The Truths We Make (House of Poe #1)

14. Infinite Worlds

Infinite Worlds

Fall, 12 years before

M y bones rattle from my toes to my teeth, some pop song thrumming wildly through the floorboards of the summer cabin. Teenagers stream around me, some walking into the safety of the structure, others out to the bonfire in the woods. The soda I’m sipping has gone flat, and I can’t help but ask myself for the millionth time why I even came tonight. A hand wraps around my shoulder, guiding me out the door and away from the music.

“Let’s get cozy by the fire. It looks so cozy, ” he coos.

Oh yeah, this is why. Paxton’s breath is sharp with liquor, his words as airy as a balloon accidentally let go to the sky. I’m here to babysit him while he chugs drinks he isn’t old enough to have. I let him pull me toward the flickering heat. Oliver should arrive soon. His tutoring session ended 20 minutes ago, to take over the Paxton Patrol Watch. Paxton, when drunk, is happy, but careless. The last party he went to, Alexander had to pick him up after he was found taking a bath, suds and all, in the community fountain.

The clouds are becoming bruised, nighttime ready to descend and bring with it the chill my sunburnt shoulders need. Fall is already in full swing, but none of us are quite apt to let the ache of summer go. That’s why we’re here, at the Let the Light Shine Bash, a right of way for every St. Botolph student and the boys insisted I needed to experience my youth.

“There’s our log! Hurry Eve, before someone snatches it!” Paxton says conspiratorially.

He releases my shoulder then sloppily jogs over to the space just vacated by a couple, now making out against another tree. He reaches his hand for mine and pulls me down next to him. I stumble into place, a sharp edge of bark digging into my thigh, making me yelp and throw my weight over to Paxton to get away from the pain. Paxton wraps a hand around my backside to protect me, even if he isn’t sure what from.

“Whoa! Easy! What happened?” he asks.

He’s so close I can see the orange of the flames reflected in his silvery blue eyes. Flashes of moon and tide play with every dance the light does. He smells of lemon and vodka and honeysuckle soap. The tiniest bit of stubble beginning to peek through on his jaw and cheeks. He’s handsome . The thought slips between the space of reality into objectiveness that I dash away. Still, the burn of them brightens my cheeks, anyway.

“Well, don’t the two of you look… comfortable.”

The words are curt, and my blood overheats at the sound of them. I hurry to slide my legs off Paxton and away from his hand, which has now ended up resting on my ass. I’m barely breathing when I look up to find Oliver’s mouth pulled flat, his wild curls tossed everywhere, hiding what can only be the deep set of his brow. Irritation spills out from his features. Before I can ask what’s wrong, Paxton barrels toward his brother, arms flung out to wrap him in a bear hug.

“Brother! You’ve missed so much. Matt and Ally had a spectacular blow out! She’s been asking about where you’ve been. And then, Eve here, had an ouch, but I helped her,” he says, words slurred and hiccupped.

Oliver stares at me before patting his brother twice on the back, turning his full attention to him. He sees the red plastic cup in his hand and takes it, looking in and sniffing at the contents.

“It’s water. I had him switch right before we came out here,” I say, happy to have some sober company.

Pax has had more than enough, and he may be unhappy with me taking away his drinks now, but he’ll thank me in the morning. To punctuate my point, Paxton frowns .

“She was so mean to me, Oli. I even quoted Tennyson to her, and she still forced me to dump out my drink,” he pouts.

“Tennyson? That’s impressive given the fact you are saying things like had an ouch …” Oliver smiles. It’s small but I hurry to return it.

“The Lotos-Eaters. He actually didn’t do half bad,” I laugh. “Had most of the words right. Even if he started to go into quoting The Odyssey by the end.”

Paxton’s drunken, lopsided grin is hard to be mad at, and Oliver releases the rest of the tension in his face. Whatever happened today that upset him melts from his shoulders. Oliver hands Paxton back the water and takes the seat he vacated next to me. I feel the warmth of him through my shorts as his black jeans brush against my bare skin, causing gooseflesh. He always feels like a furnace.

“HEY! JASON! Wait up, man!” Paxton yells as he skips into the crowd.

I move to follow, but Oliver’s hand on my knee stops me. I raise my brow, wondering why we’re not preventing the drunken mess from doing anything stupid, since that’s why we’re here.

“Let him go for now. We’ll find him in a bit,” Oliver says softly.

He’s staring into the fire; lost in thoughts I desperately need to know, eyes turned down and vacant. All I’ve ever wanted is to crack open the mind of Oliver Poe and let the poetry leak from it. To swim through the waters of his consciousness and let it sweep me out to sea. I can’t, so I settle for asking, his words never quite leaving me satisfied enough. But they’ll have to do.

“How was today? You look a little shallow, like your darkness is going to run aground at any moment,” I ramble.

I always try to keep up with the boys. With their eloquence. With their polite society raising and entitlement to the soul. Their quick wit always seems to outpace me. This time, though, Oliver smiles, allowing me to relax my shoulders. I must be saying something right. With Paxton, it’s easy. He doesn’t carry the weight of his ancestry as much as Oliver. He’ll forgive the small talk or gossip. But Oliver has never been anything other than bone deep.

“It’s only ever you that sees that part of me. Or at least, decipher it from the rest. Most just assume I’m lost in some story I’m telling myself. I don’t even think Paxton notices the truth. Maybe pieces of me just come to the surface when you’re around. Like calling to like. What if… What if you’re the darkness and I’m only opening to you?”

He still isn’t looking at me, and I cannot thank the stars enough because I’m positive the blush in my cheeks is lighting me up brighter than the bonfire ever could. I don’t know whether to feel ashamed or delighted. If anyone else had said I reminded them of darkness, it would be an insult. Something to make me crawl deeper into myself and throw on a cheerful face. But this was Oliver, and to him, darkness was revered. A reflection. Surely, he didn’t mean to attach such a thing to me.

“Does that mean we’re damaged, then? Since we don’t shine like Paxton? Do you wish that you could hide it?” I ask.

What I really want to know is if he wishes he could hide it from me . That he wasn’t around me and didn’t have to be reminded of shadows and questions. Of asking more from the world at sixteen than who he’d take to prom in May. Did he want to shed the parts of him that made him so entirely Poe, the eye for poetry in the mundane? Parts that I secretly loved about him. Parts that I wanted so deeply to see in myself and who longed to live a romantic life, too.

He turns to me, his moss eyes looking like a meadow at midnight. “Not at all. It’s… comforting. To know that I’m not alone. That we’re connected. Sometimes I worry that the loneliness will swallow me whole until you remind me that you’re with me in the shadows.”

His hands fist and stretch, making them look as if they’re inching closer to me. I watch as his eyes focus on Paxton, who is laughing with a group of our classmates.

“Madeline says the Poes were made for darkness, that our best selves wait only past the edges of the light. But Paxton doesn’t. His personality shines in the spotlight of the world. He was meant to stand at the precipice and lead. But I’m not like that. I scribble away truths most people want to forget, just so they can’t. I yearn for what could be and bleed it into what is. No one follows me into the black recesses of existence,” he says on a sigh before his words turn to me. “So, you, you must be the keeper of my best self. The only other one I see when I feel at my best. My own personal darkness,” he finishes.

The shouts and laughter have faded away and all I can see is Oliver’s soft smirk leaning towards me. My heart is sitting somewhere beneath my toes as I scramble for what to say. I want to wrap him in the inky black galaxies of my arms and transport us away to the stars. I want to sink the boat that is this party into the depth of a quiet ocean just meant for us, smiling while we drown. Even so, no words come out .

He’s everything when he says things like this, when he looks at me as he does now. I forget we’re just friends. Forget our vows of found family. I forget my crush on Tyler. Forget my mother’s voice telling me I don’t fit in. Forget Ally’s threats and Paxton’s frowns. I forget everything that tells me loving Oliver Poe is a mistake. All I know in moments like these is that he is air, and without him, I cannot breathe.

“OLLLLIVVEERRRR!”

The distinct pitch of Ally McVie shatters the moment as she calls Oliver’s name from across the fire. She’s walking toward us, two cups in her hand, straight blonde hair dancing around her shoulders. Right behind her, I can see the broad shoulders of Tyler, following. She skips from foot to foot, kicking rocks and sand from between her flip-flops, as Tyler laughs. I wish she’d catch a sharp one in her toes to bring her down.

I never feel as violent as I do when she waltzes into the picture, ruining things.

If he’s irritated by the interruption, you would never know. Oliver greets them effortlessly, like the moment was just waiting for their presence to take shape. His body remains curled toward mine, but his face tilts just enough to meet her call.

“Hey Tyler. Al. Heard you’ve had a rough night,” he doesn’t ask, just states it as fact.

Ally’s eyes shine in the flickering orange. Her makeup is light, clearly worn off and cleaned up again. Her cheeks are redder than normal, and by the tiny hiccups she is having trouble swallowing, probably already drunk. She nods, causing her hair to stick against the gloss of her mouth.

“I was hoping we could talk. I really need a friend right now,” she pouts.

Tyler moves around her and settles on the other side of me.

“Hey Eve,” he hums, sounding more sober than Ally by far.

“Hey Ty.” I tilt my chin to my shoulder and smile.

I catch the frown that pulls on Oliver’s mouth even though he doesn’t move, his hands planted on the rough scraps of wood we’re sitting on. He sighs, barely audible enough for me to hear. I know this hesitation. It’s the same one he uses when Madeline asks him to perform some work he’s written in front of her admirers. He doesn’t want to be rude—doesn’t want to embarrass Ally, but he also despises the task. He’d rather fade into the background of this night, another faint outline in her memory, instead of the standout event she’s trying to make him. As if she knows him too, she holds out one of the plastic cups she’s gripping in her hand.

“I even brought you a drink! A gift for… being such a great listener.”

She’s pleading and I hate the way her mouth trembles. Hate the way Oliver misses nothing. His eyes dart from Tyler to me before he lifts his hand, takes the drink, and sniffs. It looks to be the Spootie—a disgusting mixture of fruit that’s been drowned in whatever bottom barrel liquor high schoolers can get their hands on. I cannot take another moment of this polite disaster.

“Sorry, Al . Oliver doesn’t drink,” my voice takes on a righteousness I seldom use.

It’s one of the few reasons I agreed to come tonight. Oliver and I both don’t drink. We’ve known and seen too much to dabble like the others. And not being the odd one out at a party full of drunks is comforting. Special. Something I wouldn’t be able to handle Ally taking away from me. Before she can respond, Paxton stumbles up, hurling his arm around Ally’s shoulders, throwing her arm off balance and sloshing part of her drink into the dirt.

“Al! You found him! All is back to rights in your world again, sweet peach! Hey, Ty!” He sings.

I’m pretty sure he’s had at least another drink in his absence, but if Oliver is going to let it go, who am I to interfere? Ally glares at Paxton.

“Actually, it’s not. I brought your brother a gift and apparently, he’s lost all sense of his manners.” She smiles sweetly back at Oliver. “Come on, Oli, just a sip! I made that one myself.”

She’s petulant. A child in a store with a toy that isn’t yet hers. She thinks if she gets him to drink, if she convinces him once that she’s worth loving, he’ll cave. I’ve never been worried I’d lose Oliver to Ally. Someone like her could never truly understand him. But he’s staring at her longer now, staying silent when he should be politely declining.

Tyler brushes my hip, trying to get my attention. I turn to him as he points out someone stumbling into the bushes, demanding to sleep amongst the pines. Idiots. When I turn back, Oliver is staring at Tyler’s hand, resting, touching me. He shoots his now folded brows back to the drink. Paxton laughs, seeing the indecision in his brother.

“C’mon, brother! It won’t bite. One night will not kill you. Promise,” he says.

Paxton wants Oliver to let loose. To let go of the tragedy he carries. I just want to help him shoulder the burden. I plead, every thought in my head screaming for him not to take that drink. But he doesn’t hear the silent screams. Or doesn’t want to . He tips the cup into his lips and downs the entire thing in one long swallow.

The universe stills as I lose another piece of Oliver Poe.