Page 22 of Sorry, We're Closed

Sawyer serves my usual in a tall glass and on an emerald saucer, the ice bobbing on the surface of this beige ocean, and I make my way to a hidden table.

The oak seats with built in cushions are surprisingly comfortable as I place my drink and pull my phone out of my pocket. I swipe it open, my background of Marcus and me before a gig flashing before my eyes as I tap the search bar, but my eyes aren’t on the keyboard anymore.

I find myself watching him. All he’s doing is wiping the counter down, back and forth, yet I can feel myself grinning from ear to ear. I don’t know what on earth he puts in these coffees but it’s like he has me under a goddamn spell. His wiping gets slower and slower, until he raises his head and I’ve been caught, except neither of us look away for a good few seconds.

The café is empty and the temptation to throw myself over the counter and feel his plump lips on mine, feel my hands under that jumper and on his frame, in his hair, on his face is becoming overwhelming. This instantaneous attraction is also utterly overwhelming.

I drag my eyes off of him reluctantly and back to the one thing I want to actually plan out – a new guitar for our new set.

The next hour passes quickly, no one else coming into the café and Sawyer begins cleaning down after flipping the door sign that reads ‘sorry, we’re closed’. His sweet tone steals my attention.

“Hey Avory, we’re closed for the evening so once you’re finished just let me know and I’ll unlock the door again.” He smiles that small smile once more and I feel a warmth grow all over.

“Which of these do you prefer?”

Sawyer turns back around, his eyes darting between myself, the table, the floor, the outside streets before hesitantly bringing himself closer, sitting himself on the table.

His clothes bunch up on his lap and around his hips and he just looks so gorgeous. It’s as if that counter creates this fog between us because everything about him here, right within my touch, is clearer than crystal.

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be but go on.” He raises his eyebrow as, clearly, his curiosity grows.

Mine does for you also, Sawyer Sombre.

I flip my phone to him and swipe through the screenshotted guitars. He asks with his eyes if he can take my phone and I nod back, his fingers grazing the back of my palm and his skin is so delicately soft, it nearly tickles.

“Is this for Bright Lights? Sorry, Gwen told me about you guys, and I assumed.”

“Yes, it is! Word’s already getting around, huh?”

He smiles and this time, his cheeks rise, and his teeth are on show. I am seriously going to melt away if he carries on like this.

“Who else is in Bright Lights? If you don’t mind me asking?”

His eyes meet mine as we speak and he swings his legs up, crossing them underneath himself. His shyness really does carry over past the counter. I tell him about Marcus and how the band formed, how we travel and how we ended up in Tetherton, and he listens intently. I don’t mention how I ended up with Marcus, though.

“How about you? How did you end up in the family café?”

Sawyer’s gaze averts away, his shoulders begin to rise to his ears and his throat tenses as he swallows. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Hey, don’t worry, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to?”

Instinctively, my hand reaches for his knee as I rub my thumb back and forth. His eyes dart to my hand, surprise briefly written over his face, but he doesn’t move me. Once the silence falls between us, I pull my hand back and keep it under the table.

“The mint green guitar is really nice, but I’m a fan of green though.” Sawyer signals to his outfit and the entire café before chuckling to himself slightly.

I’m right about his laugh, too.

“Sorted then! I’m ordering that one, thank you, Sawyer! I’ll finish this and drop it off on the counter, I won’t steal you for any longer.”

Sawyer goes to say something but instead nods and walks away, continuing with his close down. I drop the last part of my coffee into my mouth and grab the pen from my pocket. I whip a napkin from the condiment stand and begin my scribbling. I tuck it back under the glass enough that it’s pinned down but enough to be on show. He needs to see this.

I place it on the counter as Sawyer meets me at the front door, unlocking it for me. Standing next to him, I notice the slight bit of height I have on him. He would have to lean up ever so slightly to kiss—No, stop it, Avory.

“Thank you again, Sawyer! I left my glass on the counter. See you again soon?”

“Yeah, see you soon, Avory.”

If this works, I’ll hear from him before I see him next.

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