Some Things Never Change [SHAWN MENDES]

December 28, 2013

"To Shawn!" Eric toasted as he raised a champagne flute. "He's officially been discovered and is on his way to great things!"

Everyone clinked their glasses together and echoed the congratulatory sentiment.

A lot had happened in the last month. Out of the blue, a guy named Andrew Gertler contacted me and said he was impressed with the covers I'd shared online. He used a bunch of terms in our first conversations like amazing potential, refreshing likability, raw talent, strong on-screen presence, and media marketability. He was an artist manager with his own agency, and my parents liked his honesty and that he seemed to care about me as a person. I was shocked that he'd even seen me, and the fact that he wanted to represent me blew my mind.

"Thanks, everyone," I said because all eyes were on me after the toast, "but we're here to celebrate Christmas together, not me. If I get a record deal, we'll have real reason to pop open a bottle or two."

"So humble," Lisa said as she placed a hand over her heart.

It really wasn't that; I was terrified of getting too excited at this point. A little voice in the back of my head kept saying that if I dared to think of where things could go, I'd jinx it.

We polished off the champagne while we ate an assortment of Portuguese appetizers. My favorite were dates rolled in bacon, and I had to hold back from eating the whole plate of them. We moved on to the soup and salad courses, so by the time my dad carved the roast chicken, we were all pretty full. This meant that we ate at a leisurely pace while enjoying the selection of wines the Burroughs had brought. Ceci and I were drinking, too, and I was definitely feeling the effects. She never drank, so I assumed she felt it even more than I did.

"Let's wait on dessert," my dad said, patting his full stomach.

"Good thinking. I'm going to go upstairs to check on Aaliyah," my mum said as she got up from the table.

My sister had been diagnosed with strep throat the day before, so she was quarantined in her bedroom. My parents brought food up to her on a tray, and Ceci and I had stood outside her room to chat with her before dinner started. She was sad to be missing the get-together, but she felt so ill that all she wanted to do was sleep.

Ceci and I cleared the table and stacked the dishes next to the sink. Then we went down to the basement, knowing it would probably be an hour or two before we got called up for sticky toffee pudding.

I plopped down on the couch, feeling the effects of my food coma and the wine.

Ceci sat next to me and rested her head against my arm. "Are you going to forget me when you're a superstar?" she asked.

"Never."

"Girls are going to be throwing themselves at you. You know that, right? You're going to have so many girlfriends that you could potentially forget your bestie. I need to just accept it," she said with an exaggerated sigh.

Girls were already throwing themselves at me in my DMs. Some told me exactly what they wanted to do to me, which was equal parts exciting and frightening. Mr. Gertler and I had a long talk about the importance of image, so it's not like I could take anyone up on their sexy offers. I'd never feel comfortable with that anyway. I had such little experience that I was bound to embarrass myself. What if some girl and I started something and the next day she tweeted that I didn't know how to kiss? I'd die of embarrassment.

"Hey, Ceci. Do you think someone can tell if you've ever made out before?"

"Are you worried that you're inexperienced?" she asked.

"Kinda."

"And you think that when the time comes, you'll get called out for being a novice?"

The way she read my mind was eerie sometimes. "Yeah."