Page 12 of Sorry, We're Closed

I amass all my washing by the dishwasher and begin to load the trays.

Four minutes. Ding, ding.

The front door waves open and is shut carefully behind whoever just strolled on in. I turn around, ready to explain that I am nearly closed.

“Hey babe, before you say it, I'm so sorry, I know that you close soon! Xander and I didn't finish our delivery round until just now and I'm dying for a coffee, this gorgeous girl needs her drink!”

Knowing that Gwen is going to be my last customer of the day rains a sense of relief over the day I have already dealt with.

Gwen has been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and practically an older sister to me, but only by a couple of months. We went all the way back to when we were a couple of six-year-olds, both of us trying to fit into one hula hoop together during break time at school. We ended up face down to the ground, both with bruised knees, but we haven't looked back since.

“Babe? That's new. Also, lock the front door!”

I begin making her drink as Gwen pops her head around the counter and grabs the keys hanging on a brass hook. She locks the front door and flips the sign to read ‘sorry, we're closed’.

“I'm keeping you on your toes! I don't want you getting used to ‘hun’ all the time!”

I slide across Gwen's iced latte as she rummages around for her purse in the bag dangling off her shoulder. Gwen is effortlessly pretty, no matter the situation. Her platinum blonde hair was clearly thrown up into a bun this morning, her darker roots on show as loose stands framed her natural beauty. She has a petite nose and light brown eyes which are framed by her sharp eyeliner and curled eyelashes, forcing your attention to be drawn to them. Her lips have a thin layer of pink gloss on them, the shimmer matching the pink diamond earrings she has in.

“I promise I have it! Did I leave it in the van?”

Gwen continues to dig around her bag as I glance at her uniform. Well, I say uniform loosely as a maroon fleece hangs from her shoulders with ‘The Sweet Bakery’ embroidered on the breast, yet she dons a white tee and black flared trousers. How does she even make slacks look good?

Gwen whoops louder than expected when she eventually finds her wallet, tapping her card and running around the counter. Her arms wrap around me and squeeze around my neck slightly. Her floral and vanilla perfume floods my nostrils before she pulls away.

We both lead very busy or strict lives so these moments, as quick as they are, mean a lot to the both of us. She has forever been my guardian angel, and I'd like to think I am hers.

Gwen waves me goodbye as she promises to text me, leaving through the back door. I crank my music up and shuffle from my café playlist into my regular playlist, a song blasting which forces back memories which I had silenced years ago.

The bouncy intro to First Time He Kissed a Boy by Kadie Elder begins to play, my mind rushing back to my lips on Rue's in the college art room closet.

He was my first and only physical interaction with a man, and it has to stay that way. He clearly wanted more than a kiss that day, judging by the way his hands trailed up my shirt and held my delicate frame, but everything my mother and father had said and did overwhelmed me. I couldn't enjoy him.

Instead, I pushed him away in that dark, cramped space, not realising a tower of blank canvas stood tall behind him which came tumbling down. Everything that day was safe, consensual, wanted, until it actually happened, and guilt riddled my body.

Knowing that my one chance has already come and gone, I skip the song. I need to close and get home.

Six

Avory

That familiar and comforting scent drifts under my door and into my room, causing my eyes to flicker awake. This scent only appears maybe thrice a year at best, but it means that Marcus is cooking.

Marcus is cooking his signature breakfast, which he claims he created yet everyone has made this at some point, but somehow, he makes it taste so much better than everyone else’s.

This scent is more than convincing enough to get me out of bed so early on a Saturday, to put on the first shirt I can get my hands on and throw my hair up into the messiest half up half down style. Loose strands tickle my neck as I make my way out of my bedroom, leaving my curtain closed and bed a mess.

“Good morning, bud! Could you smell it?”

Marcus swings round with a spatula in hand and a toothy grin surrounded by his thick stubble, which tells me he has already had two coffees and didn’t think to shave this morning.

I pull out the stool by the island and sit, my face in my hands and elbows on the cooling marble.

“Of course, I could smell it! What makes you grace this day with your glorious breakfast then?”

“It’s our first gig in Tetherton tonight! Not only one more place which we can officially tick off to say we have performed in, but with this Farewell to Summer Nights only weeks away now, this is a great chance to convince them to give us a place, anything to perform there!”

He places a plate between my elbows as the toaster pops two bagels into the air, both toppling over the edge and onto the counter.

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