ShawnMendes entered Wattpad.

20

"Jane, Jane Doe?!" We both turn immediately around. "Hey, there you are! So great to see you!"

We, Amy and I, both have apparently problems, to breath. This voice. This outfit - a little sweaty, a T-Shirt and a pullover over his shoulders, jeans and the same shoes as on stage.
The guy in front of me smiles, and shakes Amy's hand. She's completely frozen, so I have to nudge her, to react.
"Hi-hi-hi! Hi!"

"So, you are the girl, I am writing with all night and day?" Shawn Mendes is standing right there, in front of us, right in person, a bit breathless and smiling bright.
Wait. What?

"Oh, ahm", Amy looks at me quite shocked.
I don't know, why we both didn't thought about the possibility, that he wouldn't recognize me. I mean, it's not like I sent him a picture, but I really thought, he would feel this deep connection, we've had built up. We've even talked about it that much, that I really thought that.
And now, the moment, I'm standing in front of him, his sight went immediately to Amy.
And that's not a wonder.
I mean, it was predictable. He didn't even look really at me.
And in that second, I understand, that every castle in the air I may have built up, was just that. A castle in the air. A day dream.
Shawn Mendes was just like all the other guys. He'd never expected the girl he was writing with, to be a invisible-and curvy-and-brown-haired-Hermione to be.
It doesn't matter, how nice he seemed, when we were writing. It doesn't matter, that he said, I surely would look beautiful. Cause he didn't even look at me. It doesn't matter, that I never wrote so much and in such a deep way with someone. It just doesn't matter.
So the moment, I look to Amy, I give her an barely visible nod. And even though, she's extremely surprised, she also seems exuberantly happy. To be honest, she doesn't look like, she needed a permission. Probably, she would've answered what came next with and without my nod. And before I can think more about it, she smiles and says: "Yes, I am, we did write."
Wow. I guess, I could've just said things like "Y-yes. Yes, I am. I mean, yes, you did". But that's just Amy. She has had prepared a meeting with Shawn Mendes her half life. "I am Amy."

"Ahh, Amy! Very enchanté", he grins a bit brider, and she smiles back the same. "Finally, I know your name."

"Yeah, now, you do."
After a second of a really weird pause, Shawn says: "Cool." And Amy says: „Cool."

Shawn hems. "I must say, you look a little bit different, then I thought, but not slightly less sympathetic."
Wow, he said sympathetic, not pretty. He's really trying to be a nice boy à la it's not the outward-appearance, that counts. But I know, that it does count, and Amy knows it, and he knows it, too. Now, I should say something. Now, it would be my turn, to say something. But I don't know what. And my mouth doesn't open to say the words, I've prepared since I got the concert tickets from him.
I am just really too hurt by the fact, that he immediately thought, it was Amy, he was writing with, that I can't think of anything else at the moment.
And maybe, he didn't say, that Amy was looking amazing, but indirectly, he did. And he has had to be crazy, not to think that.
He may said, she would look sympathetic.
But even though Amy is absolutely stunning in her black dress with the shimmering pearls around her neck and her arms and the elegant shoes.
Her blonde, shimmering hair combined with her blue pale blue eyes make her look like a model.
I look down to my own shoes - my best old sneakers and colorful socks (the ones with the unicorns), and suddenly, I feel ridiculous.

"And you are?" Shawn looks at me with a polite smile. It's warm, but a somewhat less than the smile, he gave Amy.

"Mandy." I offer him my hand for a handshake, and he takes it for a second. I'm staring at his hand, can't believing, that this is the hand of the photo, that he'd sent me, that this is the boy, I wrote through nights, and that this is the boy, who did tell me, that he'd like my Songlyrics. I can't believe, that I'm shaking Shawn Mendes Hand. The hand of one of the greatest songwriters in decades.

"She's a bit shy", Amy grins, and Shawn laughs. "That's no problem, that's not unusual, I'm used to it."

"I'm not shy!", I say and look him directly in his eyes. Fantastic caramel-brown-eyes. Shit. I look down again. The next second, I look at him, I can see his confirmed smile, and I curse inner.

"So, how did you like the concert?" Shawn says to Amy and offers us a seat.