Page 34 of Sorry, We're Closed

I grip the corner of the fabric and launch it across the room, the cushion hitting Marcus square in the face. The cushion drops on the island and reveals Marcus’ exaggerated shocked expression as his hand clutches to his chest.

“This isn't over my boy; I will get to the bottom of this!”

Marcus and I release deep belly laughs as I make my way to my room. The door clicks behind me, and my hand is digging for my phone once again. I'm sure I’m feeling another vibration.

Sawyer:I'm already cooped up in my room and in bed, I'm fine!

My mind is swimming with ideas of what Sawyer's bedroom looks like; how he sleeps, what he sleeps in,ifhe sleeps in anything. This boy has turned me obsessive.

Avory:Already?! It's only just gone seven!

Sawyer:Ah, well it all ties into what I need to talk to you about.

With everything he keeps linking back to this ‘conversation that needs to be had’, I become more and more confused.

I follow in Sawyer's footsteps and begin to undress for bed. Everything is once again piling up in front of the mirror, and the joggers are on. I stand myself up in front of the mirror, and the temptation to pull out the camera on my phone and snap a photo of my figure for Sawyer grows.

I roll my eyes at myself and remind myself that this, whatever we are, isn't some hookup. This boy is something else. My phone goes again.

Shit, I never replied to his message.

I sit myself on the side of the bed as I unlock it with my thumb. It's a photo of him. He's lying in bed on his side, the duvet pulled right up to his nose and around his head. It seems like he's taken the photo on his side table or something, but that's the last thing I'm focusing on.

He's not wearing his glasses, so his freckles sparkle along his tanned skin as his forest eyes shine bright, just begging to be explored. I can’t stop staring at his untamed curls being pushed forward and the empty space behind him, and I can’t stop thinking about how much I'd kill to have my arms wrapped around him from behind and my body pressed against his.

I wouldn't mind being behind him for other reas— AVORY, STOP! Great, now I've got a problem which these joggers make very obvious.

I struggle with what to reply to Sawyer because I physically cannot put into words how beautiful he is and how he makes me feel.

Instead, I stand facing the mirror and twist my hips enough so the dark tent I've got pitched isn't noticeable. This causes me to snap a photo of my toned back and my head turned to face the mirror. It definitely isn't a bad photo, but I stop hesitating and hit send. Within moments, I receive three yellow faces with pink hearts for eyes. Another message pops up shortly after:

Sawyer:Huh, you definitely hide all of that under your baggy clothes!

I laugh to myself since he hasn't seen the front yet. Yet? I shake off the thoughts as another messages pings up on my screen.

Sawyer:Gwen, I can't do this! I can't lead him on, what if she finds out? I'm too fucked for him. I need to cut this off!

Well, that isn't meant for me.

Fifteen

Sawyer

Shit, shit, shit!

I never talk to anyone outside of the café except for Gwen, and as soon as one more number joins my contacts, the world once again sends its signal that everything about this is a bad idea.

A message meant for Gwen reaches out to Avory instead, and there is nothing I can do to fix this. I panicked, I saw our messages, I could feel what has been growing between us at a rapid rate, a rate which you'd only see in movies and books. I actually message Gwen this time, but instead it reads:

Sawyer:Gwen, I've really fucked up.

I swipe back to Avory, hoping I would see a chat bubble or something, but nothing, and I don't blame him. Maybe this is for the best. I can sit here and continue to tell myself that I can't do this, but my eyes are fixed to his sculpted back.

He isn't anything extreme, but you can easily see how he looks after himself. Seeing his muscles create those natural curves and arches descending into his joggers, I’m growing more and more desperate to explore him with my fingertips, my lips, my tongue.

These feelings alone are terrifying. I have never felt a desire for someone, let alone a fire in my core which is scaling in height and heat every time my eyes land on him. I want him, but my mind and this house and my mother and every single thing that has ever told me that it is not right, is rattling my ear drums and overwhelming every one of my senses.

I try my best to control my breathing, but I can feel the cool streams of tears rolling down my face, causing everything to heighten in intensity. My phone buzzes and I have never reached for it so fast, causing me to drop it to my bedroom floor.

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