GIN AND JUICE pt 11

“Oh my God.”

Caroline stared wide at you when you walked through your dorm room door. She was perched on the edge of her ballet pink covered bed with a small hand mirror applying a final coat of lipgloss before leaving for her morning class.

“You had sex last night,” she gawked; “you had sex last night with Shawn fucking Mendes.” She tossed the mirror aside and flopped onto her stomach, waving her feet in the air like a toddler ready for storytime. “Fuck class, tell me everything.”

You dipped your head, feeling the blood rush up your neck to your face, embarrassed that it was so obvious. You knew you felt it, like something was different, but it wasn’t so much about the sex itself. It was the weight of it, the heaviness of the moment that made you feel so light. The barrier that had broken between the two of you, the remaining metal shards of his shattered armor now lodged in your chest, felt like the last conquered obstacle between you and the boy beneath. The boy you thought you might be, could be, falling in love with.

Caroline cleared her throat, pulling you from your thoughts, “unless you don’t want to tell me.” She made a pouty face. For all her You rolled your eyes, clearly surrendering to her plea for girl talk. Dropping your bag near your desk, you hopped up on your bed and fixed her with a serious stare, “okay, you get three questions. Choose wisely. Under no circumstances will I tell you anything about his anatomy.”

“EEEEEP, okay, okay,” she clapped her hands like a toddler, “what did you do for your date?” You breathed a sigh of relief, only two more questions. Hopefully she’d stay away from the personal things that you didn’t even think you could answer, things you still needed to process yourself. Like how you felt about Shawn. So, you described the earlier part of the evening, in painstaking detail, hoping it would distract her. You told her about him ordering too much sushi, about him not knowing anything about literature, about your bargain to run so he would read a novel, about him watching Romeo + Juliet with you and not paying attention at all, choosing instead to watch you watch the movie until he invited you into his arms.

“Girl, I don’t know how you did it,” Caroline said, her attention rapt, “I would have mauled him.” You grinned at her, picking at the seams on your white comforter. Narrowing her eyes, she sat up and leaned forward, almost pitching herself off her bed, “what? What aren’t you saying?”

“Well, I kind of did maul him,” you laughed, internally cheering at your ability to trip her up, “also, that was your second question.” You giggled at her horrified expression, glad that she only had one more question left. Caroline sat there dumbfounded for a little bit longer, contemplating her next move.

“Wow,” Caroline forfeited, “that was low, but good. I’m impressed.” She brought her fist to her chin, thinking hard about her final question. Suddenly, her eyes softened and she reached over, grabbing your hand and creating a bridge between your two beds, “was he gentle?”

Tears welled up in your eyes. You knew that Caroline cared about you, that she knew more about you than she let on, that she watched you when she thought you didn’t see, but it was such a tender question. Especially given she could have asked anything else about him.

“Yeah,” you smiled at the memory of him holding you in his arms all night long, “he was.” She nodded and smiled back at you, giving your hand an extra squeeze, “good, because if he hurt you, I’d be out for fucking blood.”

Bzz. Bzz.

An incoming text on Caroline’s phone cut your moment short. She picked it up, rolling her eyes and grinning, hammering out a reply, “it’s my friend Naomi. She wants me to meet her for lunch. I better run.”

“Thanks, Caroline,” you said, getting up and giving her an unexpected hug. It had been a day of firsts and this was no different. Caroline gasped, tensing before squeezing you back. You could tell she was surprised, and to be honest, so were you. But, it felt right. You were glad that you could share this with someone, even if you couldn’t share everything with her. She stepped away, wiping a year from her cheek and grabbing her bag, as she walked out the door she whispered over her shoulder, “I’ll get his anatomy out of you, just you WAIT.”

You laughed as the door clicked shut and locked, shaking your head. It was Thursday, so you had a couple of hours before your first class. The stack of textbooks piled on your desk beckoned, but you resisted, opting instead to pull out your laptop and look up the football schedule. Maybe you’d finally give Caroline her wish since you had a reason to go, however painful it might be. You really wanted to see him play in person.

Your heart dropped.

This weekend was an away game. That meant he was definitely leaving tomorrow. Your mind told you that this was silly, that the pang in your chest was ridiculous. You only just met him. But, your heart, since this morning when you broke away that final time and ran to your car, felt like it was being pulled by a string, so taut it might break at any moment. You could only assume that if you followed it, reeled it in, you’d find Shawn waiting for you, feeling that same pressure in his chest.

You pulled out your phone and opened your messages.

You: Why didn’t you tell me you have an away game this weekend?

Unfolding your legs and crawling out of bed, you didn’t expect a response, assuming he was at practice, but your phone buzzed almost immediately.

Shawn: Oh, ****. I guess because football never really came up and I didn’t think about it…are you upset?

You: I mean, not really…I’ll just miss you.

You: It sounds stupid, I know.

Shawn: If it makes you feel less stupid, I’ll miss you too. I was getting used to waking up with you in my bed ;)

Your cheeks flamed at his innuendo.

Shawn: You don’t have to respond to that…what are you doing later?

You: I’ve got class and then I was gonna hit the library. My usual routine.

Shawn: Wanna meet up at the library? I have physiology but I can meet you at like 3? Our spot?

You: See you then!

A stupid smile plastered on your face, you thought about the fact that you had a spot in the library. It was where you first met him sober, but it was also the place where you lied to him last. Maybe today you could erase that dark memory and make a happy new one.

* * * * * * * * * *

Shawn could feel the burn in his legs, he was walking so fast. He only had eighteen hours before he’d be on a bus across the state, so he needed to make this time with her count. The library was neutral ground. It seemed like a good place to regroup after the intense night at his house.

He retrieved the keys to his study room from his favorite librarian and headed down to the basement. Though he thought he was handling the hours away from her fairly well considering her sprinting departure from his front door, when he saw her, leaning on the study room door, playing with her hair while she waited for him, he felt a thump in his chest so acute he had to pause. The fish hook was back, the one that, after last night, now felt embedded in his chest, slowly pulling him toward her, radiating a siren song that he was powerless to escape.

“Hi,” he said, startling her. Her wide eyes skittered around the deserted corridor, searching for someone in a mile radius who might have seen him acknowledge her. He could see the tension radiating off of her, ricocheting off the walls and even making him twitchy. Unlocking the door, he ushered her in as quickly as possible, if only to soothe her clearly frazzled nerves.

As soon as he shut the door, he felt her arms slide around him. Her face pressed into his back and he could feel her breathing settle, the stress from outside slowly dissipating. He covered her arms with his and squeezed gently, “do I really make you that nervous?”

“It’s not you,” she whispered, her voice colored with the memory of past anxiety, “it’s the eyes outside. I mean, we’ve already fallen victim to what happens if people just casually see us together. They assume I’m some slut you’re banging for fun.” He turned to look at her, catching her face between his massive hands, “but you’re not some slut. We could show them that.”

“No, Shawn,” she stumbled backward to give herself some space, “you don’t understand. Here? At this school? Girls would hate me. I wouldn’t be able to walk to class without someone whispering ‘that’s Shawn’s girl.’ Even thinking about it makes me not want to leave my dorm room ever again.”

“Do you think there will ever be a time that it will be okay?” he asked, shoes scuffing the carpet like he did when he was nervous, “will I ever be able to hold your hand out there?” She walked back toward him, putting on her best ‘let’s forget about this’ face, and took his hand in hers.

“You can hold my hand right now,” she said, standing up on her tiptoes to capture his lips. Her mouth was soft against his at first, but when he didn’t immediately respond, determined to finish the conversation, she took some initiative, determined to make him forget. Dropping his hand and pushing against his chest, she backed him up to the wall, temporarily disconnecting them. His eyes widened, mouth opening in protest, when she reached up again to kiss him, pleading, almost begging him to kiss her back, to forget about their future and just feel with her.

“Please,” he heard her whimper against his lips. He exhaled in a rush, her plea cutting him to the quick. If he couldn’t be with her out there, he wasn’t going to let go of her here. So, he drew her to him, arms wrapping almost completely around her back, and opened to her. The kiss was turbulent, wild, full of emotions neither of them understood or could put words to—a clash of teeth, lips, and tongues. She slid her hands up his biceps and up the side of his neck, her soft touch against the sensitive skin pulling a moan from him. Her fingers found purchase in his thick curls, combing roughly through them and grasping at the nape of his neck. She held onto him like a life raft, like he was the only thing keeping her from drowning.

He knew that if he didn’t break the kiss now, he wouldn’t, and he knew her modesty would not react kindly to the moans he was sure to elicit. Wrapping his hands around her wrists, he finally unraveled himself from her. They both panted, loud and uneven in the silent study room. He pressed his forehead to hers, slowly calming down, evening out his breath. He looked into her eyes, irises just a halo around her blown pupils.

“Hey,” he smiled, exhaling a laugh, “what are you reading for class?” She looked confused for a moment and then burst into a fit of effervescent giggles. A tear streamed down her face before she could finally answer, “I’m sorry I just wasn’t expecting that. I’m reading North & South. It’s a nineteenth-century British novel that talks about a cultural differences between northern and southern England during the Industrial Revolution.”

“Oh, that sounds…fascinating,” he couldn’t help but grimace. She slapped him playfully on the shoulder, “it’s really good! Maybe I’ll make you read it.”

“That reminds me that you’re going running with me when I get back,” his eyes flashed, imagining her *** in leggings. He barely refrained from groaning, instead opting to walk over to his bag and pull out his anatomy flashcards.

“Want to read to me while I study for my anatomy quiz?” he asked, sitting down and pulling out a chair next to him. She took out her book and sat down. He looked sideways at her and patted his lap, an invitation to put her legs up. She turned her chair to face him and swung her legs up, leaning back and stretching, before turning to her bookmarked page.

“But the future must be met,” she read, a pleasant low sound different from her normal speaking voice, “however stern and iron it be.”

They stayed there for hours. He rubbed circles on her thigh and reviewed medical vocabulary while she read to him. When his stomach growled, signalling the end of study time, they picked up their things and started toward the door. She turned back, looking wistfully at the room, a satisfied look on her face. A sensation Shawn hadn’t felt before tingled on his scalp. He still couldn’t shake their earlier conversation and the impassioned kiss that followed. As he closed the door behind him, her reading voice floated back to him.

But the future must be met…

* * * * * * * * * *

Shawn: Hey, are you still awake?

It was late Saturday night when your phone lit up with his text. Eyes bleary from your nap, you perked up when you saw who it was from. You had watched the game earlier with Caroline, begging her to not make too big of a deal when Shawn came in for the second half, his bench sentence served. He played well, the best he’s played all season the announcers said, which still gave him the edge for the Heisman race. You had heard of the Heisman before, but you couldn’t fully wrap your mind around Shawn, your boyfriend, having his name repeated over and over again so close to it. Watching that game you realized that he was maybe even more of a big deal than you thought, which ultimately made you anxious and tired. A nap had been in order.

You: Just woke up from a nap :) What are you up to?

Shawn: I’m standing outside your door.

WHAT?! You almost flipped your bed over with the speed of your movements. Wrenching the door open, he stood there, still in his bus clothes, with a giant duffel bag strapped to his back. He stepped inside casually, like you weren’t gaping at him, turning to shut the door for you.

“But, how? I don’t understand?” you babbled, “how are you here?” Shawn smiled and you were stunned into silence, “well, after the game, the guys wanted to get back for parties so we voted to leave right aw–” He couldn’t finish his sentence because you knocked the air out of his lungs with the force of your embrace. You collided with him, breathing in his scent, feeling his hard muscle under his clothes.

“I missed you,” he said, bringing his arms around you and resting his cheek against your hair. You could only hum in response. He untangled your arms from around him just long enough to remove his duffel before pulling you back in.

“Where’s Caroline?” he asked with genuine curiosity, “and why aren’t you with her?” You looked up at him, resting your chin on his chest, lightly scratching down his back over his t-shirt, a devilish glint in your eye, “she’s out with Naomi. Won’t be back until tomorrow. Parties, like you said.”

“Are you saying we have this room to ourselves?” he smirked, taking the hint. You grabbed his hands and led him toward your bed.

“That,” you said, sitting down on the edge of your mattress, “is exactly what I’m saying.” His shirt bunched as you ran your hand up his torso, feeling each ripple in his abs. He hissed when you reached his nipples, already sensitive from the adrenaline of seeing you. Raising his shirt over his head, he stood between your legs and watched you explore his body. You skimmed every inch of his skin with your fingers, getting braver when he closed his eyes in obvious pleasure. Your hand brushed the front of his sweats and he hissed, not expecting so forward a touch from you. He was hard for you, really hard.

“So, I want to try something…” you bit your bottom lip, hesitating. Shawn gripped your chin and tugged on your lip with his thumb, releasing it from your teeth, “we can try whatever you want, baby.”

“I just want to make you feel good,” a blush blooming at the memory of last week flashing in your mind, diving off a cliff while he cradled you in his arms, “like you did for me.” You reached for his sides and pushed the fabric covering his lower body down. He sprung from his fabric confines, a soft slap of skin against his abdomen, indicating he was more than ready for you.

You grasped him, applying gentle pressure before darting your tongue out to tentatively taste the tip. The moan that left his chest was deep, vibrating low in his groin, and when you looked up, you found him staring back at you, his usual honey-colored eyes turned a deep, rich chocolate. Keeping your eyes on him, you experimented, using your mouth to coat him while he disappeared between your lips. You swirled your tongue around the head, right up to the slit.

“Oh God,” he cried out, fingers twitching to take control but opting instead to just thread them into your hair, his hands guiding but allowing you full power over the situation. You took him into your mouth over and over again, feeling every subtle movement in his hands, twisting your hand still at his base. Sweat started to bead on his chest, a sign that he was close, but his eyes were still locked with yours. A single lock of hair curled across his forehead. You wanted to watch him fall apart, just like he had watched you.

“That feels so good,” he keened, his grip in your hair tightening, just as his whole body shuddered. Right on the precipice, his eyes asked a silent question that you answered with one last increase in suction, hollowing your cheeks. His head fell back as he yelled his release into your mouth, erratically thrusting his hips and a flush coloring his chest. You swallowed his essence, the bittersweet salt settling in the back of your throat.

You freed him from your mouth and he collapsed next to you on your bed, an arm draped across his face. You snuggled up to his side and played with the hair on his chest. As the heat retreated from his body, you watched the color in his chest recede, returning to a pale tan, lighter than the arm that snaked around your waist. You mentally checked this experience off your list and added several checkboxes next to it, plenty for repeat occasions.

Watching Shawn fall apart, your lips still wrapped around him, had felt so beautifully intimate that you almost closed your eyes, offering him a moment of privacy. But you couldn’t. Every time he lost himself in you, he left a piece of himself; he pushed another shard of metal into your chest for safe-keeping. You wanted to tell him that you’d keep them forever, that he could leave as many broken pieces of armor with you as he needed, until your heart was riddled with ragged metal plates and chains. It felt like an addiction, the slow shattering of Shawn. The more time you spent with him, the more you talked, the more you laughed, the more you kissed, the more you shared your bodies, brought you closer to the intimacy you craved, the intimacy you needed like you needed air to breathe.

“So,” you started, focusing again on the physical body underneath you, “was it okay?” He was quiet for a second before his body began to shake. At first you thought he was crying, but when you looked up at him, you saw his blinding smile had returned and he wasn’t crying. He was laughing.

“Babe,” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, “it was perfect.” You rolled on top of him, still fully clothed, and snaked up his body, getting even with his face. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, another to his neck, and then a final one to his mouth, you brought your lips to his ear and whispered, “I’m glad you’re back.”

Shawn’s answering shiver was a preview of what would surely be a sleepless night.

* * * * * * * * * *

In a small studio apartment off campus, far from Shawn’s mind, Molly Parker, student reporter and aspiring gossip columnist, was putting the finishing touches on her feature story. She thought it was, to use a reporting colloquialism, quite juicy. It was sure to cause a stir, especially with the football groupie crowd.

She made her final edits and typed her byline, always the last thing she did before turning in a story. The cursor blinked after her name sitting pretty beneath a headline she was congratulating herself for:

ANATOMY OF A POSTER BOY:

Shawn Mendes talks family, his future, and a secret girlfriend?

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