C'est Toi • Shawn Mendes (Coffee Shop AU)

Chapter EIGHT

Tuesday - January 28, 2019 - 07:11

There's a feeling in the pit of my stomach that won't go away––it hasn't gone away since I left my sketchbook in the coffee shop. I have this feeling of anticipation looming about in my stomach. But I don't know what I'm anticipating. Am I preparing myself for disappointment in case he doesn't text me? Am I preparing myself for a text?

I hate waiting. And I hate not knowing what's to come.

___

I haven't been to Brightside in five days. I kept to my promise that I would see Shawn later.

After I rushed back to my flat after the disastrous end of our conversation, I hurriedly knocked on Ella's door and didn't stop until she let me in. I told her I left my sketchbook, she hugged me tight, and told me that I couldn't go back until he texted me. But then I told her that he called me a customer.

Her smile faltered, but she was back to her enthusiastic self and promised me that he would text.

But five days later, as I laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling fan, I had yet to receive any text.

I heard a knock on my door and yelled out a non-excited come in, and Ella's head popped around the door with a sympathetic smile.

"Still nothing?"

With a sigh, I closed my eyes, feeling even more embarrassed than the day I asked for his name, "Nothing."

I heard a small squeak of the door being opened, and then a soft click of the door when it was shut. I didn't need to have my eyes open to know that Ella walked further into my room. I heard the wheels of my rolling chair slid across the floor and then felt Ella's hand on my arm.

"Give it a little more time, I'm sure he's just––"

I snapped my eyes open and turned my head to look at her, "It's been five days. If he hasn't texted me now, he won't ever text me."

Ella offered me a sympathetic smile, "At least you can say you tried."

But that's the thing, I thought to myself, I didn't try enough. How was he even supposed to know that I left my sketchbook there for him to find so that he could text me? It was ludicrous for me to even think that this plan would be somewhat successful.

"Maybe someone else picked it up?" Her voice was high as she offered a weak excuse for my silent phone.

I let out another deep sigh, "That would be even worse," I sat up in bed and rubbed the heel of my palm over my right eye, "That would mean all of my drawings are lost and my brother gave me that sketchbook––"

"I'm sure it's still at Brightside," Ella tried to sound confident, but we both knew it was a lost cause, "Give it a few more days, if he doesn't text you, then you can just live your life...You are in London after all." She winked.

I tried to laugh, but it came out sounding like a whimper.

"Let's get your mind off it," She used her feet to push the chair away from the side of my bed and stood up, "A few of us are going to the park to play football."

I quirked an eyebrow, "You play football?"

Ella nodded slowly, her face looked just as confused as mine, "When I was younger. I'm not fantastic but I can still try and have fun."

"I––I'll come watch," I swung my feet over the bed as I started walking toward my closet to change out of my jeans, "The rules have always confused me, but I've heard enough of my dad and brother yelling at the T.V. that I have some knowledge of it." I pulled out an old t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, "I didn't think football was big here in England."