ShawnMendes entered Wattpad.

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"I've heard that he's here!"

"Who?" I stare at Layla, and the bright grin that has appeared on her face. "Shawn Mendes!"

"What?!" My mouth is standing open, and the second I am realizing it I shut it. I only open it again when I say: "Did you say, Shawn Mendes is here, on the party?!"
What the fuck is he doing here?! In ENGLAND?! I mean it's not like we're at a party at the label's main-building in Toronto. It's a more or less little party in London, England - my gosh, it's on a whole other continent than where Shawn's living and working! And as far as I am informed he's at the moment still touring through Canada, maybe in the US either. I don't know.
But what I know is: He should NOT be here, in London.

"Yes, I did", Lalya nods smiling happily. "Shawn Mendes! My gosh, what a luck! I can't believe, he's here! I mean not that we would've lots of chances to speak to him, but even being in the same room as this great singer!" She looks like she wants to cry (out of happiness of course), and I'm very sure, that I look kinda the same (definitly not out of happiness). To be honest, I am looking right now more out for a way to flee. Kinda an excit, where I won't meet anyone on my way out. My head goes left to right and back, probably kinda hectically, and Eric who stopps by shouts through the music to Layla: "What's up with her?"

"Shawn fucking Peter Raul Mendes is here in the room!", she shouts back, and I can see, how Erics eyes widen. "Wait, what?! Are you sure?!"

"I am, absolutly. I saw his manager on the floor talking to someone, saying, that 'Shawn' would be there any minute."

My face must be as white as the walls. "Guys, I think... I think I've gotta go now."

"What?!" They're both staring at me. I nod and try to hide my shaking hands. "I just remembered, that I've got a lot to do for university. Have kinda ... forgotten things. At home."

"Things. At home." Layla repeats raising an eyebrow. I nod. I'm almost on my way out, when she's kinda realizing something. "Oh my gosh, you have a thing for Shawn Mendes!!"

"Absolutly not!" I bite my lip. "It's just ... that I don't want to stay any longer on this party."

"Because of him!"

"No, no. It's because of ... reasons. Reasons I can't explain at the moment."

"Reasons. Okay, I see." Layla grabs my arm and takes me to the side, giving Eric a warning look. He shrugs and decides apparently to give the dance floor another chance.

"So, tell me, what's happening right now here? What's up with the whole 'I don't have a thing for Shawn Mendes, but I gotta go right now when I hear only his name'?!" Layla scans me from top to toe. "Is it something else? Did somebody harass you or did you drink too much and you're too afraid to tell us?" She scans me again. "But no, you look sobber. So what is it then?"

I take a deep breath, than I say: "It's something ... somebody else. We kinda had ... a thing." My gosh, how hard is it please to describe Shawn's and mine relation-ship?! Now it definitly sounds like a gone love. Lalya does seem to think the same, cause she says: "Oh, an ex-lover?! Now I understand!"

"No, he's not an ...", I hush. I have no idea, how to clarify this situation but to get although out of it in general. Layla looks as she's thinking for a moment. Then she says: "Jealous."

"What?"

"You need to make him jealous. If you want him back or not: It will help you to gain more self-confidence!"

I stare at her and want to immediately shake my head when she's squeaking a bit. "Oh my gosh!! There he is!!" She looks in awe at the doors, and I follow her gaze. I'm too late to excit without any recognization.
A young man with light brown a bit messy hair, trained chest and arms and a tattoo of a flying bird on his hand entered the room. He's wearing a simple T-Shirt and a blue-washed-out-Jeans. When he runs his fingers through his hair, I can see several rings on both of his hands. And I can also see the starving "Ohhhh", every woman in the room makes, staring at this gesture and getting dreamy.
I also see the whole crowd following him, the women and men all swarming around him and a man that I know is Shawn's manager Andrew Gertler (the man we've talked about in the car earlier). They all seem to talk to him over the music, and I have no idea, what they're saying, but I can see Shawn's face, and it's not that happy at all.
I've seen him looking happy – when he's smelling his mum's fresh baked muffins, or when he's making music. And that looked absolutly different to his face right now.

"Hey, do you wanna go over there? You could try to make this guy jealous with him!"

I am turning from absolutly frozen to being on the run again. "With who?"

"Shawn Mendes!"

Look, I don't know Layla for very long, but I always thought, she wasn't the type for crazy ideas. I thought more of her as a solid, kinda rational person that liked happy socks as much as I did, but would never come up with the idea to wear two different ones together.
Now, I have to revise my opinion about her. "Lalya, are you sure, you aren't drunk?"

She gives me a laughing gaze. "Well, then if that's a no, you should go seek another guy. Think of it as self-awareness! Don't let a dude hurt you."
She leaves the place we've been standing and gets herself on the way to the crowd that is still surrounding Shawn and his manager. I roll my eyes, but find myself a path to the dance-floor too – always looking out for not being seen by the attention's middle-center.