Señorita

Chater 6

There was an uncomfortable silence between them. Some others were mumbling some things but neither of them opened their mouths. Isabel was frowning and Shawn was breathing fast.
"Of course I know who you are! You're Shawn Mendes! You came here today and I like your song Stitches." She frowned and Shawn turned toward the others. Ahmed was raising his brows and others were looking at each other.
"Sorry but why did you feel that you had to ask a question like that? Did I do something wrong?" Shawn stared at her face for a while.
"So you know my song stitches?" She chuckled.
"Of course I do. Everyone knows that song."
Shawn nodded and swallowed while Isabel was still looking at his face confused.
"Sorry," Shawn mumbled and tried to turn around but he couldn't.
" 'Sorry' is not the answer to my question." She said annoyed. Everyone could feel the tension.
"I said I'm sorry! Ok?! What else do you want?!" Shawn finally yelled and got up from his chair, causing it to fall on the stone floor.
"Why are you yelling? There's no reason for you to get angry." She said with a calm voice and turned toward Shawn on her chair, who's face went red from anger.
"Never mind. You can continue your game." with that, Isabel got up, grabbed her jacket and left.
"Ok, who's gonna give out the cards?" John tried to change the subject but no one answered.
"I'll give them out then," he chuckled nervously.
"I'm going home. I'm a bit tired and also I'm sorry for the unnecessary disturbance." He didn't wait for them to give an answer. With fast steps, he left the restaurant and walked back home. His hand was going to his pocket, where his phone was to call Jess. He grabbed his phone a few times but he couldn't call her. He realized that he started sweating. His anxiety was about to kick in. He rubbed the back of his neck with his sweaty hands. His breath got heavier and his legs were almost shaking. Just like the lyrics of his song In My Blood, it was like the walls were caving in.  He was mumbling some things he couldn't even understand himself. He was trying so hard to think about something else but he couldn't. Flashbacks of the past were coming back. Drinks, broken guitars, weed, magazines, stage, fans, interviews, cameras flashing in front of his face, tones of questions, paparazzo, disappointed faces, his mum, were all blurry but one thing was very clear in his mind.
Seeing Jess cry.
Like a thunder cloud, the thought fell over him. He didn't know what he was doing. He was walking but he wasn't even sure if that was the way to his house. He opened the water bottle in his hand and drank some, and poured the left on his head. He was soaked but it felt good 'cause it was hot and moist. It took him a few minutes to get back on truck. He wasn't walking from side to side nor was his hands were shaking anymore.

The vibration in his pocket brought him back to reality. Without hesitating, he answered the call.
"Andrew?!"
"Hey Shawn. How's it going?"
"Horrible." He groaned, realizing that he had to turn left to go home.
"Oh c'mon man! It can't be that bad."
"Oh trust me. I even got in to a fight with a girl." Andrew sighed.
"Did we send you there to argue with the locals?"
"She's not a local."
"That wasn't my point."
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"Try to stay calm, be nice to everyone, focus on your music and-"
"I can't just focus on anything!" He yelled, catching some people's attention who were sitting at their balconies.
"Sorry," he mumbled again shooting a smile at the lady.
"I miss Jess. Is she there? Can I talk to her?"
"She's not here. We dropped her off."
"Where?"
"Alex's place."
"You're joking right?" He chuckled angrily.
"Shawn don't exaggerate. They're friends and you know it."
"That dude is hitting on her. What do you expect me to do? To get a popcorn and let him confuse her? Oh that's definitely not gonna happen." He said opening his door.
"I'll call you tomorrow again. I'm really not interested in arguing with you." Shawn rolled his eyes.
"Tell Jess I love her."
"Bye Shawn." Shawn didn't care to hang up and threw the phone on his new, empty and cold bed.
There was no one to blame for the things he had done. he couldn't undo them. He couldn't take the time back. He couldn't fix the hearts he broke. He couldn't take back the drinks, the nights. He couldn't look at someone without feeling ashamed of himself. So he couldn't complain. He was lucky that there were still some people to help him get back on his feet. And they were the only reason he was still there. They were there for him when he felt like he was in a void, and couldn't get out.

He took off his shirt and threw it on the floor. It was too hot to sleep with something on. The air conditioning was there, but he was still too lazy to switch on the lights and look for the remote. He was too lazy to take his jeans off too. If he could sleep in them, he wouldn't even bother take them off. He changed into a pair of shorts and got in the bed. He tried falling asleep but he couldn't. The sheets were too uncomfortable. He kicked them off the bed like a child and tried falling asleep one more time.

Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful.

Hours passed, him turning from left to right, lying face down, on his back, but nothing. He was sweating and it was too silent. There were no cars outside, or drunk teenager laughing loudly. Toronto was a loud city, even at night but now, in a deserted-like-island, there weren't even cicadas. He sighed and jumped off the bed. He was driving himself crazy just by thinking about the silence. He put on his sneakers, a white t-shirt, grabbed his key and his phone and stormed out of his house too the narrow streets that were only illuminated by the moon and the street lamps.