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.
He stands from the table, pulling me behind him and I can't help my eyes falling to his behind as those chocolate trousers hug him so well.
He takes me through a door, the same door he came out of the first time I saw him, a staff only sign hanging flimsily from a suction cup. He pulls a hidden cord which brings a dim light to what I assume is the staff and storage room, considering the banged-up shelves, sofa and fridge which has been shoved into the corner.
He drops my hand and turns to face me.
“Sawyer, care to explain?”
I chuckle slightly because this boy can lead me anywhere and I'd still follow. It doesn’t matter as long as I’m with him.
“I'm sorry, I just feel safer telling you everything here.”
“I'm sorry… Safer? Sawyer, are you okay?”
Instincts that I didn't realise I have kick in, I bring myself inches away from Sawyer, both of his hands in mine, his scent of the sweetest vanilla radiating from him. He is intoxicating in the best possible way.
Seconds linger between us where the tension drags. This isn't one sided either. I feel Sawyer's eyes drifting between my eyes and my lips.
Just kiss me already.
Instead, he pulls me along and sits me down on the battered sofa, placing himself next to me with his legs tucked underneath him, a gap which feels like miles between us.
“Avory, please let me speak. Let me finish and let me explain everything. I haven't told anyone any of this since Gwen and her brother first found out, so I can't imagine how this is going to sound.”
Gwen must mean the world to him if he's told whatever I'm about to hear to her. Why is he going to tell me this then? I nod and my eyes lock onto Sawyer.
His lips move as he speaks, his hands pulling at threads on his khaki sweater, his nails digging at the skin on his hands. I listen to him as he tells me everything.
Thirteen fucking years old.
When I was thirteen, Marcus was introducing me to electric guitars after learning on acoustic for so long. To hear about everything since then, I have no words for what this boy has been through. I can’t move; I can’t bring myself to say anything because nothing I can say will bring the certainty and love that this boy so desperately craves and deserves.
Instead, my eyes meet Sawyer's which are sparkling but not like they usually do, instead they create pools which slowly drip down his cheeks, reflecting the one overhead light in the room.
“I know this does nothing for what you've been through, but I'm sorry, Sawyer.”
He responds with a sniffle as he continues to pull, tug, and rip the dangling strings of his jumper sleeve.
“I deserved this. I caused this by coming out, and ever since, whatever this is, has started, I have been followed by guilt and signs that I shouldn't be doing this.”
I swallow down the dread that starts to build in my throat. I’m not ready to say goodbye, to leave him here to continue a life being fuelled by fear and guilt of something which is not his fault.
My mouth finally forms the shapes needed to get some words out, but they aren't the words I expect.
“I'm not ready to say goodbye to you, Sawyer. I have never felt this way about anyone, and it scares that me that I am so attached already, but losing you scares me more.”
My eyes shudder between the floor and Sawyer's open mouth. The silence between us is killing me, and my foot begins to bounce rapidly. Did I just massively overstep some sort of boundary?
My hands rest on the waxy fabric of this navy sofa until a soft graze of Sawyer’s fingertips on my wrist moves my focus. His tips move up the back of my hand, before intertwining with mine, and we both face forward.
“Shit, Sawyer, I'm sorry, I know I'm not helping the situation, but you are an amazing, beautiful person. Inside and out, you have shown me nothing but your beautiful soul. And how both of your parents can disown you and throw someone so amazing to the curb, I will never understand.”
I exhale deeply, releasing the anger that is burning in my chest slightly, so my next words don't sound so harsh. His hand grips mine tighter than usual.
“They are both full of shit, and neither of them deserve you and everything you do.”
I bite my bottom lip and squeeze my eyes shut because I instantly regret saying it. Some things are meant to be said while others are meant to be kept in your mind.
“Thank you, that doesn’t feel natural to hear but thank you. I have spent years fighting these thoughts, fighting myself, fighting everything that they hate about me, but funnily enough that is also everything that makes me, me. Since you've been around, even with this guilt and these signs all screaming at me that this isn't going to work, you somehow silence them. You bring out this part of me that was silenced for so long and make him scream the loudest he can in an empty room.”
My chest rattles as I exhale again, I look to the ceiling because I’m not willing to cry in front of Sawyer just yet.
“Avory, I like you. A lot. I want to see where this goes, but you need to understand the situation that you are putting yourself in first. I still live with her, I still work for her, I am still tied to everything here and to her.”
This situation is a no-brainer for me. I turn to face Sawyer, his eyes looking deep into mine as my hand reaches for the back of his neck, the heat developing there feeling sensational as it travels across my arm and into every part of my body.
I pull him closer, and his lips press into mine, a low hum creeping from Sawyer’s throat and tickling against my lips.