Ten
Avory
Sales are slow today. So slow that Marcus decided to bundle up a few of our band posters into a ball, constrict the paper tight with elastic bands he found hidden in the bottom of our drawers and throws it directly at me. So, I do the most reasonable thing and throw it directly back at him, thus beginning our game of catch.
I rest in the desk chair with my feet propped up as Marcus pivots himself around the room, attempting to do something productive while his thoughts are clearly preoccupied.
“So, I finally got some contact from the pub.”
My mind runs back to the thoughts of being on stage again. The bass pumping through my chest as I strum the strings, Marcus and I back-to-back and earning a roar of cheers, the sheer amount of alcohol beverages being thrown around by everyone and anyone.
“They loved us! They want us back! At least once a week while we’re here!”
We are definitely settling in and becoming a favourite in Tetherton, and the idea of guaranteed shows, night in night out, is becoming a reality. The nightlife has always been our calling, but a new feeling arises in my stomach, a small tug wrapping itself around me with the idea of those daytime visits to Sombre’s Café.
I’m brought back to reality as the now crumbling ball bounces against my chest.
“Marcus, that’s amazing! When’s the next gig then?”
I make sure to put as much power as I can behind this throw, but the ball is paper after all. It doesn’t go very far or hit very hard. Marcus dives across the table to catch the ball of crumple.
“They’ve agreed to Friday night, every week, but they’ll let me know if they want a second gig a week. Also, I’m talking to some other places! I’ve got a good feeling about this town.”
So do I, Marcus, but maybe for a different reason than you.
I can’t get that beautiful barista off my mind. I can’t piece this puzzle of a man together, no matter how much I muse about him. These feelings are anything but familiar to me.
I want my hands all over him, but to also figure him out. That feeling of lust is prominent, as my eyes often find themselves staring at what could be hiding in those snug jeans of his, front and back, but I know that Sawyer isn’t just some fun.
I want to feel his build, feel his – what I imagine would be – delicate skin under my fingertips, to caress and kiss every part of him. This guy has me wrapped around his dainty fingers, and I don’t mind it.
“You know what this means, Marc?”
I throw the now disintegrating ball into the bin as I drop my legs under the table and sit up, an ache running down my spine from leaning on the chair handles for too long.
Marcus wiggles his eyebrows at me as he speaks. “We need to start playing our new shit?”
“Hell yeah, we do! I need to start making use of that recording room.”
A thought flashes to the front of my mind.
“You know, you could also make use of those spindly legs of yours, and go get us some coffee?”
Marcus winks at me in the most exaggerated way possible.
“Fine, but I’m going to stay there and do some gig planning first.”
I’ve got a plan, and I hope this works. I really hope this works.
How does that bell never annoy Sawyer? The ringing echoes throughout my ears as the front door slowly shuts itself. The bell is suddenly the last thing on my mind, though, as I see him.
He’s leaning on the counter and talking to a blonde woman with stunning features and a pastel dress sense, her toned stomach on show – we look nothing alike as I hide every bare patch of myself away.
Standing on the opposite sides of the café, my mind is buzzing to know if this is even a good idea. I hardly know this guy; I don’t even know if this closed book of a man can be opened or if this is just him.
I fix my feet and my mind to the here and now, I never have to do that. A boy has never gotten me so riled up with myself before. I just don’t want to mess this up and lose these chances to just admire him.
He really does know what looks good on him; an olive jumper hangs on his shoulders with two white stripes hugging around his waist, a white button up underneath. All of this tucks into a pair of dark grey denim shorts with an array of mushrooms sprouting from the rolls of denim at the bottom of the shorts, like it’s their very own soil.
When he turns around, these shorts are no longer cute but fitting, and they are dangerous in the way they hug him tightly, displaying that bubble butt off to the world. I’m surprised he can even fit all of him into those shorts.
“Hey, you can go ahead and order! I’m just nattering his ear off like usual!”
The woman whips her hair around and waves me over, a smile which displays her pearl like teeth.
So, they do know each other. Sawyer buries his face into his hands as the woman begins giggling to herself. I start to feel like I’m walking in on a joke I won’t understand.
“Sawyer, honey, I’m off, but I’ll see you later this week with your delivery.”
Sawyer peels a hand off of his face and waves goodbye to the woman. She stops in her stride and stands in front of me.
“I’m Gwen, sorry for holding him up, Avory.”
Wait, how does she know my name? Has Sawyer been speaking about me? My heart feels like skipping a beat at the thought of Sawyer speaking about me to this woman who clearly means a lot to him. Maybe he just speaks about all of his customers?
“Not a problem at all, Gwen. Take it easy!”
She nods to me with that same smile and winks at Sawyer as she strolls away. I approach the counter as Sawyer brings himself up to his full height again, a rose colour spreading over his cheeks.
“Hey Avory, what can I get you?”
A flustered expression spreads across his face as he begins fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper.
I’ve never seen this side of him, did Gwen say something to him?
“Hey, Sawyer. Just my drink to sit in, and Marcus’ to take out, please. I’ve got some planning to do so I’m going to hang about for a bit.”
His eyes flutter as if with confusion, and I never realised that even eyelashes can be pretty. They are long and curl at the end, and I want to see them closer. I want my hands to cup his face and to count every freckle and every eyelash and admire every miniature detail about him.
He hums in agreement as he turns around and begins crafting our drinks, swaying his hips from side to side as he leans to grab every different component of my order. God, I could watch him in those goddamn shorts all day long, I hope my drink never gets made.
“Here you go Avory, take a seat wherever you like! We do shut in an hour though.”
There it is. While small, it’s a smile, nonetheless. His lips look full with a natural tint of pink to them, shallow dimples appearing on either side of his face. I am right – he does have a pretty smile. A beautiful smile which I find myself wishing to feel against my lips.
Oh my god, I need to stop.
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.