Page 36 of Sorry, We're Closed

I catch Avory's reflection again as I finish his drink. She hasn't left yet, but I am not about to let Avory leave, either. I feel my pockets for any way to talk to him, and then my fingers brush against the pen and napkin from earlier. I pull them both onto the counter and begin to write, wrapping it around the cup and hoping he’ll read it before the ink smudges.

“No,you’refunny, because I've never seen you behind that counter before. Sawyer has always served me.”

I don't know what he’s trying to do, but he is fanning that familiar fire burning inside me. Why am I finding this so hot?

Mother scoffs again at Avory's comment as I stand next to her and pass over Avory's drink. Her mouth hangs open, and Avory winks at me. He’s treading on thin ice created by her wintry presence.

She shakes her head in disbelief as she grabs my arm, her nails digging into my skin. She pulls me close enough to smell the cigarettes that have stained her breath.

“I need this cash for some personal business. Don't do anything you'll regret.”

Her eyes glare over at Avory who has peeled the napkin off his cup and stares at it for a few moments before shoving it into his pocket.

Mother storms off, slamming the door once again behind her. I watch her as her boots rumble the streets beneath her.

Inhale, hold, exhale.

I check the time, half an hour before we close. I flip the sign over early. I can't stand here knowing that Avory is right there. I need to talk to him.

Sixteen

Avory

I came down to the café in the hopes of speaking to Sawyer about everything. That message took everything I thought we are and crushed it. Texting isn't going to cut it anymore, and the rushing, repetitive thoughts of our kiss isn't helping this internal tug I feel, leading me to Sawyer Sombre.

I’m not ready to give up on him this early, there is still so much to him and with the gigs flowing in night after night, I can't see us leaving any time soon.

Now, I wasn’t expecting to meet this woman who is clearly trying to pierce holes within my frame, judging from the way her eyes draw daggers. What is her problem? Sawyer doesn't speak to me once, and I assume the reason why is standing in front of me, which is why this note is stuck to my cup. This note gives me hope at least that Sawyer wants to talk, he wants to see me, and the feeling is mutual.

I sit myself down at the same table from before and watch from afar, the way she grips his arm with such tightness fuelling a protectiveness that I didn't even realise I have for Sawyer.

I sip this cup of deliciousness over and over but somehow this woman's presence, which I am slowly piecing together is Sawyer's mother with all the information I have been given, brings a gaping hole to the earthy and natural environment which Sawyer has created.

Sombre's Café reminds me of a forest with its natural green and oak tones blending together throughout the small space, yet this woman feels like the deforestation which destroys that same forest within a matter of minutes. It's a good thing that she left, and an even better thing that Sawyer closes up early.

I’m already halfway through my drink as Sawyer makes his way over to my table. He takes his time coming over, a sheepish step to his walk as his eyes lock to his feet. He peers over his shoulder continuously, his mind clearly worrying about something or someone else, and all I want to do is surround him in my arms and—No. Not until we've spoken.

He pulls himself up and onto the table and sits, his eyes flicking between his feet and the front windows. Silence radiates between us, the bash of Sawyer's foot on the table every so often bringing me back into the room rather than staring at all of Sawyer Sombre in front of me. We need to speak now, because these thoughts are driving me crazy.

“Hey you.”

His head twists to face me, those eyes turning me weak instantly. They have this natural glow to them, whether it’s the metallic tint of his glasses’ frames or the warm tone of his skin, something makes them shine like stars on a clear night's sky.

I feel this burning urge spreading over all of my limbs, my mind struggling to stop myself from standing up from this chair, wrapping his legs around my waist and feeling the same passion we had in the rain.

“Hey Avory.”

His lips curl slightly as he speaks, my name coming from his lips making it sound like it should be made out of velvet. So smooth, light, and delicate. I can't help but notice that his watching of the street outside becomes more and more frequent, frantic even. Sawyer displays the same emotions, the same breathing, the same anxieties as the day he ran out of the studio.

I lift myself onto my feet, now suddenly towering over Sawyer since he remains sat down. Without thinking – even if I’m trying my best to stop this from happening – my hand smooths over his cheek facing away from me, cupping it and pulling his gaze towards me.

I watch as his eyes close, he exhales, and did he just sink into my palm? Sawyer's entire demeanour changes from one touch, from a quivering pile of a man, to entirely relaxed and looking so serene. I could admire him until the sun comes up tomorrow.

“Avory, follow me.”

Sawyer's eyes blink open, and his hand reaches to meet mine, running his delicate and supple fingertips over the back of my hand and intertwining us together.

This sudden heat develops solely from his touch, it spread up my veins and through my chest, the soft bubbling turning into a boiling temperature which could become overwhelming anytime soon.

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