"Chloe, sit!" you insisted, sighing at the hopelessness of training your dog. She was only starting to get the hang of it, but it had been two days since your first class and she should have been showing more progress by now.

Shaking your head and running your fingers against your scalp, you turned around to go upstairs and get ready for class, stopping dead in your tracks as something familiar caught your eye.

It was quick, but you saw it. A little tuft of brown curls passed by just outside, and you immediately recognized the hair as Shawn's, from puppy classes. Where did he even live, anyway?

You stepped closer to the window, attempting to see down the sidewalk, but you were unsuccessful. He'd picked up the pace, moving out of your line of vision within mere seconds, giving you barely enough time to process what was going on. You smirked, surprisingly not unsettled by the situation, and decided to continue with your life as if nothing had even happened.

That was until it became a regular occurrence.

Every morning at precisely seven forty-five, a beautiful husky pup would walk by your front door, followed by her even more beautiful owner. He wore sunglasses even though it was barely bright outside, allowing him to get away with eyeing your house. One morning he even stopped, appearing to be contemplating knocking. You wished he had.

It wasn't until the sixth day that you got up extra-early and pulled on some leggings and a sweater, slipping your runners on and putting your hair into a high ponytail. "Chloe, let's go!" you called, harnessing up your puppy and waiting by the window. It was primetime, and you could see Shawn and Geoff coming up the sidewalk. You ducked a little, waiting for him to pass so you could exit your house and catch up with him.

You let him get about twenty feet past your place before you jogged up behind him, moving quickly to catch up with his brisk strides. "Hey, stranger!" you called, slowing down a bit once you reached his vicinity.

He turned to face you, eyes widening a bit behind his shades as his cheeks turned a rosier shade of pink. Shocked by your boldness, he didn't seem to be able to say anything.

"Fancy seeing you here," you smirked, facing forward as you kept Chloe to your right side, preventing her leash from tangling with Geoff's. The air was crisp and you let out a little shudder, not yet warmed up from your little sprint.

"O-oh, um, hi!" he stuttered, a bit late, as if he were only now realizing that you had caught up to him. You raised an eyebrow, still expecting a response as to what he doing was in your neighbourhood.

"Yeah, I uh, I live a few minutes away," he huffed, tilting his head up at the morning sky. "I run every morning."

"Interesting, because I only started noticing you after you discovered where I live," you said smugly, noticing his crimson cheeks. He looked at the ground in search of something to say.

"Maybe you just weren't paying attention," he said, breaking into a smile and turning toward you, briefly meeting your gaze through his large shades.

"Classes tomorrow," you spoke, changing the subject. "You coming?"

"I'll be there," he laughed, motioning to his puppy. "She's been utter crap. Won't sit to save her own life."

"Same here," you giggled. "It's kind of hopeless, I'm praying we actually learn something this week."

"Maybe I'll learn your number," he said slyly, tapping you on the arm with his tattooed hand.

"In your dreams–uhh, wait, what's your last name?" you asked, giggling a bit.

"Why?" he asked in response, shaking his head and flashing a toothy smile.

"It's a nickname thing, I'm not calling you Shawn all the time," you said, slowing down as Chloe decided she wanted to pee on someone's front lawn.

"Mendes," he spoke, tilting his head a bit as his arms fell to his sides.

"Well, in your dreams, Mendes," you winked, causing a laugh to erupt in his chest. "So? You live somewhere around here," you spoke, waving your hands around like an idiot. "What do you like, do?"

He giggled again. "I'm a musician. I perform a bit, you know, in local bars, usually at the Horseshoe up on Queen," he trailed off, scratching his head with his free hand. Your heart twisted a little, the mention of the Horseshoe Tavern turning the gears in your head. Your ex-boyfriend, Greg, owned the bar, and that's why you didn't ever go anymore. No wonder you were only just meeting Shawn now.

"Oh, so like, in a band?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Yeah, something like that," he trailed off, shaking his head with a smile. "You?"

"I'm a student," you spoke. "Trying to like, learn, and stuff," you laughed, unsure if your inability to speak was due to being tired or because of how gorgeous he looked with the golden morning sunlight cascading across his face. "A lot of it's from home, that's why I can take care of this one," you motioned to Chloe, who was now sniffing Geoff's bum.

The two of you began walking again, a comfortable silence lingering between your bodies. After a few minutes of small talk and undeniable flirting, Shawn stopped walking and turned to face you.

"Well, uh, this is me," he spoke, motioning to the apartment building towering above you and pulling his keys from his pocket.

"Gotcha," you spoke, turning a bit to walk back toward where you'd come from.

"Umm, wait, don't go yet," he said, stepping a little closer to you and taking his sunglasses off. You met his chestnut eyes, noticing that one of them was a little lazy, but you kind of liked it. His rosy pink lips curved into a smile and his face lit up as he spoke. "I uh, I have a gig, tomorrow night, after our class. You should come. I mean, only if you want, if you want to."

"Me?" you asked, having a hard time believing Late Guy was asking you to see his band, or whatever it was.

"Who the fuck else would I be talking to?" he giggled, softly touching your clothed arm.

"Well, then yeah, I'd love to. We can leave the dogs at my place?"

"Sounds good. See you tomorrow," he spoke, turning toward the entrance of his complex.

"See you then, Mendes," you shot back, turning on your heel and walking back to your house.

You beamed as you stepped through your front door, excited about making progress with your hot new classmate. You kicked your shoes off and took Chloe out of her harness, climbing the stairs to go take a shower.

Scooping Chloe up under your arm, you were placing her at the foot of your bed when your phone started ringing, vibrating the little pocket of your leggings.

Displayed on the screen was a picture of your ex-boyfriend, the bar across the top reading "Greg." What the hell? This was the second time he'd come up today, and it wasn't even nine in the morning.

Sitting down and pulling Chloe into your lap, you swiped the screen and held the phone up to your ear.

"Uh, hello?" you asked, wondering what on earth he could be calling for.

"Hey, didn't know you started running in the morning," he breathed, the sound of a car door closing audible through the line.

"What?" you asked, stomach turning a bit.

"I saw you, with your new boyfriend. Was driving by," he spoke. "Seems to like you a lot, all touchy-feely and shit."

"Shut up, Greg. You can't just call me anymore. We broke up," you hissed, turning angry at her stalker-ish actions.

"Calm down, would you? I know Shawn. Nice guy, I let him perform at the bar a few nights a week," he paused, and you could visualize him smirking through the line. "Be a shame if he lost all his gigs," he spoke, deception evident in his voice.

"What the fuck are you getting at, Greg?" you asked, crossing your arms and growing weary.

"What I'm getting at, sweetheart, is if you're gonna keep seeing pretty boy Mendes, he can kiss his little setup goodbye," he spat.

"You wouldn't," you pleaded, anger and desperation lacing your voice.

"Oh, I would," he hung up, line going dead in your ear.