LOVEHATE

9

It was good to be home for winter break. The fall semester had been a strange one. School had gotten increasingly difficult, which was expected in a major like engineering. That wasn't what made the semester different, though.

It was Shawn Mendes.

I had a lot more time to think when I was home over the holidays, and I wasted far too many of my thoughts on him. I was trying to work out why this thing between us kept happening.

It wasn't hard to figure out why I wanted to have sex with him. He was gorgeous. That went without saying. He could exude sexuality with a sultry stare, a lick of his plump red lips, or by stroking his throat when he was talking. But then he could switch gears and give off a funny or sweet or even innocent vibe. Not that he directed those sides of himself to me very often. I'd caught glimpses when he interacted with others, though.

On top of those things, he was talented. No, I didn't mean musically. I had no idea if he was all that good at that because I still hadn't listened to much of his music. I was curious, but I was being intentionally stubborn. Part of me was afraid of liking it. If that happened, it might change how I felt about him. What if it made me like him? That was not an option. I just assumed he was pretty good if he'd made it as far as he had and left it at that. You don't become a global superstar just because of your floppy curls and adorable smile, right?

The talent I was referring to had to do with his performance in bed. And oh how talented he was. I hated him for it. I hated him for making me reach my peak over and over, and for him knowing each time I screamed his name that he was working magic on me. I couldn't stand that he got the satisfaction of having power over me.

I also hated that he made me much better, too. I wasn't terrible at sex before, but with him, I let go of any inhibitions I held and lost myself in the moment. It's not like he knew this, because I wasn't about to tell him that he had that affect on me. We rarely verbalized anything during sex other than the usual things one says in the heat of passion. If we started talking, we'd fight. We couldn't hold a simple conversation without it devolving into an argument.

So I knew why I wanted to fuck him. But that didn't really explain why I kept doing it. Shawn and I didn't like each other. At all. We brought out the worst in each other and never held back with our mutual animosity. Why did I keep going back to someone I hated? I was starting to worry about my psyche. What was wrong with me that I could feel such physical attraction for someone who pissed me off every time we were together?

There was another question that bounced around in my brain. Why did he want to fuck me? I was so far below him. Not that I was ugly. I knew from the attention men gave me that I was attractive. But I wasn't Shawn Mendes caliber attractive, if that made sense. There's regular pretty people and there are people like him. Obviously it was just about sex. He probably lowered his standards when it came to purely physical pleasure.

After a couple days of sitting around my family home eating way too many Christmas cookies and letting my parents spoil me, I decided to push Shawn out of my head. I wasn't going to see him again for months, so why dwell on him? No good could come of it.

The main reason I needed to stop focusing on Shawn was that it was making me neglect Anthony, my little brother. Because of his hearing loss, Anthony was often withdrawn. It was easy for me to sit on the couch overanalyzing my fucked up relationship with Mendes while my brother sat near me quietly reading a book on his Kindle. I hated that an asshole pop star was holding my interest when I could be spending time with the most incredible 9 year old in the world.

So one evening I cut him out of my thoughts the best I could and nudged Tony. He looked up at me.

Our parents were out at a Christmas party tonight, so it was just the two of us. We had a fire going in the gas fireplace, and the Christmas tree was all lit up across the room.

I signed to him, "Want to watch a movie?"

He nodded eagerly and handed me the remote. We scrolled through Netflix and decided on Christmas Vacation. I got the movie queued up but didn't start it. First I went to the kitchen and made some popcorn and grabbed us each a bottle of water. I sat back down and hit play. The subtitles were always on in our house, but I'd learned to ignore them.

We watched, snuggled together under a blanket, pausing occasionally to sign comments to each other. When it was done, I turned off the TV.

"Thanks for watching with me," Anthony signed. I immediately felt guilty for not doing more with him these first few days I'd been home.

"Thanks for picking the best movie," I replied. "And sorry I was out of it for a couple days. I've had things on my mind."

"You okay?" he asked, his brown eyes full of concern.

"It's just boy stuff," I told him truthfully.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

I shook my head.

"Do you have a crush?" he asked.

"I wouldn't call it that."

It's not like I could explain much of my relationship with Shawn to a 4th grader.

He looked at me thoughtfully. "Is this boy making you sad?"

I lifted my hands to sign a response but quickly let them drop back into my lap. I had no idea what to say.

Sad? Did Shawn make me sad? No. Quite honestly, when we were together in bed, I was blissfully happy. Even when we fought, he rarely hurt my feelings. Sometimes I liked the bickering.

"He doesn't make me sad," I signed. "But we're not right for each other."

"Then just stay away from him," he said.

"It's not that easy. I keep running into him. But he's gone for a while, which is good."

"Would I like him?"

I smiled. "You'd like him more than I do, I think."

"You're not making any sense, Sadie," he replied.

I wasn't planning to tell him who I was talking about, but on the spur of the moment I decided to.

"So this guy happens to be famous," I signed. "But you have to keep this a secret. Do not tell your friends or Mom and Dad."

"And you actually know him?"

Oh how I knew him. I knew him intimately. I knew what made him moan and what made him almost stop breathing. I pushed those thoughts from my head since my baby brother was right next to me.

"Yes."

Anthony scrunched up his face. "Would I know who he is?"

"Probably," I replied.

My brother couldn't listen to music, of course, but he watched TV and knew a fair amount about pop culture from reading things online.

"What's he do?" he signed.

"He's a singer. A pop star."

He gave it some thought. "Justin Bieber?"

"Ew. No."

"Someone from One Direction?"

"I wish!" I signed. I'd always had a little crush on Niall.

"Give me a hint," he asked.

I was kind of stumped. I really didn't know enough about Shawn the public figure to give clues that would make it clear who he was. Finally something came to me. I starting miming the action of sewing up an imaginary wound on my arm.

Tony watched and I saw it click. He jumped up and signed excitedly, "Stitches? Is it Shawn Mendes?"

I nodded.

"You know Shawn Mendes, but it's not a good thing?" he asked.

"I know him and sometimes it's a good thing, but mostly it's not."

Anthony looked me directly in the eye. "You deserve someone who is only good things to you."

And I knew he was right, but I didn't know if what was right was what I wanted.