in my blood
in this room, part four
word count: 2.5k
go to my masterlist to read previous parts!
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Chris knocks at the door and speaks through the wood, “Good morning, sleepyhead! Today’s the day! I’m getting married! And I need your ass to get out of bed and get ready. Don’t want to be late!”
He groans at Chris and pulls the covers over his head. “Two more minutes, man. It’s so early,” he mumble yells from the security of his spot in the guest bed.
“Nope, you’re already late to get up! Where’s that Canadian cheer, man?”
“Like me, it’s not ready yet,” he says rolling out of the bed, roughing up his hair.
“Okay, Shawn. It takes about an hour to drive from Lake Lure to Asheville, so you’ve got like 30 minutes. Please get ready fast.”
He can hear Chris’ feet slap down the hallway. He gets up and looks at himself in the full length mirror across the guest room. Grabbing his toothbrush and face wash, he heads down the hallway to the bathroom. He closes the door quietly behind him and begins his morning routine, thinking of the process of the wedding and all the things he had to remember before he and the boys leave for the church which is an hour away. As he brushes his teeth, he remembers the rehearsal from the night before. It hits him for the first time that he was partnered to walk her down the aisle.
His mind races with the memories of their past and how she treated him yesterday:
“You look good, Shawn,” she whispers into his ear, linking her arm through his.
“So do you, Mags,” he whispers. She still has on the purple scarf she found at the boutique a couple weeks earlier, even though it was warm inside the church.
She grasps his arm tighter, feeling his muscles between her fingers. “I’d rather be putting these strong arms of yours to a better use than walking down this aisle right now.”
His heart quickens and he tries to focus at walking down the aisle at the same speed. “Don’t talk to me like that. Especially here. You obviously haven’t changed your mind. I want something more than just sex, you know that.”
“But don’t deny that you’re thinking the same thing. I know how bad you want me.”
Their friends were whooping and hollering at them walking down the aisle together. ‘I think I know who’s getting married next!’ ‘Don’t forget to catch the bouquet at the reception, Mags!’ ‘Of course she’s the lucky one who gets to walk with him.’
He could feel all the eyes on them as they reached the altar and split. As he turned back towards the entrance of the church from his position, he looked at the people around him and found his belief to be true. Not a person in the chapel wasn’t looking at him. All these people, who don’t know him personally, around him, looking at him. Judging him based on his behavior with her. His breath quickens and he attempts to loosen his collar. No matter how much tension he creates between his fingers and the top of the shirt, he still feels like he can’t breathe.
He rinses his toothbrush off under the water and puts it on the countertop. He notices his rapid heart beat again. His breathing is out of control. He stands at the sink shirtless, but he still tries to pull at the invisible collar that he feels strangling him. The bathroom begins to feel smaller and smaller. The walls around him seem to cave in and squeeze him. His knees start to shake and he finds himself stumbling, hitting his back against the wall behind him. He lets his weight fall to the ground, breathing heavy and heart racing. The towel behind him slides off of the rack and into his lap. Hands shaking, he places it on the floor next to him and lays on top of it.
His whole body convulses as the thought of him walking down the aisle with her arm linked in his. The eyes. The whispers. The possible posts on social media after the ceremony. The media blowing the situation out of proportion. The possibility of her being linked to a past article written about him and dating speculations beginning. His body continues to shake until he is numb. Tears streaming down his face. No feeling of the pain from the shaking. No feeling of emotions. No tangibility to the experience yesterday. I should give up. Let myself lay here for eternity. But today’s not that day. There will never be a day where I let myself get past this point.
“Shawn, you ready?” DeVeon knocks at the door. “We gotta go, man.”
He takes the corner of the towel and tugs it out from under him. He clears his throat and tries to muster the confidence to get a few words out. “Yeah, one minute,” he chokes out.
“Okay. We’re doing a round of shots before we go. Hurry up!”
He perks up at the word “shots.” If there’s something he desperately needs right now, it’s a drink. He picks himself off the ground and takes a glimpse at himself in the mirror. His face is red. Tear tracks line his cheeks and the sides of his eyes. Embarrassed at his appearance, he forces himself to keep count of his breaths. His wobbly hands fix stray strands of hair. He turns on the faucet and splashes water on his face to cool down. He takes the hand towel on the counter and dries his face with it, making sure to press down hard so he has something to blame the redness of his face on. He practices saying hello in the mirror, making sure his words come out normally and clearly, not garbled up and crackly. Grabbing the undershirt from the other side of the counter, he slips it over his head taking a deep breath. “You got this,” he says to himself in the mirror.
He opens the door and walks into the living room. “Hey!” he says cheerfully. “We’re doing shots?”
Chris pats him on the back and guides him to the island of the kitchen where the rest of the groomsmen are standing. “I know you’re not legal in America yet, but you are legal in Canada and you’re one of the boys. It’s a special day, bro.” Chris reaches through the crowd and passes him a glass.
“Is it strong?” he asks.
“Of course,” Chris replies. Chris taps the edge of the shot glass against his.
Chris’ brother, Declan, stands on top of a stool and shouts, “To Chris! May your marriage be long and the sex be outstanding.”
A collective “To Chris!” follows with the group slamming back their drinks. He shakes his head, letting the alcohol seep into his body.
“Let’s get this man married!” Declan calls out, the men all cheering their way out of Chris’ house and into the limo.
---
The wedding ceremony went smoothly. He distracted himself from the whispers and phones pointing at him by keeping his eyes trained on the altar in front of him. He tells himself to keep a slight smile on his face to deter odd stares from the audience.
“Are you okay?” she whispers. “You’re kinda stiff.”
He glances down at her, “Yeah. Just trying not to screw up.”
She smiles and nods at him.
He remembers to wait for her at the end of the altar for the recession. She slips her hand through his arm once more and they begin their walk down to the outside of the church. Once they reach the outside, they quickly pile in with the newlyweds in their limo. He helps her with her dress and holds her bouquet as she ducks into the small door frame.
Shutters of cameras across the street echo against the back of the building. Their snaps mix with the various shouts of his name from the fans wearing his merch. The paps began calling out questions for him to answer and he only hoped for her to get in the limo faster than she already was. Who’s the lucky lady you’re helping in the limo? Are you two dating? When is your next album coming out? Have you slept with her before? His heart begins to race again, but just as his collar gets tight, he sees her heel slip into the darkness of the limo. He ducks down and loads himself in, closing the door behind him. The wedding party is already passing flutes of champagne to each other.
He sits and unbuttons his black blazer. He takes a flute from one of the bridesmaids. “Sorry for the crowd outside.”
Tracy shakes her head and says, “No worries! It’s actually kind of fun! Maybe they got some pictures of my and Chris walking out!” She sets the glass down on the drink holder besides her. She looks over at her now-husband, who’s shouting across the limo to Max. Tracy leans over and whispers to you, “thank you so much for being part of our special day! I know you’re super busy and I know it means the world to Chris to have you here.”
“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Tracy grabs his hand and places a blush colored carnation petal from her bouquet in his open palm. “For safekeeping,” she whispers. “For when you find the right one.”
He smiles at her and tucks the petal in his pocket.
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The party arrives at the reception venue, a beautiful mountain side country club meeting house. Bare trees and budding February bushes surround the property. They remained outside for the picture segment of the reception, the girls shivering in their blush colored, spring-styled dresses.
“Want my jacket, Mags? You look pretty cold,” he asks.
“Please!”
He takes off his blazer and drapes it around her shoulders. A click of the camera shutter goes off. He looks up, taken aback.
“I like that!” the wedding photographer says. “Let’s have everyone do that. Cute group photo and then we’ll just have the bride and groom out here for the rest of the pictures.”
He lets out the breath he was holding in. The party gathers around with all the girls in the front with the men’s black blazers on. A few snaps later, the photographer dismisses the larger party.
As they walk back, she reaches into his coat pocket. “Your phone won’t stop buzzing, Shawn! Seem to be a busy man even on your day off.” She takes the phone outside of the inner coat pocket and shoves it into his hands.
He takes it abruptly and immediately begins scrolling through the notifications. At least three dozen from Twitter, hundreds of tags on Instagram posts and too many text messages and missed calls from his publicist. He opens up the messages from his publicist first:
Today, 2:26 pm
Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be at a wedding?!?
Look at this! (link to news article) Are you KIDDING ME?
Today, 2:27 pm
Call me ASAP
We need to get this under control!
You know what your job is and you know what my job is… why are you trying to make both of them harder?
His heart begins to race again as he taps on the article. The page loads instantly: Shawn Mendes and his VALENTINE? What to know about his new fling! He rolls his eyes as he tries to keep his hands still. He scrolls down to the bottom of the page to only find more articles like the one above in the recommended section: Valentine’s Day Wedding for Shawn and Mystery Wife!, 10 Facts You Need to Know About Shawn Mendes’ New Girlfriend, Magnolia Everett, Shawn’s Love Life…, Sneaky Shawn and…
He scrolls faster and faster through the headlines as his knees start to shake again. He quickly closes out of the article and pulls up Twitter. His timeline is filled with paparazzi pictures of them as they left the church. Hashtags with his name and the rumors of his marriage. His heartbeats faster by the second. He opens Instagram and searches through the posts he’s tagged in. All of them have some comment relating to this rumor or how good he looked.
By the time he reaches the doors of the reception, he’s pulling at his tie, trying to focus on his breath. She hands him the blazer back, so he can put it in the coat check room. His mind starts to wander down the rabbit hole of self conscious thoughts that always appear when a new rumor comes out about him. He shakily hands the man working behind the counter his coat and receives his number card.
Before entering the reception, he finds a chair to sit in by the foyer. He rests his head back, letting it droop over the top of the chair. He counted his breaths once again as he shakily lifted his phone to text his publicist back: Sorry. I forgot to tell you. I’m not gonna be by my phone a lot. Can we talk about this later?
A few deep breaths later, he reminds himself that it’s bad for him to be alone in this state of mind. He reminds himself to ask for help the next time he feels like this. After all, he doesn’t want to end up on the floor of this country club, everyone looking at him like a lunatic. He remembers that Chris and Tracy ordered an open bar for the reception, and like that, he walks briskly into the reception.
“Shawn! Take this!” the groomsmen are already passing him drinks. He can’t seem to finish them fast enough. Two beers and a glass of whiskey later, he’s on the dance floor, dancing terribly to the music playing over the speakers.
She comes over to him and runs her fingers up his spine. “Really tearing it up out here. I love how you move on the dancefloor.”
He quietly moans and turns to grab her waist, “You always think I look good, Mags. You always know how to get me there. I need somebody now.” He pushes her body close to his and begins dancing on her. She dances against him firmly, provoking his body to ignite with warmth and excitement.
She looks up at him with dilated pupils. She steps up on her tiptoes to whisper, “you wanna get out of here?” in his ear.
It doesn’t take much convincing, given both of their drunken states and late hour of the night. He nods his head and grabs her hand. Thankfully, Chris and Tracy were just leaving, so they wouldn’t miss anything exciting. He didn’t even think twice to look for cameras being pointed at him.
Chris hired a whole fleet of Ubers, so no one would have to worry about driving and driving. They hop in the first Uber they see outside and he slips the driver a twenty dollar bill.
“To the Omni, please.”