𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 → 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬 (𝐢𝐢)

twenty-nine [s]

friday,
june 7th, 2020

SHAWN MENDES

"You have a doctor's appointment?" a confused Andrew asks over the phone, "Is everything okay?"

I sigh, "Yes. I'm fine. I'll explain when I see you, I just don't think I can make it to the studio today."

"Alright..." Andrew says skeptically, "I'm pretty sure the band wants to rehearse. I think I'll join them because I was planning on heading there anyway. You seem well set for the festival run anyways, but let me know if you wanna do a couple hours tomorrow or something."

"Perfect, man. I'll see you soon?" I reply, anxiously biting my bottom lip as I try to keep my voice at a calm level when in reality, I'm freaking out.

"See you, bud."

I hang up the phone and start pacing around my condo as I await the ping of the toaster. Biting at my nails, my nerves fuel terrifying thoughts in my mind. I'm distracted by the toaster dinging and I quickly pull out my toast and lightly butter the two slices. I sit down at the kitchen island, staring at my breakfast as if it's the most horrific thing on Earth.

I purse my lips as I hold a slice of toast up to my mouth. I take one bite, and although it's kind of delicious for such a plain meal, I feel far too sick to eat it.

With a sigh, I end up tossing the toast in the bin and only drinking half of my coffee. I wash out my mug before shoving it in the dishwasher and grabbing my windbreaker from where it lays on the couch. I shrug it on, scurrying to find my phone and keys before leaving my condo and making my way to the elevator.

When I reach basement level, I find my Jeep and hop in to the driver's seat. As I shove the keys in the ignition, music begins to play. I turn it down, resting my elbows on the wheel and holding my head in my hands. Frustratedly, I tug at the roots of my unruly curls, as if by clutching the waves of brown atop my head would get me out of this questionable situation.

With a shake of my head, I pull out of my parking space and proceed to leave the basement lot. After a few silent minutes of driving through Old Toronto, I turn up the music again.

I'm currently on my way to Brampton, where Jade lives. We're getting a paternity test done today.

Halfway through the forty minute journey, I'm stopped at a red light. With one eye consciously on the traffic lights, I grab my phone and text Trinity.

I spoke with her over the phone yesterday about the test today. She seemed slightly down, but never said anything about her feelings. She wished me luck and told me she'll be there to talk afterwards.

Shawn:
Thinking of you.

I exhale heavily through my nostrils, my shoulders dropping. It's the first time I notice that I'm incredibly tense. Fuck I miss her.

Trin:
you shouldn't be

I frown at her abrupt response. I know she means no harm though. Perhaps she's right. I shouldn't be thinking of her. I should be thinking of Jade and the possibility of her being the mother of my child.

For some reason, Trinity entirely consumes my thoughts.

Shawn:
I'm always thinking of you.

I shut my phone off as I catch the light transitioning to a bright green. I proceed, making my way along the Gardiner Expressway. Give or take another twenty-five minutes, I'm parked outside the medical centre in the city and waiting on a text from Jade to alert me that she's here.