You looked around the room, nodding to yourself in reassurance that you'd packed everything you needed. Bedding, clothes, hygienic items. Anything you'd require for the next eight months.

Shawn had texted you saying he was on his way about half an hour prior, and you counted your lucky stars that neither of your parents would be home to see you off or worse: meet your new roommate. Tyler had also received a lengthy voicemail after your little coffee date. You ripped into him for not warning you beforehand, but then apologized for freaking out because the circumstances truly couldn't have been better. You had a place to live, it was in a great location, you wouldn't go broke, you wouldn't be lonely, and you'd have some eye candy. Although, being eye candy wasn't even his best trait.

Over the last few days, you and Shawn had been texting back and forth getting to know one another and trying to adapt to each other's lifestyles. It turned out that he was actually unapologetically hilarious, intellectual, and probably the wisest nineteen-year-old you'd met besides yourself. Hell, you were more excited to become friends than check out his butt in a bath towel.

You carried your duffel bags down the winding staircase, only momentarily struggling with the one containing your textbooks. It also turned out that you wouldn't need to transport dressers or a mattress because Shawn had all that, so you really didn't need him coming over with his Jeep, eager to help you move. But he insisted. And he was really into it.

He turned up in full athletic gear, rocking a tight black Under Armour tee with some not-short-enough Nike shorts. What really killed you was the hat, though. He wore a black Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap as he hopped out of his Jeep and speed-walked to the front door.

"Hey, dad," you joked, motioning to his getup. He sighed with a smile, peeling the hat from his head and turning it backwards.

"Better?" he raised an eyebrow, a lock of hair peeking out from the gap between the hat and the adjustable strap.

"Surprised you didn't show up with a U-Haul," you smirked, "you're really into this."

"Come on," he smiled, stepping into your house without asking, "its moving day! Be excited with me!" he grinned, leaning toward you and grabbing your shoulders to give them a shake. You instantly started laughing, hiding the fact that you were blushing a little by turning to shut the door behind you.

"Is this it?" he called from the bottom of the stairs, already slinging an Adidas gym bag over his shoulder to bring out to the car.

"Yeah, I really don't have much. This is why I was gonna just meet you there," you giggled, eyeing his muscular calves as he maneuvered around the bags to pick up a backpack.

"No need," he spoke, slinging the bag over his other shoulder. "This is a team effort," he smiled widely, walking past you to carry the bags out to his car. You shook your head with a laugh, briefly mind-boggled at his enthusiasm, charm and kindness. He was a total goof, and it was everything you'd ever wanted in someone you had to live with. He came clambering in, tripping over his toes before catching himself and smiling up at you with a flush crossing his cheeks. You pretended not to have seen it, but you both knew that you had.

"The fuck's in this? Bricks?" he asked, lifting a black bag from the middle of the small pile.

"Oh, that one?" you responded, trying to remember. "It's got my speakers in it."

"You're uh, you're bringing your speakers?" he put the bag down and brought a hand up to scratch the back of his sweaty neck.

"Yeah," you nodded, "they're like, really good. I uh, I figured I needed them." He grinned, looking around uncomfortably.

"You, you realize I probably have a decent enough sound system, right?" he asked quietly, still failing to fully look at you.

Shit. It made total sense. The guy was a fucking recording artist, for heaven's sake. Of course he had a killer stereo.

"Oh my god," you spoke, your forehead falling into the palm of your hand. "I totally forgot. Yeah, we can leave that one," you laughed, turning red.

"It's okay," he giggled, picking up a different bag. "It's nice that you can forget, actually. We're gonna get along." You shook your head, realizing it was pretty dumb of you to try to explain to Shawn Mendes that you had a good sound system. Fuck, his was probably top-of-the-line.

"So, are there like, a bunch of guitars you think you should bring too?" he asked, entering the house again, "Because I can assure you, you won't need them." You reached out and gave his shoulder a shove, heading into the kitchen to whip up a quick lunch.

"Turkey sandwich?" you called out to the foyer, laughing when you saw Shawn pop his head out from behind the doorway with an eager nod. Someone was hungry. He transferred all your bags out to his car before joining you in the kitchen, pulling up a bar stool to have a seat.

"Water? Ginger ale?" you asked, opening up the fridge to look at its contents.

"Water's fine," he smiled, pulling one of the sandwiches on his direction. "This one mine?"

"Whichever you want," you laughed, handing him a water bottle. "They're both the same."

"Should we head over now?" you asked as he finished gobbling down his sandwich, earning a nod from him as you took his plate to place in the dishwasher. He reached for his keys and climbed off the stool, straightening out his shirt and tugging his socks up.

"Have you ever thought about pushing them down?" you asked, motioning to his socks.

"You think?" his forehead crinkled as he pushed them down his ankles.

"Shawn, they're basically knee-highs," you giggled, "you've got them tugged all the way up."

"Knew I agreed to this for a reason," he winked, pushing the other sock down and heading for the front door. You grabbed your purse and keys, locking up behind the two of you as you each walked to your cars.

"So, uh, you can follow me, I guess," he squinted in the sunlight as he stood in front of his black Jeep.

"Sounds good," you grinned, "don't crash."

"I'm not dyin' on you, no need to worry," he smiled, walking around to the driver's side of his car.

"No, it's because you have my stuff," you shot back, opening up your truck door, "Safe travels!" you called, closing the door behind you. He smirked and rolled his eyes, climbing into his own drivers seat as you waited for him to move so you could back out of the driveway.

Fuck, was he ever considerate. He didn't speed too much and only changed lanes when there was space for you to, too. He even pulled over when some guy in a sedan weaselled between your cars, making sure you were following him the entire time. After about forty-five minutes of stressful highway driving and some city traffic, you followed him into a parking garage and drove down to the third level. He had two spots, thankfully, so you were able to park beside him permanently. He gave you a nod through the window as he shut the car off, causing you to giggle as you put yours in park. You hopped out at the same time, heading to the hatch of the Jeep to retrieve your things.

"Tyler's coming over in ten," Shawn spoke, feeling the weight of the bags to give you the lightest one, "I think he wants to help you settle in."

"Oh, okay," you smiled, watching the way his bicep shifted when he lifted the bag of textbooks.

"I'm up on the fourteenth floor," he sighed, closing the hatch and retrieving his keycard to let him into the building, "So this might take a while. But you've got my help."

"I really appreciate it," you spoke softly, failing to meet his gaze because it seemed a bit awkward. It was kind of intimate, moving in with him and thanking him so sincerely. Especially considering you didn't know him very well.

"Of course," he gave a tight-lipped smile, allowing you to enter the elevator first.

"Weird, eh?" you spoke, waiting for the elevator to climb.

"Mm?" he looked at you, eyes falling to your lips.

"That the first time I'm seeing your place is when I'm moving in," you grinned, earning a laugh from him.

"You said you were okay with it!" he chuckled.

"I am!" you replied, laughing, "It's just crazy. Hope you're gonna watch The Bachelorette with me on Monday nights." He kept giggling until the elevator reached his floor. He stepped out to lead the way, taking you to the door at the very end of the hall. He fumbled with the key, unlocking the door after a few long seconds and pushing it open, revealing a spacious, well-lit condo. It consisted of a few large rooms and three bedrooms, one of which was Shawn's and another was yours. He let you have your pick but assumed you'd be in the second largest, which happened to be directly across the hall from his.

"You can take these into your room," he motioned to the bags on the floor, "I'm gonna go down and grab another load."

"Alrighty," you smiled, giggling at his grabby wave before bringing in each of the bags. A light knock was coming from the front door, instantly making you feel weird. You lived here now, and it was time you opened the door. You had the right. You swung it open to reveal Tyler carrying a chocolate cake that read "Welcome Home" in blue icing.

"Room service?" you asked with a grin, accepting the cake and placing it on the kitchen counter.

"More like housewarming," he rolled his eyes, "So? How's it going with Mr. Perfect?"

"Well, actually," you responded, "we're becoming really good friends. He makes me laugh."

Tyler's jaw dropped as he placed his hands on his hips, ducking his head to meet your gaze. "You're kidding. Seriously? You're not trying to get a piece of that?" he asked with his eyebrows raised.

"What? No," you started, pausing to think, "I mean, yeah, he's handsome. But I have to live with him. He's my roommate and hopefully friend. No more, no less."

"Huh," Tyler spoke, digging into his cheek with his tongue. "We'll see how long that lasts."

"How long what lasts?" asked Shawn, who had silently entered the room with three of your bags.

"Ehm, the cake!" you squealed, covering your tracks and motioning to the box on the counter.

"Oh," he nodded, "Not long out on the counter. Maybe toss it in the fridge?" he spoke, embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

"R-right," you nodded, turning on your heel to put the cake in the refrigerator.

"I think these are all clothes," Shawn spoke, putting the bags on the floor and placing the last duffel on top of it, noticing it had come unzipped.

"Oh, um, hm," he stuttered, unable to peel his eyes from the contents of the bag as you leaned over the counter, thinking about what must be in there.

"Take a picture, Mendes," Tyler stated, walking over to the bag and pulling out a black lace thong and matching bralette, "It'll last longer," he smiled. Shawn's cheeks turned bright crimson as he looked from the lingerie set to Tyler to you, and quickly excused himself to get more stuff from the car.

"You're sure there's no sexual tension?" Tyler laughed as the door closed, stuffing the items back in the bag and picking it up.

"I don't really know," you giggled, cheeks still hot from the previous incident, "Even if there is, we can't. We're roommates. It would be so messy," you trailed off, following him into your room with the other two totes.

"Messy, like, clothes-everywhere-because-you've-been-fucking, messy?" he teased, earning a playful scoff from you.

"Would you stop? You're the one who organized this," you shoved his shoulder, dropping the bags in the corner.

Shawn soon entered the room with two more bags, placing them carefully on the floor in front of him. "I think that's the last of it," he smiled, placing his large hands on his hips, "you live here now."

"And they were roommates!" Tyler squealed, looking between the two of you for the correct response.

You looked at Shawn, unsure if he knew what Tyler was expecting to hear. As if on cue, you both replied, "Oh my God, they were roommates." The three of you broke out into a fit of laughter and eye rolls, exiting the room and going back into the kitchen.

"God, I miss vine," Tyler spoke.

"I don't," Shawn laughed.

"Ehh, it was okay," you spoke, looking over at Shawn, "that Mendes kid was really fucking annoying." You all lightly giggled, interrupted by Tyler.

"Okay, I've gotta go. I only stopped in to bring you the cake," he opened his arms for a hug and you stepped toward him, accepting the embrace.

"Thanks, man," Shawn nudged his shoulder, opening the door for him to walk out.

"Keep me posted, guys," he grinned with a wave from the hall, "and call me if he tries to kill you in your sleep," he laughed, to which Shawn shook his head.

"Thank you, again," you said, Shawn smiling in response, "I'm gonna order Chinese, on me, okay?"

He reluctantly agreed, letting you know what he wanted and heading into his room to take a shower. You organized your clothes as you waited for the food, loading the empty drawers and sheeting the bed with your own stuff. Once the food had arrived, Shawn came out of his room in a pair of loose-fitting grey sweats and a white t-shirt. You tried not to look, but you could definitely see the outline of his package with each step he took. Hot damn.

"Beer?" he asked, heading over to the fridge and pulling two Molson Canadians from the shelf. He passed one to you, indicating to you to hold onto it for a second so he could twist the cap off for you.

"A roommate and a bottle opener?" you gasped, "I really lucked out with this one."

"Very funny," he smirked, his wet hair spiky on the top of his head. "Are we bringing the containers to the couch or using plates like civilized people?"

"I'm thinking containers," you nodded, grabbing two forks from what you were hoping would be the cutlery drawer. It was.

"Knew I chose you for a reason," he smirked, bumping your hip with his before carrying the paper bags to the coffee table.

"Scary movie?" you asked, settling on the right side of the white couch as Shawn took purchase on the left.

"I was thinking a funny movie," Shawn spoke, reaching for the remote.

"How about a scary movie that's so bad it's funny?" you questioned, watching Shawn's lips curve into a smile as he nodded.

You took turns exchanging containers of food as the movie played, Shawn getting up to pee while you retrieved two more beers from the fridge. Though it had only been a couple of hours, it seemed to be working. This was working. Shawn made comments throughout the film, noting things in the wrong place and bad acting and holes in the script. You pointed things out to each other, roasting all the scenes and laughing together. Before anything remotely scary happened, the credits were rolling and Shawn's eyelids were heavy. You got up to clean the mess, placing the garbage back in the bags and taking it to the kitchen. Shawn followed, placing the dirty forks in the sink with an exhale.

"You know, you're really cool," he breathed, looking at you with a serious expression.

"W-what?" you giggled, unable to comfortably accept a compliment.

"I'm happy," he grinned lazily, "I'm happy you're here. I think this'll be good. I'm sure we have a lot of learning to do, but it's gonna work."

"Uh, yeah," you smiled, meeting his twinkly gaze as his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Mhm," he nodded, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"Okay," you nodded back, unsure of what to say. You both started laughing at the awkwardness of the situation, Shawn pausing to yawn.

"Bedtime for you," you spoke, patting your wrist where a watch would usually be.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he grinned, flipping off the kitchen light fixture. "See you tomorrow?"

"Technically it's past midnight, so I'll see you later," you nodded.

"Okay," he beamed, patting your arm before walking to his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

You grinned the whole way to your room, relieved that it wasn't weird or awkward or tense. You were buddies. Friends. Roommates. And a part of you hoped it would stayed that way, but another part of you really hoped it wouldn't.