Don't Wake Me Up - Shawn Mendes

PART EIGHT

The rest of the day flew by, and before I know it, it's time to go home. Leaving sooner also means I skip the busy commute, so I get home even quicker. Why don't I always do that? Oh yeah, I hate waking up early... I get home, hop in the shower real quick, but put my hair up in a bun. That's a cute relaxed look, right? I do my makeup and put on a t-shirt dress and tights, which elevates my messy bun look perfectly, and I head for the door. I had already called the sushi place and pick up my order on my way to the subway station.

"Omw, I should be there in 20."

Shawn's place is a short walk from the station, so I try to take this time to calm my nerves. I get to his building and send him another text so he lets me in. I see him get off the elevator as I wait in the vestibule, and his smile takes my breath away for a second. This is getting annoying. He opens the door for me:

"Hey there," he says as he takes the bag from my hand and bends down to kiss me on the cheek.

"Hi, how are you?"

"Oh I was getting hungry, so it's a good thing you're here! And you?"

"I'm good, thanks. Off for the weekend, so."

"Cool, any plans?"

"Nothing yet. I have a bit of cleaning up to do around my apartment, so I'll do that. Nothing too glamorous! And you?"

"Not much either, probably see a friend that's in town, but nothing sure yet."

We get in the elevator, and walk to his place.

"Shut up. Are you for real? This is your apartment?" I say as I take a first look around the place. It has nice big windows and a beautiful view of the city. The furniture is nice and modern, and it's surprisingly clean.

"So I take it you like it?"

"Like it?! It's gorgeous." I'm in the kitchen now. "Oh my God, do you like to cook Shawn? 'Cause this kitchen is a dream."

"I don't actually. Never really learned how."

"What a waste," I tease him. "Next time, I'm cooking us something here. Oh wow!" I keep walking around, opening cabinets, as Shawn watches me and laughs.

"Okay, well next time you can do that, but right now there's delicious sushi waiting to be eaten."

"Right! Sorry. Let's go."

We make our way to the living room, and I'm confused. Are we eating structurally weak food, with chopsticks and soy sauce, on something other than an actual table? What does this guy have with eating difficult to eat food in the worst possible situations! I sit cross-legged at the coffee table, where I see he set it with place mats, plates, and wine glasses. Cute. I get the sushi out of the bag while he gets the wine from the fridge and joins me.

"Are you a chopsticks man, or?" I say, trying to make conversation. I don't know if we have to revisit the topic of our argument, so I'll let him bring it up. Wait. I thought I'd let him bring up something else and it got me in trouble. Maybe it's best if I ask.

"Yeah, sure," he replies while crouching down.

Before we start eating, I ask:

"So, we're good, right? Nothing you'd like to add about what happened earlier this week?"

"No worries Alice, I overreacted a bit, I should've let you explain yourself."

"Yeah, well me being naked and in the next room didn't really help the situation, come to think of it."

He blushes as he takes a bite, and I wonder if it's 'cause I mentioned I was naked.

"Well, I always say 'communication is key'," I continue, "so how about we always give the other at least one shot at explaining themselves, no matter what happens. Deal?" I hold up my wine glass to toast.

"Deal," he agrees, clinking our glasses together.

We both take a sip.