“Do you think Poe would approve?” I put my hand on my hip.
Brandon’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “I think he’d roll over in his grave.”
I cringed at the word “grave” and grabbed my jacket before I headed out the door.
When we walked into the community room of the library, I was actually surprised to see about twenty to thirty people there, and most of them were dressed like me. Black was the big color of the night. Brandon looked comfy in his olive green cargo pants and black T-shirt. He always looked relaxed and comfortable. I, on the other hand, almost always felt stressed or self-conscious, but being around Brandon made a little bit of that go away.
I took in the decor of the community room. Spider webs had been strewn about the room with tiny spiders tucked in every corner. A few ravens were perched on top of the bookshelves. On the buffet table, there were plates of cookies in shapes inspired by Poe: ravens, skulls, typewriters. Centered in the middle of the table was an old-fashioned typewriter with a piece of paper in it that had the beginning of one of Poe’s stories typed out on it. There was a garland of skeleton keys roped around the windows. Stacks of Poe books were placed around the room, each stack topped with either a skull or rat or framed photo of Poe.
“I can tell you’re surprised it’s more than just you and me here.” Brandon leaned over and said to me. His breath was warm on my neck, and I felt an electrical surge on my skin.
“A little. But it’s cool. The decorations are awesome. And I can’t wait to eat one of those typewriter cookies.” I grabbed a cookie and got crumbs all down the front of my black shirt as I took a bite.
Brandon laughed heartily. “I like you, Marissa.” He said it in a way that was so matter of fact, like there was no question to it. It made my belly flip-flop. “They’re going to start the readings now. Let’s grab a seat.” He took my hand, and we walked over to the area of folding chairs.
A woman with straight, brown hair that went down to her waist walked up to the front of the room to the open area before the chairs. She pulled over a stool and sat down. She took out a pair of fifties-style reading glasses and put them on. Then she began to read a selection of Poe’s most famous poems. I had to admit, she was a bit intoxicating. Or maybe it was the incense that was burning in the room that made me feel a bit heady.
“So, did she read your favorite poem?” Brandon asked after taking a sip of blood-red punch.
“Is that your subtle way of trying to figure out my favorite?” I took a bite of my third typewriter cookie; they were so yummy.
Brandon’s eyes danced again. “You see right through me.”
He peered into my eyes, and I had to look away. His gaze made me feel so defenseless sometimes, a feeling I wasn’t comfortable with.
But being there, with him, without any pretenses or game plan, I wanted to let him know me, even if it was only a tiny piece of me. I took a deep breath before I spoke. “Dream within a dream,” I said.
Immediately he began quoting, “I stand amid the roar, Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand, Grains of the golden sand-, How few! yet how they creep, Through my fingers to the deep.”
His voice was vast, and it ran through every cell in my body, and I wanted to ignite into a flame. He must have noticed the dreamy look on my face because he continued after giving me a sly grin. “O God! can I not save, One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem, But a dream within a dream?”
He looked at me, his eyes were warm, and they seemed to sparkle like fresh snow in mid-afternoon sun.
I grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him toward me, and kissed him. There were a few whistles from the others in the room, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to feel the heat of his lips on mine, to feel his chest pressed against mine, and to embrace his hands that wrapped around my waist.
When our lips parted, he had a dreamy look on his face. “Okay, from now on I will only be quoting Poe each and every time we’re together.” He wiped fake sweat from his brow, and I playfully nudged him in his side.
He moved in to kiss me once more, but our kiss was interrupted when his cell phone buzzed loudly. “Man, the vibrate is as loud as the ringer,” he said as he pulled the phone from his pocket to check the text message. “My mom needs eggs.” He laughed. “Only my mom gets the urge to make brownies at nine o’clock on a Friday night. Oh, that reminds me. My mom wants to invite you and your family over for dinner. Is there a night that’s good for you guys?”
It was as if all the light bulbs in the room shattered around me. Everything seemed to go dark. My once-perfect moment of Brandon’s lips on mine was now entirely erased by his simple request to have dinner with my family. I dropped the typewriter cookie to the floor and grabbed at my stomach. As I put my hand to my mouth, I complained of feeling sick. Clutching my stomach, I impolitely excused myself to the bathroom, where I sat knobby-kneed wondering what in the world I was going to do now.
Chapter Fourteen
