“His eyes search the crowd until they find my face. My heartbeat lives in my throat; lives in my cheeks.”

-Insurgent

Oliver is still sitting the same way: his arms around me, holding me close like if he let me go, I’d go away.

I won’t.

I gaze at his face. His blonde hair looks soft, his eyes are fixed on me, his lips are still curled in a smile, and with his arms around me and my heart beating too fast, I am jealous of the fact that he has so much effect on me. I need to have the same effect on him.

Oliver is smiling. Should I count that?

“So you say you know what’s going on,” I say.

“I have known for a long time.” His arms around me tighten. I shudder a little. This is so unfair.

I hope his heart is beating as fast as mine.

“What do you know?” I whisper, almost. I am too scared.

“I see you,” Oliver whispers back.

I release a breath I have been holding for so long. “And I see you too,” I reply.

Oliver’s face softens in the gleaming moonlight. Then I remember something, and it doesn’t make me happy.

“But-” I look back at the beer bottles that are in the corner. Oliver is drunk. So everything he has been saying, it’s not him. This soft smile and his arms around me is because he’s drunk.

Oliver is only sharing his feelings with me because he is intoxicated. He would have never done this if he was sober.

I feel hurt. So I look down, suddenly not wanting to see his face.

This is all a lie. This is a scam. Oliver won’t remember this.

I feel Oliver’s palm on my face. He makes me look at him. “I am not drunk Gwen. I don’t know who left those bottles.”

I say, “But you said-”

“Did I?” Oliver asks back.

I try to remember. No he didn’t say he was drunk. Hr asked me back if I was.“Oh.”

“And I know you are not drunk either,” Oliver states.

“How would you know?” I say, raising my eyebrow.

“Well, you still haven’t decided to jump into the pool from here, so that says something,” Oliver says with a straight face.

I smack on his arm. “Hey! I’m offended!”

Oliver shrugs. “I mean, that’s not impossible. I am pretty sure you would have done that.”

“Don’t forget I’m a vampire. I’m going to bite you, just laugh at me again!” I warn.

Oliver’s eyes bore into mine and flash. “Really?”

I stare into his dark eyes and forget to breathe. “Yes.”

Oliver pulls me a little closer. “And where would you like to bite me, Gwen?” he asks darkly.

Oh crap. I am getting played by my own words.

“Umm, your nose seems like a nice choice,” I say, unsure of myself.

Oliver’s eyes twinkle. It’s the same look he had before he dropped me in the pool the other day. The look of mischief.

Oliver pulls me closer. Our noses almost touch. “I don’t think you can do that now.”

“Why?” I say, almost shakily. I place my hand over his chest, trying to trace his heart beat, just to make sure I’m not in this alone.

“Because,” Oliver says, and his nose brushes my jawline.

I made a sound I haven’t even made when I was in a relationship.

Well. I-

His nose traces further down my neck.

“Because wh-hh-a-” I try to speak.

Keyword: Try.

His breath falls on my shoulder, “Because I-”

His lips are so close to my ear. I am trying to keep myself steady. If I hadn’t been holding him for support, I would have fallen straight down from the roof.

Then Oliver softly bites where my neck meets my shoulder. I shudder. Then he presses his lips where he just bit.

I think I’m high. And I am also dreaming.

Oliver leans back and looks at my face. I think I look like a statue.

“Exactly what I was looking for,” Oliver comments.

I am still trying to catch my breath and steady my heartbeat.

“Are you a cannibal?” I ask shakily.

“No, Gwen. I am a vampire,” Oliver says, smirking.

“You just bi-bit me!” I say.

Oliver smirks, “Are my canines sharp enough?”

I touch where he bit me and try to look at it. Oliver glances at his work as well. I glance at Oliver. He looks satisfied.

“I-I-”

“Yeah? You seem to be pretty speechless tonight,” Oliver says.

Son of a-

I really am speechless, “You are doing all the talking anyways.”

Oliver wraps his arms around me again. “Well, someone is rubbing off on me, don’t you think?”

It’s my time to be smug, “What did I say, stay with me I’ll drag you down to the gutter.”

“Ironic, since I was already there,” Oliver says, his eyes still dilated.

I gulp. I trace my hand on his jacket, looking for his heart.

“What are you doing, Gwen?” Oliver grabs my wrist.

“Looking for your heart,” I reply.

“It’s missing,” Oliver replies.

I stare at him. “Why?”

Oliver’s expression changes. “Because I was not careful enough.”

His words hit home. Somehow I understand what he means. Somehow I know how it feels to have a missing heart.

“I will find it,” I say softly.

Oliver blinks. “And what will you do with it?”

“Keep it with mine, safe and sound,” I say. smiling.

This time, I feel Oliver shudder underneath me. “Gwen.”

“Yeah, I’m right here,” I reply.

Oliver cups my face with his hands. His forehead brushes mine. His eyes are closed.

I think my heart is going to explode. That’s what it feels like.

I gulp, watching him, closed eyes and right in front of me.

I don’t deserve this. I can’t keep this. This is too good for me. I-

“Haunted house!” I say suddenly.

“What now?” Oliver leans back, looking at me.

“Haunted house. We should go to a haunted house,” I suggest. “It’s Halloween, it’s late at night. We should go!”

I shake Oliver.

“And she’s back,” Oliver mumbles.

“Hey, I can hear you,” I say accusingly.

“You were supposed to,” Oliver replies. He stands up and holds out his hand for me. I take it gladly.

We walk down the roof and find the ladder. I climb down after Oliver.

“You sure it’s open now?” Oliver asks, following me down the stairs. The party seems to have died down.

I look at his hands in mine, like it’s nothing, like Oliver isn’t just walking with me side by side, holding my hand and agreeing to my weird plan to go to the haunted house in the middle of the night.

He thinks he is the only one who can be a match for what you do.

I remember Jason’s words. I smile.

“Yes, it’s open,” I assure Oliver.

“Alright,” Oliver replies.

As we reach downstairs, I look for Jason. “I left him here somewhere.”

Oliver looks around as well.

“I think he left,” I say, suddenly remembering I left him to have his chance with a girl.

“Looks like he did,” Oliver replies.

The party is dead. I don’t see many people around. I see a guy sleeping on the couch. Some people are chatting here and there. Everyone looks bummed out. I don’t see Owen’s squad anywhere.

“Okay, let’s go then. It’s just you and me now.” I shrug, turning around.

“Yeah, I guess.” Oliver squeezes my hand.

Oliver vowed to kill me tonight. That’s for sure.

We walk out of the house, onto the sidewalk. It reminds me of the night I dragged him out to have a midnight adventure with me. I smile. I look at Oliver.

He replies with his eyes tracing down my face.

The thing about Oliver is, I want to know more. I always want to know more. If I have a PhD on him, I will still want to know more.

“How was it when you guys were little? Surely you and Owen weren’t fighting even then?” I ask, looking at him.

“We are not fighting,” Oliver replies. “We don’t fight.”

“Okay, but then why this unspoken rivalry?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound too nosy.

“I like to ignore him. He likes to taunt me,” Oliver shrugs.

I wiggle my brows. Owen is known for being nice. But maybe he is not that nice.

“It’s my problem, I guess, not his. He’s always been the best at everything. Studies, sports, making friends, treating others nicely, everything,” Oliver says. “I have tried to follow him, to be my best, but it never worked out.”

“I don’t think so. You are-” Oliver shakes his head and continues.

“I always worked so hard when I was a bit younger, to get the same fond smile from my mother, to get the same approving look from my father. But I failed, every time. And -”

Oliver stops abruptly as if he realised he is sharing way too much than he should. He looks at me.

“You can tell me anything, Oliver,” I place my hand on his arm. “I am never going to judge.”

Oliver nods. “I know.”

Then he sighs.

“Well, I am sorry to say this but it was shitty of your parents not to treat you well,” I say as I feel angry.

“I don’t know. They expected the same from me. I didn’t fulfill their expectations.” Oliver shrugs.

This guy.

“And what did Owen do about all of this?” I ask.

Oliver snorts. “Owen.”

I guess Owen hasn’t been kind to Oliver like he has to other people. I am going to punch him in the gut next time I see him.

“He enjoys it, I think, to see me fail,” Oliver says. “There was this one time, he won this certificate from this competition, and he laminated it and posted it on the fridge. So every time I walk in the kitchen, it rubs in my face.”

I scrunch my nose up in disgust. Seriously.

“In fact, all of his certificates, his medals, his sport cups, all that is showcased like valuable items,” Oliver says.

“In your house? I have never seen it,” I say.

“No,” Oliver says. “In my dad’s house. He has a room only for that.”

That hurt. I am not even Oliver.

I look at him in utter surprise. How does he even take it? I feel like I need to be hugged for what I just heard.

“And we are at the haunted house.” Oliver points.

“How do you even-” I start.

“It’s okay.” Oliver shrugs.

“No! It’s not,” I protest. “How-”

“Shh,” Oliver says, “We are going to pretend we never had this conversation. Now let’s see if your haunted house can haunt me.”

Oliver strides forward, leaving me behind. I stare at his back. I take a lungful of breath, and it hurts.

I have an older brother too. He is amazing as well. But my parents have never treated me like I am not worth it, like I am not doing enough. They are disappointed in me now because yeah, I’ve been slipping, but that’s something different.

I try to imagine how much pain Oliver has been carrying around because he has never seen that fond smile from his mother or that approving look from his father. I can’t.

“You coming or what?” Oliver calls.

“Yeah.” I shake my head and start forward.

No wonder, Oliver’s heart is missing. I will find it and I will keep it safer than my own.

*****

We walk in and buy our tickets. There are not many people around. I see two more teenagers.

Then I look up at the house in front of me, lit up by red lights. It sure looks scary. I gulp.

“It was your idea,” Oliver whispers in my ear, propelling me forward.

I turn to look at him and mask my fear, “I am not scared.”

“Sure,” Oliver says with his expressionless face. But I can feel him smirking.

I roll my eyes and enter. So does Oliver. The door falls shut behind us and all of a sudden the sound from outside is blocked. There is no light. I am standing in utter darkness. I take a step back. My back hits Oliver’s chest, which reminds me I am not alone.

It is too dark for me to see. I feel Oliver’s breath on my shoulder.

Fuck.

I would’ve never known a haunted house could make me feel so many emotions. My pulse is dancing, my stomach is twisted for what’s to come, and Oliver’s hot breath on my shoulder is not helping.

“Let’s go.” Oliver places both of his warm hands on my shoulder, and I take a sharp intake of breath.

I thought this would be fun. This is not fun. This is something else.

We walk together, and we see blue lights ahead of us. We enter the first room. I blink as my eyes adjust to the dim blue lights. I look behind at Oliver, his golden hair shining, his face emotionless.

Yet, he looks better than anyone else I have laid my eyes on.

I hear a sound and I snap my head forward.

A clown. He looks hideous.

Thankfully I am not afraid of clowns. Oliver takes my hand. I shrug it off. He thinks I’m afraid. I need to show him, I’m not. Not of the clown, no.

Then behind the clown is another clown. Then pops another one. They surround the room. They block the exit.

I am a little bit afraid. They won’t touch us. I know it. They won’t do anything.

But they are blocking the exit. How so?

I turn around and I notice a little black door. One of the clowns laughs.

I walk towards the door with my trembling legs. The clowns laugh louder.

It’s a mocking laugh. They are mocking me. They always mock me.

I never wanted to be mocked. I don’t want others to laugh at me. Ever.

Tears well up my eyes. I open the door. I get out. Oliver follows.

A tear slips down my face. God. What’s wrong with me?

I wipe it quickly before Oliver can see it.

I look forward. Two doors stand in front of us.

“Hmm,” I mumble. The doors are identical. Which one to choose?

“Left or right?” I ask him. “How about you go to one and I the other?”

This room is darker and there’s no light.

“No,” Oliver says quickly,“You are with me.”

“Is that so?” I lend my hand forward like a zombie because I can’t see where Oliver is. I hit him in the chest with my left hand, he takes hold of my wrist and pulls.

“Yes,” Oliver whispers.

Tonight is crazy. We are out of our minds.

I try to touch his cheek but end up touching his lips. Oliver makes a sound of surprise.

My heart rate picks up like crazy. Soft like rose petals, his lips.

I don’t know what I’m doing. Oliver holds my wrist, pulls it down.

“We need to-” he says urgently, and literally picks me off the ground. I yelp. He shoulders a door and we are in.

*****