Twenty-Three
Sawyer
I struggle to believe that everything that is happening is my reality. I'm not even convinced by my own words and thoughts currently. My life is now scheduled, restricted to a regime which she created and tailors to her lifestyle, yet the idea of sneaking around with Avory within that dictated regime feels more freeing than anything I've ever experienced.
This is something that I, he, we have control over together and as individuals, and it’s exciting. I don't know what made me believe that I could so easily give up Avory. He's like a book you can never put down and it would be criminal to do so.
There are still so many dangers and anxieties bubbling at the thought of us doing this more often, though. More than I'd like to admit, and I'm convinced more than Avory is aware of. Unless he knows and is just this carefree and relaxed? She could catch us, she could punish me, she could make her way to Pick and Strings and drag Marcus into this. The list, ever growing, acts like some ancient scroll as it rolls around my mind with no end in sight. I need to talk to Avory about all of this, because I need him to burn this damn scroll.
I leave work shortly after Avory, albeit a few minutes later than planned, so my walk home is brisk with a quicker pace to my steps than usual. I don't want to risk even being a few minutes late, because I still don't understand the severity the consequences could have on my life, on Avory, on anything and everything. This is her through and through. She constantly leaves me in a state of fight or flight because she knows I am weak. Everything always works in her favour, and she abuses that.
I barrel through the front door, nearly tripping and falling headfirst into the stairs, but I arrive home two minutes earlier than expected. I did it. I'm sure the damp patches on my buttoned shirt and the faint wheeze to my deep breaths also shows that I did it.
I peek my head into the living room, planning to announce my arrival home with her demands, yet the cream sofas that face the TV are vacant. Silence fills the house and as I carry my body upstairs. She isn't even home. She's dictating my life, dictating my every move, yet will only ever care if I don't obey.
I swing my bedroom door open, the door bouncing back into my body as it ricochets from the wall. I push it once more and finally enter my room. It's like the door knows I’m pissed off and is mocking me. Mocking me by reminding me of the dent in my wall as the slam moves within the hollow wall, and I have just gone and made it worse. I drop my bag and run my fingers over the dent, the cracks fragile and likely to collapse any day now. That'll leave a hole in my wall, and I'm not sure what I'll do then.
She started this dent, on that night when I was ripped out of bed. My head suddenly starts to ache thinking about her skeletal fingers ripping through my curls. The ache spreads like wildfire across my body as I linger on her words that night. I don't want to think about her vicious dialect, though. I want the only thought swirling around in my mind to be about Avory; about our kiss in the café, about his voice and everything he's ever said to me.
I grab my phone and tap Avory's name, and I can't help but laugh to myself. Avory Bright (JUST A FRIEND!) displays across the screen, and I wonder if there was ever a time, or a place, or a different universe where we could've just been friends or not have even known of each other.
I open the editing menu and change his name, so it displays Avory <3, and I send a message his way.
Sawyer: Thinking about you and how if you had never walked into Sombre's Café on that specific day and specific time, maybe we wouldn't be here. I'm grateful for you, Avory <3.
And I speak the truth, or at least a very simplified version of it. I am grateful for him, for a list of reasons which extends every time I see him. To add to that list, how quickly he responds, because it stops my overthinking, anxiety fuelled mind from regretting whatever I do in the moment.
Avory: For every inch of your being, inside and out, I am grateful for <3.
My eyes well as I read his message over and over again, and after the fifth read, my sleeve has darkened since I used it to wipe away my downpour. No one has ever spoken about me in this way, and the buzzing sensation that tingles across my skin and causes all my brunette hairs to stand, is overwhelming in the best possible way. Avory sends me to cloud nine and above, and everything that tethers me to this earth is left behind and forgotten in half a heartbeat. When it's just us, everything becomes part of our world, and I dread the minutes until reality slaps me across the face once more. It reminds me that Avory will have to leave one day, whatever we have will have to face the challenge of distance, and that I am growing tired of leaving our world over and over.
Before my thumbs can somewhat organise my thoughts into a message, Avory's name pops up once again.
Avory: I'll see you tomorrow, beautiful.
Avory: And yes, you are beautiful. A beautiful man with a beautiful soul.
He thinks I'm beautiful?
Oh no, I'm definitely falling.
“I hope you enjoy, have a great day! Yes, you too!”
I call out to what I hope to be my last customer of the day as they exit the café.
I have spent the last hour of our opening hours trying to clean and close whatever I can before Avory shows up, if he shows up. No matter what reassurance he gives me and even with the trust I have in him, I struggle to believe that what we have going on isn't too good to be true. Especially for someone like me.
The clock hands which I eye up throughout the day finally reads the desired closing time, and I couldn’t lock the front door quick enough. I admire the café all around as I realise how much of the cleaning I have already completed, particularly the parts which Avory focuses on, leaving only the machinery.
I begin to ponder whether a coffee is in my near future before I relinquish the machines of their power for the evening, but a knocking interrupts my stare off with my own reflection in the silver surfaces.
“Sorry, we're—Never mind…”
I trail off as I remember whose knocking.
My cheeks are already burning, and a smile is already growing with each step I take. I push on the fire exit door and there he is – Avory’s smile practically glows against his pale skin as he slides his way into the staff room. I release the door from my grip and instinctively, my arms wrap around his neck and rest around the comforting, thick fabric of his hoodie. His hands smooth against my waist and sit on the small of my back, sending pleasant shivers up my spine. For a moment, his forehead presses against mine as our smiles smother any of our other facial features, but soon after, Avory's lips crash into mine, and I fully sink into him, all of him.
I move as close as I can get to Avory, my chest pressing against his as his hands travel up and down my back. If I could freeze time, I'd freeze it now and never press play. This is us, the best way to sum us up. Not in words, not in actions, but in the warming comfort which we create together, the safe haven which we continue to reign over together.
He pulls away and a gentle laugh leaves his lips, his forehead resting on mine once again. I can't help but laugh along with him because none of this feels real. I’m waiting for the cameras to roll out, for a crew to stop filming some random prank show, targeting vulnerable queer baristas by handing them the most gorgeous guitarist on a platter. I’m waiting to suddenly wake up and to find out I've been kissing my pillow this whole time.
“I missed you, Sawyer.”
“I missed you too, Avory.”
My hands trail from around his neck and down his chest, which may be becoming a favourite place of mine, and continue down to his hands where our fingers interlock. Saying “I miss you”
to Avory feels insane since I saw him yesterday, but I did. I miss every single thing about him when he’s not around and it somehow feels reciprocated.
I pull him along and into the café where his eyes dart around the sparkling tables and chairs with their table mats and trinkets lined up and ready for the next day.
“Sawyer, have you cleaned already? I wore my moving day cargos today. I was so ready to get down and dirty!”
Avory slides his bottom lip forward and pretends to seem upset. He can't hold it for long since his lips curl up and soft laughter escapes from his innuendo. Everything he does, even these silly moments, are unbelievably gorgeous and I find myself entranced by him.
“Yes, I did, and I'm longing for a coffee! Would you like one?”
I release my grip from his hands and strut around the counter, and for a second, we're stood in a familiar setting. Me behind the counter, and Avory standing on the other side, glancing between the menu, my cake selection and me. My mind darts back to the first time I saw Avory, and I can't help but hide my smile from him.
I duck behind the counter, finding two mugs as Avory brings himself to my side of the counter, and bites his lip. His eyes dart between the two mugs and my eyes and suddenly it hits me. I slide one of the mugs back into storage and grab a tall glass with the ridiculously small handles, and Avory's smile turns wide.
“You remembered.”
Avory only drinks iced coffee. I roll my eyes at him as I begin to set up to make our drinks. As I grind the mahogany beans each with their own individual markings and curves, I notice Avory leaning back on the counter and watching in the reflection of the machine. I smile to myself, realising what fun I could have with this. I spin myself around and grab Avory by the hands, pulling him to the machinery and placing myself behind him.
“Instead of watching me, why don't you try it yourself?”
Avory, laughing nervously at first, holds his hands under mine, as I give him a tour of every component that is included in brewing a coffee. How the roles have reversed from when Avory taught me guitar in a similar fashion, but with being shorter than Avory, I peer around him rather than over him. My arms hug the sides of his toned body, my head peeking around his bicep as I move his hand to grab the steel handle holding our ground up beans. I couldn't notice the smell of freshly ground beans like usual because Avory's seasoned cologne floods my nose, and it smells wonderful. He smells intoxicating, delicious, overwhelming, everything possible all at the same time.
“Hey teacher, want to focus on your subject, maybe?”
Avory peers over his shoulder so his ocean eyes meet mine, chuckling to himself as he bites his damn lip again. How long was I just standing here, taking all of him in for? How long is that image of his bitten lip planning to hang about in my mind? I shake my head to clear my thoughts and I lightly headbutt his bicep, kissing it better shortly after.
“Now press the ground down, but not too much pressure! You need to allow water to flow through the ground!”
Avory follows my instruction, lightly chuckling to himself and shaking his head with each one.
“Slide and twist the handle into the machine, and then press this button!”
I quickly slide my mug under the handle, and then the waterfall, or coffeefall, begins. The rich brown trickle with its golden tint fills the bottom of my mug, the aroma finally kicking in and overpowering Avory’s. He repeats the same sequence without my guidance, instead with my arms just resting around his waist and my hands tucking themselves in his hoodie pouch. Avory splashes the milk and syrup everywhere, but it’s finished, nonetheless. My hands follow the natural tension in Avory's arms once again, and I guide him to my silver jug for frothing milk. If I've learnt one thing about Avory and his punky nature, it's that doing something delicately is near impossible. Avory continuously pulls the steaming wand out of the milk when frothing, allowing milk to splatter all over the counters and across our arms. Avory’s rising and falling chest from his belting chuckle can be felt through his back, and it’s the most comforting feeling. I decide to finish the frothing before Avory floods the entire counter, and top off my coffee with the mug angled towards me, creating something similar to a fern leaf in the foam.
“Never again am I letting you use the milk wand.”
“That sounds vaguely dirty.”
I roll my eyes then laugh, a common occurrence with Avory it seems, and push myself up and onto the counter, my coffee balancing on the cake fridge and my legs dangling. Avory leans against the back counter and sips at his drink, his eyes locking onto me. I offer my glass out and towards Avory.
“Please correct me if I'm wrong, but cheers to our first date?”
I smile at the idea of a date, the two of us dating. If that’s even what we are doing right now? We sneak around kissing, touching, bonding, and I know I've thought of so much more with Avory, but I ponder over if he's reflecting the same emotions.
We tap our mug and glass together as Avory speaks, “To our first date. If you could have it anywhere, where would you want us to be right now?”
His glass clinks on the marble tops as he places it down and steps towards me, his boots echoing across the café with each step as his eyes focus on me. His hands slide under my knees as he pulls my legs up to hook around his hips, which I gladly accept. As my ankles cross and rest on his behind, my mind lightens at the reminder that a few weeks ago, I could have never imagined I'd be here with a man. I never even thought I'd ever be close to any man again, and yet here I am, with my hand pushing Avory's full waves aside and behind his ear as my thumb grazes against the silken skin of his cheek.
Avory's hands travel to the small of my back as I express the one thing I’d love.
“I'd want to be in the audience.”
Avory's eyebrows raise as if to question my decision.
“While you're on stage with Marcus, as Bright Lights.”
Avory’s smile forms with such ease as he realises what I’d want.
“With how busy our schedule has gotten recently; we might just be able to make that possible.”
Avory's smile moves closer until it meets mine. His lips are warm and full and delicious, and I'd give anything to continue our talks and kisses and touches until the morning. Then the day after that. And the day after that.
Our mouths eventually separate, but his forehead rests against mine as I speak, my words coming out shakier than planned.
“If you get any busier then maybe you won’t have time for me,”
I tease, yet the reality of it possibly happening begins to stab in my chest.
That familiar feeling of my only purpose being for some fun, something easy, returns and I try my best to hide it. I swallow the idea as much as I can, but my rapidly drying mouth isn't helping the situation.
“Or I sneak you around our shows in my guitar case and take you everywhere with me.”
My brows knit together as I question what on earth he is trying to get across.
“You know, because you're so petite?”
My mouth falls open as my hand slaps the middle of his chest. Avory's laugh bounces around the walls of the café, before his lips find mine once more in a fleeting moment of bliss.
“Oh yeah? Do you go sneaking all of your friends in your guitar cases?”
Crap. I don't mean friends. We definitely aren't friends, we are so much more than that, but I don't know what. My mouth struggles to string actual words together in the form of an apology for my absolutely incorrect label of us, but Avory stills my mouth.
His hands cup either side of my face, his fingers wrapping around the sides of my head and tangling in my hair as he crashes his lips into mine. Avory uses a force which I have never felt from him, yet it feels so right. My thighs clench around his waist in an attempt to steady myself from toppling off of the counter, and Avory takes my hint.
One hand weaves its way out of my hair, and he plants it on the counter behind me as he continues to massage my bottom lip between his. An overwhelming heat spreads across my entire body, and I beg to have this shirt and jumper off my skin, Avory's too. Not yet, not here, not ever. I struggle to stop my mind from thinking about us and everything we could do right here, right now. And Avory's tongue slipping into my mouth and dancing with mine does not help that one bit.
Avory has this incredible way of shutting up every single thought that has ever, and will ever, rampage my brain and making him, us, the only thing that can populate my mind.
My hands have no connection to my thoughts as they tug at the hem of his hoodie, yet instead of stripping him of his cosy layer, my hands slither underneath and rest on his warm skin. My fingertips trace and follow the curves and dips of his muscles, and this is all I will allow myself to do. I want to explore every single inch of Avory's body, but that is something that is far out of my reach and something I have little to no experience in. My fingertips continue against his skin until Avory's mouth reluctantly slows and pulls away from mine. Our breathing syncing together – deep and quick – is the only sound which fills our space.
“Sawyer, we clearly aren't ‘friends’.”
Avory's lips crash into mine once more, stealing the little breath I have finally captured.
“Well—”
I stumble over my next words, because these are words which my lips don't know how to manoeuvre. A language which I don't understand, unless I’m with Avory.
“—Would you possibly sneak a man with a massive attraction to you, who may have thought of more with you, into your guitar case, then?”
Avory pulls back slightly, his eyes drawing lines over my entire being as his face falls still. An instant regret of my words clouds over my mind, not only through the fear of what Avory may say, but because every second I spend with this man, I forget about everything else. The only thing that matters in our world is us, but when our world collapses once again and we have to part ways at that goddamn fire exit door, I'm reminded of everything that has forever revolved and controlled my life.
I don't realise how fast my breathing has become as Avory's thumbs rubs circles across my cheekbones in an attempt to soothe me – it works.
“Sawyer.”
He brings his forehead to mine, the tip of his nose brushing against mine briefly. “You'd definitely be a small enough man with a massive attraction to me, who may have thought of more with me to sneak around in my guitar case.”
Avory, who I am incredibly grateful to for understanding the jumble of words which just fell out of mouth, laughs the most gorgeous laugh.