Speak Now | Shawn Mendes

0.7

As quickly as I can, I hop off the counter just as Shawn closes his eyes. Being a dancer, I would have expected to land on my feet. But instead, since I was flustered and nervous, my legs gave way and I found myself landing harshly on my knee. Shawn looked at the bottle of liquor in his hand, set it down, and then looked at me as I sat on the floor, propping myself up on my elbows.

"Shit, Christina, are you okay?" Shawn asks, his words slightly slurred. Good, he's drunk. Maybe he won't remember this ever happened come tomorrow morning.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." I say as I sloppily crawl backwards as Shawn looks at me. I stand up and lean against the counter for support. My knee was hurting and I blame myself for causing even the slightest injury to myself right before I was set to go onstage in a month.

"How bad does it hurt?" Shawn asks.
"Not that bad. Nothing an ice pack and physical therapy can't heal." I reply.

"Here." Shawn walks towards me and places his hands at my hips, lifts me up, and sits me down on the marble top island. He lets go and walks to the fridge, opens the freezer door, and takes out an ice pack with cartoon elephants as the design.

"Grace?" I reply. Shawn looks up at me with his warm amber eyes and smiles, nodding.

"Best part about dating a ballerina is she knows how to heal bones." Shawn replies.

"She taught you physical therapy?" I ask.

"Yeah. You wanna go to the couch? Or you wanna do this my way?"

"What's your way?" With a smirk, Shawn turns around and grabs the bottle of hard liquor and raises a brow.

"I think we're gonna have to do a mild combination of both." I reply.

"Smart choice." Shawn says. He hands me the bottle and the ice pack to hold and as I grab them, he places an arm around my back and an arm under my knees as he carries me over to the couch.

"I could have just walked." I say as he sets me down on the cushions.

"Aren't you making some return to the stage in a month?" He replies.

"Okay, you make a valid point."

Shawn chuckles lightly before grabbing the ice pack from my hands and resting it under my knee. He began to knead and rub at my knee while I took small sips of the harsh liquor.

"Grace kept starring at her hands the next day because I kissed them." He speaks. I furrow my brows and he looks up at me. "The story you said at the restaurant? I took her for a walk to talk about needing a dancer for a music video of mine. Our hands would touch by accident, and at the end of the night, I kissed her hands."

"What was it about her that made you want her in the video?" I ask him.

"I couldn't..." Shawn begins but stops himself. "Never mind. Where does it hurt on your knee? I feel like I'm not getting the right spot."

I grab his hand and place it on the part of my knee where it hurts and then lie back down on the couch. My eyes avert to another album of photographs that I didn't get to see earlier.

"Your photography is stunning." I tell him.
"Thank you." He replies with a smile.

"I don't think I've seen artwork that beautiful. It's been a while."
"Oh, they're not all that."

"Shawn, they're wonderful! I wish I had your eye for photography."
"Maybe one day I can teach you."

"Really?" I ask, sounding a bit too excited.
"Yeah. It's not that hard. Just find something that you think is beautiful and capture it in its own private moment." He replies.