THE SLOPES | shawmila

three.

A/N: remember to comment or face my wrath

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Even though he was on vacation, Shawn woke up early. His body was still on Miami time, and he opened his eyes to see it was still dark out.

He reached groggily for his phone on the nightstand and saw that it was not even six am. He blinked in surprise before he slowly remembered that they were now two hours behind.

While back home he would have been getting ready for his shift at the restaurant, he could do his lazy morning routine here, and now with plenty of time to spare.

It was freezing as he stuck one leg out from under the blankets. He quickly felt on the floor for his sweatpants and pulled them on, the fabric cold on his legs. He found his sweatshirt on the floor too and pulled that on.

He didn't bother to brush his hair, instead just quickly running his fingers through it. It was still super soft from his shower yesterday, where he did steal Camila's conditioner. He'd just said that because—well, he didn't know why he said it—but it made her laugh, so he had to follow through with it.

It wasn't snowing, but the wind cut like ice as he pried open the window a few inches. He stuffed his quilt down by the crack in the bedroom door to keep from freezing the rest of the cabin.

He sat down on the floor under the open window and smoked. The high settled in, despite the joint being old and stale and hidden in ten rolled up socks in the bottom of his suitcase for the whole trip.

He closed the window as soon he was done, laying back on the bed and just relaxing, watching the dark sky outside.

He should write, but he didn't feel like moving. He should play, but he was lucky to get a lot of practice in last night, and he didn't want to risk waking anyone up just yet.

Instead, he just zoned out, allowing himself to be present in himself in the moment—something he wasn't used to a lot back home. Back home, he was either getting yelled at in the kitchen while washing dishes or yelled out in the dining area when busing tables. He couldn't remember the last time he actually got to cook something at work without being criticized the whole time.

It was why he liked hobby cooking better. At least the people who ate his food were appreciative, and it was a fun bonding thing for him and his sister. Or someone else.

He turned his head and stared at the charging cable still plugged into his phone.

He remembered the night before last—he and Aaliyah's first in the cabin. He'd been relaxing here too, on the bed just plucking at the strings of his guitar, when the door opened.

"Can I talk to you?"Aaliyah asked.

"What's up?"

"It's about Sofia, you know she's bringing her sister, right?"

"So?" Shawn tried not to feel anything, or show what he felt.

"So, I just don't want you to—I mean, Camila's probably going to want to follow us around the whole time, but we don't need a chaperone every second... if you could..."

"You want me to do what?" Shawn blinked. "Distract her? Hang out with her the whole time?"

"Not the whole time..." Aaliyah didn't deny it and Shawn sat up.

"I barely know her. I've talked to this girl like twice in my life—"

"Come on, Shawn! Just make sure guys stay busy and don't bug us the whole time—"

"I bug you?"

"A little, yeah."

Shawn eventually agreed, torn between both laughter at her and pure annoyance. She eventually left him alone again, but he didn't feel much like playing guitar.