What I Can’t Have~she (s.m.)
Part one of two (she and he) based on this lovely image. Hope y’all enjoy :)
Touring with Shawn Mendes had turned into so much more than strictly business. But for one night only. I knew that what had happened between us would never happen again.
I had convinced myself Shawn felt the same.
It was no mistake. But it happened under terms neither of us could comprehend. We weren’t drunk, far from it. Right after a show, night one of two concerts in New York. His hotel room. No alcoholic drinks of fancy names and expensive costs shared between us in glistening flutes. Just two teenagers, standing in an unused hotel kitchen, staring at each other as though speaking words were the hardest task they had ever found themselves doing.
That was okay though. We did’t need to speak. But part of me wished we would. It would have helped us to understand better why we did what we did. If he didn’t press his lips to mine and I didn’t let him, I wouldn’t be laying in his bed the morning after, wondering….what was next? I hated him for this confusion he caused. But also, I yearned for more. Because this confusion was the damn near best thing that I had ever experienced in all my years on this earth. No award I had ever received, no crowd that had ever cheered my name would ever measure up to the feelings Shawn Mendes had evoked out of me.