Eleven
Sawyer
I try my hardest to shut the front door with minimal noise. I don’t want to be seen, I don’t want to be heard, I don’t want her to acknowledge me.
I want to go upstairs, hide away and stare at this note and poster forever. I don’t want this high that I’m feeling, solely from Avory goddamn Bright, to fly away and leave me muted from anything outside from this house.
This house and this so-called family are all that echo between my ears, day and night, and having this glimmer of something different, something that could change things, for better or worse I don’t know, but I know that it scares me.
The idea of possibly getting to know someone like Avory ignites something within me, the lingering thoughts of his hand on mine, his hand on my knee fuels something inside me which craves more, but it also terrifies me. It terrifies me because what if she finds out about Avory?
The picture is becoming clearer about how Avory could feel about men, especially with this note, and I know I should just ignore him because nothing can happen – I can’t ruin mother’s dream since I destroyed the first one.
I mean, could we just be friends? My mind is an intense game of tug of war, an incredibly attractive guitarist who is completely messing with my head on one side, and everything else that I have ever known on the other. The latter is brought to my sudden attention as her gravely vocals groan from the living room. I gaze at the stairs, wondering if she noticed my arrival home.
“Thomas? That you? Come to the sofa, babe!”
Ha, clearly not for me then.
I peer through the gap between the hinges, watching my breathing as I do not want to be caught. Bottles are stacked across the table, rolling across the floor, slowly falling out of her grasp.
The TV echoes with the news, a stocky and older presenter talking about the LGBT parades and the positive impacts it has for the community, showing clips of joyful faces and couples holding each other, kissing each other, supporting each other. It’s rare to see such a positive presentation on the media of our community, my heart swells at the thought.
“Get this crap off my TV! I’ve got enough of this shit living in that room upstairs.”
I’m taken back by her words as I stifle back the tears, the room falling silent. So now I’m just something? I’m just shit? My feet can’t take me up the stairs quick enough. I’m surprised that I even touched every step on the way.
I throw my bag against the wall; my jumper and shirt are ripped over my shoulders while my shorts drop to my ankles. I kick the outfit to the side as I pull my baggy comforts of an oversized tee and cotton shorts over my frame before throwing myself into the piles and piles of duvet, the poster and note in hand, as I continuously trace Avory’s handwriting.
Hey, thanks for the help with the guitar today.
Care to see me play it sometime? Arrives tomorrow!
Text me.
Avory :)
His phone number lays on the napkin, and I can’t stop myself. I drag my phone under the duvet with me, I load up my contacts and copy the number across.
I go to type a name for his contact before realising what this means. I can’t possibly lead him on. I can’t do anything with him, but we could still be friends, right?
I mean, friends send each other texts, I send Gwen texts, so friends could still be an option. Surely, she can’t exclude me from friendships with men as well. Avory and I are friends and nothing more.
I save him as Avory Bright (JUST A FRIEND!). I have never had to consider how to say hello more in my life. I mutter at myself to shut up over and over as I tap the keys, I need to do this.
Sawyer: Hey Avory, it’s Sawyer :)
My shift finished roughly seven minutes ago. I’m locking the front door to the café and pulling the shutters down, extending my arms up and having a sudden waft of how nervous I am. Luckily, I bring a can of deodorant everywhere with me which I submerge my entire body in. Suddenly, I’m the walking epitome of cinnamon and deep floral undertones.
My mind continues to fumble over itself, it’s trying to run as fast as it can with untied shoelaces and a blindfold on down a slippery street, all at the thought of what Avory will think about – anything and everything to do with me.
My breath quickens, I’ve never gone anywhere other than home after work, what if she ever finds out where I’m going?
In, hold, out. In, hold, out. In – I just need to move my feet toward Pick and Strings and do this – out.
The front door has a bell on it similar to mine, the silence of the evening streets drifting away as the soulful guitar music grows in volume.
Oak, musk and warmth fills my nostrils as my eyes take in the entire aesthetic of these vast displays of musical instruments which I’d never seen past videos online.
I lose interest immediately when I see the reason that I’m standing in this shop. He relaxes back in his chair, his legs crossed and propped up on the desk as he twirls what I assume is a pick between his fingers. I can’t stop staring at his fingers bending and twisting it around, and clearly, he can’t stop staring at me.
I force my eyes up from his hands in the hopes that this festering heat in my cheeks will simmer away, however this is an even worse idea because this means my eyes locking onto his.
A moment stands between us where time doesn’t exist, where all my anxieties flit away and my reality is imaginary all because a smile begins to grow on Avory’s face. A smile which radiates kindness and something sickeningly sweet.
“A part of me thought you wouldn’t show up.”
I glance at myself in the mirror panels behind some of the guitars dangling high. Brown jeans which are slightly too fitting for my liking; a tucked in white button up on with the outline of leaves patterned all over, and a hunter green cardigan dangling over my shoulders. My trusty messenger bag hangs over my body.
“I thought our texting all night would’ve given it away.”
It’s true. We chatted about everything and anything and I already feel like I’m beginning to understand who Avory Bright is. I hardly slept last night because this gorgeous being, who is currently in front of me chuckling to himself and rising from his chair, had my emotions throwing themselves from wall to wall in my bedroom as I eventually convinced myself that this is okay, seeing him is okay because we are just friends.
FRIENDS.
It’s okay if I find a friend attractive. It’s okay if my mind wanders to places that are most definitely more than friendly because they will never happen, those thoughts stay with me, and act as my glimpse at the life I will never experience. I have to put my everything into the café because I won’t ruin that, too. I’ve got this under control.
“I’m glad you’re here, it arrived today and it. Is. Gorgeous.”
So are you. Sawyer, stop it.
He beckons me to follow him behind the desk where a door leads to a small set of stairs leading downwards.
“You know, I was always taught not to follow strange men into vans, and attractive strangers into basements.”
“Attractive, huh?”
He stops at the bottom of the steps as he turns back and winks at me.
Crap, my bottom lip is now between my teeth, attempting to hold back a grin I can feel growing. This is going to be so much harder than I thought since Avory slips me some sort of truth serum which causes any buried thoughts to rise to the top and be spurted out without thinking.
That’s how we got here in the first place.
As I reach the bottom step, Avory pulls across a large amp and pats the top twice. I take the hint and perch myself on the edge as I take in the room.
It’s a small room with a mint carpet and a foam padded ceiling which creates a vast range of small, grey mountains plastered across the walls.
Piles of equipment lay around the room which Avory digs through, pulling together a nicer, newer looking amp than the one I’m sitting on, an armful of cables and a black, leather case which replicates the appearance of snakeskin.
I observe him as he slowly gets lost in it all, and watching his mind work is bewitching. I have already figured out that Avory is a beautifully hot, oh so very hot man to look at, but his mind is also so beautifully intriguing – I need to learn that I can’t just stare all the time.
“So, do you think music is your calling? The something you were meant to do?”
Avory unzips his case and reveals a gleaming and pristine mint green guitar. He begins to peel it out of the case and removes all of the cardboard and air bags which surround the delicate parts.
“Of course. Funnily enough, when I was young, I wanted to be a builder.”
He stifles a small laugh as he gazes up at me for a moment. “But when Marcus got me to hold a guitar for the first time, as cheesy as it sounds, it’s like I knew. I then started trying out different instruments and different styles, but all that work was guitar and drums, so they stuck. What about you? Do the coffee beans call to you?”
I straighten my back and suck in a breath at the thought of working at the café my whole life, but I have no choice because of what I caused.
“Hey, you don’t have to answer if it’s a tricky situation, I understand.”
Damn you, Avory Bright.
His hand finds its way to my knee again but this time it lingers longer. The warmth of his hand begins to seep through my trousers and onto my bare skin. Anytime I find myself secretly hoping for him to become some asshole or someone who just wants some quick action just so I can find it easier when this eventually ends, he does this.
He shows me that he is a genuine, caring man whose heart is clearly too big for his chest. Even just his hand brings a sense of comfort to the anxiety that has started growing.
“It’s just… my father left when I was thirteen and ever since then, my mother and I have had a rocky relationship. So, the idea of being there my whole life is ever so slightly terrifying.”
That’s sugarcoating it. That’s sugarcoating the ass out of it. It isn’t that I don’t trust Avory, but I haven’t said the entire situation out loud to anyone other than my mother, Gwen and Xander. I don’t know how those words will sound or feel anymore, I barely even understand the whirlwind of thoughts that are forever planted in my mind.
“Sawyer, I’m so sorry. I may not know what you have been through, whatever it may be, but I think you are a stronger person than you give yourself credit for.”
He raises his head to meet my eyes briefly as he takes the last piece of packaging off of his guitar. He begins to piece together the cables with each input. “And Marcus and I can definitely give you credit for the amazing coffee you make.”
I lightly kick his knee as he chuckles to himself again. I could listen to that all day. Avory finishes rigging everything together and makes his way over to the amp where I’m sitting, straddling it behind me as his arms wrap around either side of me and his mint guitar balances on my lap.
“Um, Avory?”
“Yes, Sawyer?”
“I’ve never played a guitar. I thought I was going to be serenaded by Bright Lights’ very own guitarist?”
“Well let’s find out if music is possibly your calling, then maybe I’ll give you a little something.”
As I look down at the guitar on my lap, Avory’s arms under mine and resting against my waist, I can feel him smiling at his little comment.
“Here, may I?”
He hovers his palms over the backs of my hands until I nod in agreement and soon after his warm hands are engulfing my spindly fingers.
Why does this feel so right?
Despite this incredible feeling of being so close to Avory Bright that his oaky musk is nearly overwhelming to my nose, I can’t stop my heart from leaping into my throat and then back into my chest, over and over. He’s panicking me while also calming me and he doesn’t even know it.
This is just a friend showing another friend how to play a guitar.
“I will not be responsible if I break this guitar, Avory.”
“I’ve got you; you’ll be alright.”
Shit. I’ve got you? Did he read some sort of report written on me about everything I’ve ever wanted to hear? Being friends is going to be so much harder if he carries on like this, and he probably doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.
His fingers lock with mine; he guides my hands to where they need to be to play the guitar, yet that’s the least of my focuses right now.
Avory begins teaching me about every part of his new guitar, showing me what they all do and how they affect the sounds which it creates, and during his lesson it seems my teacher has been scooting himself close enough to have his entire chest pressing against my back.
Avory’s chin rests on my shoulder, his hot breath tickling my neck as he speaks, every hair standing for attention. I can feel that if this continues, the hairs on my neck won’t be the only thing wanting to stand for attention.
“Now, hold these strings here, and take this,”
he hands me a pick he had been stashing away, “now, strum down and you should play your first chord.”
Avory releases his hands from mine and leaves me holding his new prized possession, yet his chest never leaves my back, and his head relaxes on my shoulder.
His arms drop to rest on the amp we sit on, however, I’m sure I felt his hands holding my waist for a brief second. His gaze locks onto me and the now familiar warming sensation falls over my body.
I exhale as I drag the pick down the guitar strings – a harmony of notes bursting from the amp. Avory leans back on his hands as he celebrates my first chord.
“Woah, I need to be careful of you! There can’t be another pretty guitarist in town.”
So, we’re both aware that there’s attraction here then? Crap.
“I’ll be coming for your place in Bright Lights soon, if you’re not careful.”
I lean back, propping the guitar up against the closest wall as I find myself resting on Avory’s chest. Avory doesn’t move, instead he laughs, the bass rumbling through his chest. This shouldn’t be natural. This shouldn’t feel natural, but it does, oh it does, and I don’t want to leave this moment, but I need to, I need to bring myself back to the reality where Avory can’t be an option.
I sit myself and spin my legs around, crossing them on top of the amp. Avory sits himself up, our knees brushing against each other’s.
“So, how often can I steal you away from that counter then?”
I smile at him, not knowing how to reply. No one sees me away from the counter.
“Because I will pester you about our guitar lessons.”
He winks, and I think he knows how weak those make me.
I can’t shut my mouth up. “I don’t know, my guitar teacher is pretty hot and it’s hard to concentrate, I might need to find someone else.”
We laugh and even our laughs harmonise together perfectly.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Our laughter continues until silence eventually fills the space, and his eyes dance between my eyes and lips. My gaze falls to his lips, and I’m desperate for that connection with him. I am desperate to feel his lips on mine.
I can’t silence my thoughts though. Am I aware that this will cause problems? Yes. Am I aware of the consequences if she ever finds out? Yes, and I am terrified, but somehow Avory locks that all away and throws the key into the next continent.
The tip of my nose brushes against his, my eyes rapidly darting between his eyes and his lips. This sensation hasn’t rushed through me since college, and yet this is a hundred times stronger.
This sensation comes to a grinding halt as my phone buzzes, pulsing shivers across my thigh. I pull it out of my pocket to see who it is, my face remaining ever so close to Avory’s.
It’s her. It’s like she knows I was about to do something that would end in nothing but upset and disappointment. All it reads is:
Home. Now.
“Avory, I’m sorry, I have to go.”