Mr. Mendes | shawn mendes

twenty-seven.

a/n: a lovely reader suggested doing this chapter in shawn's pov, so, here you all go! ;)

chapter playlist:
shades - alexandra savior
woman - harry styles
now or never - halsey

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I couldn't help but pace back and forth, trying to control my shaking fists as we waited for a cab.

"Where did they go?" I asked Cher, trying to make it seem as if I was impatient for the taxi.

"I dunno. They're both adults; why does it matter?" She replied, stepping on the end of her cigarette.

"Yeah, man. Plus, you were a dick to Jules back there." Christian rolled his eyes, not looking up from his phone.

"Don't remind me." I grunted, frustrated that she was with John.

She wasn't supposed to be with John. I knew just how he was. Although he and I were best friends, he had always treated women so badly.

He was a womanizer.

Julianna deserved better than that. Better than him.

"Can you stop your damn pacing?" Brayden groaned, looking over at me. "You're making me anxious."

My phone buzzed, John's name flashing on the screen as I quickly typed my passcode in before reading the text he had sent to our group.

Getting lucky tonight ;) Get home safe lads!!

I could feel my blood boil slightly as the taxi pulled up, and I shoved thirty dollars into Brayden's hand while I yanked the door open.

"Next taxi you guys can have on me. I need to go somewhere." I spoke quickly, sliding into the cab before slamming the door closed. "Hilton on Times Square, please. I'll give you fifty damn extra bucks if you make it there in less than ten minutes."

I had to make it there soon; I had to stop them somehow before they could do anything.

The thought of her with John, with anyone else, made my stomach churn uncomfortably. I couldn't stand the idea of her being with someone else, especially someone who had clear intentions to touch her.

Her body was so pure and innocent; her mouth and mind the complete opposite. She reacted to each touch so beautifully, making it clear she had never had anyone before, but the words she spoke made it seem as if she had done it so many times.

"Faster, please." My voice strained, my leg bouncing up and down as I realized we could be there in about five minutes.

"There's traffic, kid. It's Saturday night and this is New York City." The older man huffed, shaking his head as we slowly began to move.

I regretted leaving her that morning more than anything. I played that moment over and over again in my thoughts. She was all I constantly thought about.

Fed up, I pulled a fifty from my wallet, tossing it into the passenger's seat once we had stopped again, before opening the door. "Thanks anyways!"

I realized I could get to her hotel in about two minutes if I really ran, so that's exactly what I did. I began to sprint down Times Square, ignoring the stares of everyone I passed, trying my hardest not to bump into anyone until the hotel finally came into view.