Page 25 of Sorry, We're Closed

“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.”

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