CONSEQUENCES

Chapter 1 - Blame, Planes & Automobiles

Shawn sighed as he scrolled through his newsfeed.

"Mendes and Cabello Caught Cheating"

"Cheaters Exposed!"

"Shawn and Camila's Nude Romp"

"Popstars Leave Partners Heartbroken as they are Caught Cheating"

"Cabello Leaves Mendes To Face the Music"

"Where's Camila? Seen Leaving Country Amid Cheating Scandal"

He was seriously getting tired of seeing his naked ass, pixelated or not. He should have taken his team's advice and disappeared like Camila, but he had been sure it would blow over. Two weeks later and the pics were still being regurgitated on social media, with the worst of them being turned into memes and gifs for everyone's amusement. He couldn't post on Instagram or Twitter for fear of abuse. Some fans were furious, some furious on their behalf, asking everyone to leave them alone, saying they were only human. He loved those guys.

His phone rang and he answered.

"Hi Andrew, what now?"

"Some of the foundation charities are concerned you are sending the wrong message with your immoral shenanigans."

"You made that up."

"I kid you not, those were the words they used."

"It will blow over eventually."

"Well, unless Taylor Swift announces she's pregnant with triplets, I think it's going to keep it's number one spot in the gossip cycle for a while yet."

"What do you want me to do? I'm supposed to be back on tour in a month."

"I've told you what I think, disappear for a while. Camila had the right idea. Every time you leave the house, there's a photo and they get to bring it up again. No new photos, less excuse to talk about it."

Shawn ran his hands through his hair. "OK, OK, I'll think about it."

Andrew updated him on some business stuff and said goodbye. Out the window, Shawn could see the little knot of paps across the road. They must be best friends by now, their kids probably had play dates together, they probably made each other friendship bracelets for fucks sake.

He needed to talk to someone, but there was only one person he wanted to talk to.

He looked at his phone again. Where are you Camila?

Why did he miss her so damn much? They'd been friends forever and now, a couple of "sex romps" together and he couldn't stop thinking about her. He was whipped. He was....

He sat up straight.
I love her.

I'm fucking in love with her.

Shit.

He stood up and began to pace. He needed to see her, he needed to tell her.

He stopped and looked at the time on his phone. If he left now, depending on what flights were available, he could be there by this time tomorrow. He just had to find out exactly where she was. He tried to remember what she had said. A town in the South that sounded like Cabello, and the villa was called Miami and was near a vineyard. No problem.

He squeezed in past the large woman on the aisle and folded himself into the centre seat. He had run out of his house in his sweat pants and t-shirt, his hair, already well overdue for a cut, was a curly mess, his face unshaven, but if he didn't catch this flight it was going to be two days before he could get to Rome. Last minute travel also not only required him to take three different flights, but there had been no first or business class left, he was lucky to get this seat in fact, but he was going to find Camila as soon as possible, even if it meant fourteen hours squeezed between a large woman who snored like a drunken sailor and Francis. Francis was a real estate agent of Lebanese descent with short, oiled dark hair and ridiculously smooth skin, he was from San Francisco and was on his way to Rome to meet his online boyfriend for the first time, and Shawn knew this because Francis insisted on telling him the entire story, with accompanying photos from his phone.