

"Mmm, yeah," Trinity nods affirmatively, "What's your opinion on this?" She holds out a red tank top and black slacks with a light pink stripe down the sides as she asks Tiff for her input.

"That would look great," Tiff replies.

"How do you feel about wearing this, Mr. Mendes?"

My heart jumps when her dark eyes meet mine. It hurts to be addressed in such a formal manner, when she used to call me baby. My lips part as my mind rummages for words. Speak, Shawn, fucking speak. But I can't. I focus on her glistening irises as the reflection from the nearby windows bounces off her glasses that suit her well. It's been a while since I playfully stole her glasses and wore them myself. She'd always pretend to be annoyed, but she knew that I knew, that she loved it.

"Shawn," Trinity snaps me out of my daze and my throat tightens. I feel tears prick my waterline. Tiff shoots me a confused look.

I shake my head and clear my throat, forcing a smile, "Uh— yeah, yeah. That looks good."

A small smile graces Trinity's full lips and her eyes show a newfound emotion. Sympathy? Sorrow? Fake kindness? No idea. Whatever it is, I reciprocate the small grin and there's a split second where everything feels right again. Our eyes remain locked until the moment fizzles out because of Andrew nudging my shoulder.

"Go try it on, man," my manager says and I nod.

I walk towards Trinity and she hands me the outfit. I flinch as our fingers touch and she clears her throat. I nod as if to say thank you, afraid that my voice will fail if I speak. Tiff shows me behind the privacy fold-out wall and stands on the other side to grab my clothes as I toss them over the top of the mini wall. I dress in the semi-casual outfit, my heart beating out of my chest.

As I step back out into the view of everybody, I earn a playful 'oooh' from Geoff and Andrew. I chuckle, shaking my head. I see Trinity fumbling to slot the Canon camera into its place on the tripod, her cheekbones crimson. She eventually clicks it into place.

"Okay, uh, can you just stand..." She approaches me and gently cups my exposed shoulders, shuffling me to the side a bit. My skin burns at her touch. She glances between my position and the camera. "There's good."

She retreats to behind the camera and I silently sigh at the loss of her heartwarming touch. She twists a few dials and pushes a few buttons, mumbling how she's fixing up the settings.

"M'kay," she hums, looking up at me, "just do what feels comfortable. This won't take long, I might get you to sit on the floor or a stool in a sec. You can smile or pull a straight face, whatever you like. Ready?"

I melt at her words. Although she's being strictly professional, this is the nicest way she's spoken to me since our paths crossed after two whole years.