Page 67 of Sorry, We're Closed

“Sawyer! Hold on!”

I scramble to lock the window again before running out the front door, down the stairs and having to catch myself from falling face first, and to the shop’s front door. As I fumble with the lock, his emerald eyes watch me from the other side of the door. A soft, relaxing smile sits on his face, and suddenly, my mind has never felt clearer. The twinkle of the door’s bell is quickly muted by the crashing rain against the growing puddles and the cobbled paths, but everything is background noise as he speaks.

“Hey you, can we talk?”

Instinctively, my hands reach for his waist and pull him into the shop, locking the door as a puddle begins to form underneath him. I couldn’t care less about his soaked clothes as I pull him towards me, my arms wrapping around him tight as if he will crumble if I don’t hold him together. His arms snake their way around my neck and in this moment, everything feels okay. His floral cologne, mixing with the natural smell of the rain which has drenched him, lingers in my nose, and everything feels okay. As if I could feel every individual swirl of his fingerprints through the thin fabric of my t-shirt and tattooing themselves onto my skin, everything feels more than okay.

As much as I relent, Sawyer pulls away and attempts to wipe his glasses clean of drips with his soaked sleeve.

“Sawyer, please come upstairs. We need to get you out of these clothes.”

As Sawyer’s eyes widen at my hasty comment, I stumble to correct myself. “I don’t want you to be sat in soaked clothes and to get sick, I mean!”

Sawyer laughs and a simmering fire begins to build in my core. There he is. My Sawyer, who hides behind his hands when he laughs, yet I wish he’d display his beautiful, toothy smile to the world because it pushes his cheeks up, causing delicate lines to form under his eyes.

I offer my hand out to Sawyer, because as much as I want to grab him, I still don’t know why he’s here. I think back to Gwen’s visit in the hopes it would help me to understand, but I can’t focus on anything as his fingers intertwine with mine, and the softness of his skin causes my breath to stick in my throat.

I guide Sawyer upstairs, only now realising that this is the first time Sawyer is seeing where we live, and quietly thanking Marcus and myself for cleaning as we’ve been packing. I lead Sawyer in, and his hand glides out of mine as he gazes around, slowly spinning around, his shoes clicking against the floorboards.

After taking in our small space, he turns to face me with a relaxed expression.

“Avory, I didn’t bring anything with me. I kind of legged it out of the flat once Gwen told me about what she did, I didn’t really think past seeing you.”

“You can wear my things, if that’s okay? But you can’t keep creating puddles whenever you stand somewhere,” I laugh as I stroll through to my room and begin to dig through the remaining clothes I have which aren’t packed.

I throw a pair of black, fabric shorts onto the bed, followed by a t-shirt and as I continue to dig for something to warm him up, Sawyer leans on the door frame, his arms held to his chest as he gazes around once again. I finally find the baggiest plain black hoodie I own, and I bring the now folded pile to Sawyer.

“Hey, if these are okay, then you can borrow these, and I can get your wet clothes on the radiators.”

Sawyer smiles again, so soft and easy, as he nods. I can’t help myself. My hands graze the sides of his neck, and my thumb rubs against his jaw. My eyes meet his and his lips part slightly, enough that I can feel his warm breath against my lips and it’s all too much, but in the best possible way. As I lean forward to finally press my lips against his again and to feel him soothe these racing thoughts, I feel us begin to replay a familiar scene. Two of Sawyer’s fingers rest on my lips, creating a wall between us. I pull away and my eyebrows furrow.

“I need to talk to you first,” he whispers, yet it doesn’t feel like he wants to wait as his fingers drop, opening the space between us once again and his eyes remain on my lips for seconds before accepting my pile of clothes.

I offer my room and the bathroom to Sawyer to freshen up as I sit on the sofa, my leg bouncing at a rapid rate. I begin chewing on my pinkie nail – I’ve never done that before. I immediately stop when black nail polish flakes on my tongue and I grimace at the taste before wiping my tongue on the closest tissue I could find. My mind races at what he could want to talk about, but I can’t imagine a worse ending to this than the last time I saw him, especially with Marcus’ offer still in the air.

My bedroom door creaks open, and I raise to my feet instantly as if I’m required to stand to attention. A specific part of me begins to as Sawyer emerges sheepishly, and I can’t help but take all of him in. My eyes trail from his trainer socks, up his legs dotted with freckles and lighter hair than I’d imagined, the hem of my hoodie which rests above his knees and hides most of the shorts underneath, and eventually my eyes land on everything I’m familiar with.

I swallow as I feel my skin growing hot, having to avert my eyes from him at moments when it all feels too much, yet I never thought someone’s beauty could be too much to handle.

Sawyer’s cheeks are the brightest I’ve ever seen them as he speaks. “Thank you for letting me borrow these. Is it weird if I say they are comforting to wear?”

“Do you mean comfortable?”

“No, comforting.Youare comforting, Avory.”

I feel my chest tighten at his words and I need to change the subject, but I also need to hear him out and I can’t stop myself.

“Um, Sawyer, do you want a hot drink? I really don’t want you to fall ill.”

Sawyer shakes his head and laughs quietly behind his sleeves, and I honestly think he’s trying to kill me at this point. Sawyer silently asks to sit on the sofa, and I nod as he plants himself in the same spot I was slouched in before. He tucks his legs up to his chest and if I could photograph him, I would squeeze him into a photo strip which would sit in my phone case. He just looks effortless.

I exhale in a feeble attempt to calm myself as I sit on the other side, both gazing at each other in the silence.

“Can we just stay here?” I whisper what was meant to only be for my thoughts.

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

I fold my legs under myself as I sit up and give my full attention to Sawyer, instead of the abundance of thoughts that are rushing through my mind. He needs this, deserves this, he deserves to be listened to more than anyone. His voice has been silenced by everyone who was meant to love him, by the people that we are taught from such a young age will love us regardless of who we are, he needs this more than anyone.

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