Page 48 of Sorry, We're Closed

My hands grip to his jumper as my bottom lip is massaged between his, and I'm convinced I feel a gentle moan escape Sawyer's mouth.

Fuck, I have never seen this side of Sawyer before, and it’s causing something hot and tense to stir within me.

I feel my core tighten as his hands trail down to my chest where they now rest, and his tongue traces against my bottom lip, and I gladly allow its entrance. He feels shy and reserved, his tongue only teasing against mine, and my mind swirls as to why today that he decides to kiss me in this manner. Was this his way of accepting us? Beginning to accept that this is who he is?

As he starts to ease, his body jumps and his lips quickly part from mine as an incessant ringing interrupts us – it’s Sawyer's alarm. Five thirty-nine. His hands leave my chest as he digs for his phone in his chocolate trousers and slides his thumb across the screen. His eyes look to mine once more as a forgiving smile and his scarlet cheeks fill his face.

“Avory. Thank you for everything—”

“Sawyer, thank you for listening. We'll figure this out, I promise. I don't mind cleaning some tables if it means my days are that much brighter.”

He smiles his beautiful smile and hides his laughter with his head down and into his chest. I don't need to hear him say that he wants to give us a try, his desire and feelings are becoming more and more obvious with each visit, and everything is reciprocated tenfold. As we collect our things, constantly exchanging glances at one another, Sawyer plants one last kiss on my lips as I lean against the fire exit door.

“I'll text you later, change my name on your phone to something else. I'll be back over soon.”

I slide my hand through his curls and to the back of his head. I pull him close and kiss his forehead, a delicious coconut scent filling my nostrils from his hair. Another mental note I can make of things that remind me of Sawyer – coconuts. Sawyer lingers in the doorway as I stroll away from the café once more.

I lose grip of the front door, causing it to slam and shake the wooden frame surrounding it. Marcus, whose feet are propped up on the sofa arm as he endlessly flicks through the loud daytime talk shows, jumps up and twists around with his eyebrows furrowing.

“Damn, who shit in your cornflakes this morning? You interrupted the blonde on the TV!”

I laugh with my hands up on either side of my body, and Marcus’ deep bellow overpowers mine as he pats the empty seat on the sofa. I throw myself over the back of the sofa and drop onto the cushion, causing Marcus to bounce slightly.

“Since you disturbed my channel flicking, you can carry on with the search for some crap TV.”

I roll my eyes as Marcus hops the remote onto my lap. I begin rhythmically pressing the rubber button over and over, multiple hosts of different talk shows in loud and shiny outfits flying past until a blast from the past music show appears. Clips of iconic rock bands and music videos play as two bearded men talk over them, describing their motives for music and the behind the scenes of it all.

I toss the remote onto the table as I sink into the sofa, yet my mind cannot focus on the screen. No, all that’s playing repeatedly is the way Sawyer kissed me in the café, and how relieving it felt to speak about my parents. I never tell anyone what happened, because no one ever sticks around long enough, especially with our lifestyle. Yet, Sawyer makes me feel grounded. Even if we leave today, I'd feel a tugging tether to Sawyer because he feels like safety, he feels like warmth, he feels like a comfort that I never realised I haven't felt in so long.

He makes me want to speak out about my past, which feels like a foreign language when passing my lips, but it feels right with him. How he manages that, I'll never understand, but all I know is that he is making me reconsider how I view mine and my father’s relationship – if we can even call it that.

Sawyer's parents, while I would never say it to his face, are utterly stupid for abandoning such an amazing person, and yet he strives and suffers heartbreak over and over, at any chance of acceptance from a woman who won't even look at him. A woman who clearly can't accept that maybe, the man who abandoned his family over an extremely bigoted view on his thirteen-year-old, is just that? An extremely, bigoted man who has now ruined an incredible man's chance of being his authentic self?

I’m lucky enough to have been raised by three incredible people; one of which has passed, one of which is trying his hardest to be better – or so I’m told – yet I never allow him the time of day, and the other is sitting next to me. My mind feels foggy with the amount of thinking I've been doing in this short amount of time, but it’s enough time for my head to collapse into the cushions and for my eyes to shut.

“Are you okay, bud? You're drifting off over there, didn't you get your daily coffee from your lover boy then?”

I throw a playful punch Marcus’ way which lands on his bicep as his bassy laugh fills the room. Marcus gets up, the weight of the sofa shifting, and I hear the click of the kettle. The clinking of a mug and twirling spoon alerts me as I rock my body forward, my head now in my hands as I push the hair in my face back.

“Marc?”

I rise to my feet and carry my heavy body to the kitchen island, sitting myself on one of the bar stools. My elbows balance my head up to meet Marcus’ dark eyes, as he nods for me to carry on speaking.

“I think—” I swallow yet it did not help to dampen my dry throat, making this all that harder to say out loud. “I think that one day, I’ll want to speak to my dad again.”

Marcus remains silent and his body tenses up. Worry takes over as I believe I’ve upset him, as if I’m telling him that I want my dad over him, but I know that no matter how any of this goes, I'm not leaving Marcus’ side.

I go to speak, I want to reassure Marcus, but instead his eyes tear up as he comes around the island and his bulging arms wrap around me.

“A, I will support you with whatever you decide. If this is what you want to do, one day, then we'll sort something out. Your dad has been trying his best to be the father you deserve, and I hope that you will see that with some time and patience.”

“Marcus, no matter what happens, you are all I'll ever need. I haven't thought about it fully, but I know that I want to speak to him somehow, eventually.”

Marcus pulls away but his hands rest on my shoulders with a gentle grip, his eyes damp and smile wide.

He stutters over his words until his voice leaves his lips in a higher, excited tone. “What made you have a change of heart, kiddo? If I'm honest with you, I never thought I'd hear you ask about all of this.”

A smile spreads over my now tear stained face, thinking about the one reason I have for a change of heart about any of this.

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