PERFECT [SHAWN MENDES] [1]

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE: PSYCHIATRIC HOTLINE

PERFECT
SIXTY FIVE- PSYCHIATRIC HOTLINE
"NEVER GONNA LET YOU GO, HUN."
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GUITAR STRINGS RANG OUT around Lauren's apartment loudly one morning. It was enough to wake the sleeping teenager, who was laying in her bedroom upstairs. A grumble escaped her lips at the loving, but obnoxious sound.

The blonde crawled out of bed with her phone, walking out of her room to the stairs tiredly. Looking down upon her lounge room, she found Shawn sitting with her guitar, Starbucks coffee and a bag of McDonald's. Her face lit up, but frowned upon seeing Shawn smirk up at her.

"Morning sleepy head," Shawn greeted.

"Hi," Lauren grumbled, walking down the stairs tiredly.

Shawn chuckled, watching her walk over to him. She grabbed her Starbucks coffee, and sat down on the couch across from where Shawn was sitting. Lauren sent him a glare as she sipped on her caramel mocha, her phone resting in her lap. Shawn placed her guitar down, walking over and sitting beside her.

"Come here grumpy bum," Shawn said.

The brunette pulled the blonde into his arms gently, letting her rest her head on his chest. Lauren smiled slightly, looking up at him. Shawn smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"How was your sleep?" Shawn asked.

"Great, until some asshole decided to play the guitar really loudly to wake me up," Lauren grumbled.

Shawn let out a laugh at the glare that was sent his way. "Aw, you love me. I know you do."

Lauren shook her head. "No I don't," She replied, placing her Starbucks cup onto the coffee table.

"Yes you do. Just admit that you love me," Shawn said.

Lauren grinned at him. "Never!"

"That's it."

Shana grabbed the blonde, and started tickling her. Lauren squirmed around on the couch, laughing like a maniac. She could escape his grasp, nor would he let her go as much as she shouted at him to do so.

"Shawn! L-Let me g-go!" Lauren shouted in between laughs.

"Never gonna let you go, hun."

Lauren sent a glare his way after the brunette sent her a cheeky smirk. Shawn watched as her eyebrows narrowed, and she was now giving him a dirty look. Shawn suddenly pulled away, feeling uncomfortable because of the look she sent him.

"That's right, you back down, Mendes," Lauren joked.

Shawn just let out a laugh. "Whatever Adams. Now, are you going to answer your phone or what?"

Lauren glanced down, noticing her iPhone in his grasp. It was vibrating in his hand, as it was set on silent all the time. She took it from his hands and answered it.

"New York's psychiatric hotline, Lauren speaking. If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly. If you are co-dependent, ask someone to press 2 for you. If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5, and 6. If you are paranoid, we know what you are and what you want. Stay on the line so we can trace your call. If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferred to the mother ship. If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a small voice will tell you which number to press. If you are a depressive, it doesn't matter which number you press, no one will answer. If you are dyslexic, press 6969696969696969. If you have a nervous disorder, please fidget with the pound key until a representative comes on the line.