Page 14 of Blood Moon
“Brothers?” I asked. “How many siblings do you have?”
He raised his brows. “That’s right. You haven’t heard the story yet, huh? It’s actually how I got my name. My mother’s a bit of a superstitious woman. I was her seventh son, on her twenty-seventh birthday, so the name Seven seemed fitting.” He made the shape of a triangle with his hands. “Three sevens. It’s a perfect trinity.”
“Oh, wow,” I said, thinking that whoever Seven’s mother was, she deserved the biggest hug. “Andallboys?”
“Yeah. My parents got an early start, but there are also two set of twins in the family.”
“Kinda sounds like you’re a lucky guy—your family, too.”
“Luckiernow.”
I rolled my eyes, concealing a smile. Seven exhibited a mix of excitement with a nervous edge. “Do those kinds of lines make girls fold for you?”
“Not always, but I gotta shoot my shot,” he said, miming a free throw. “Plus, I’m hoping to leave a good impression. Is it working?”
“It’s hard to say,” I said, twisting my lips. Then he deepened his gaze, and I glanced away, looking at the people on the sidewalk around us.
“Does it make you nervous when I stare at you?”
I rolled my eyes. It did make me slightly uncomfortable. Not because it was strange, but because it was so warm in comparison to what had occurred before seeing him. The reminder made this innocent thing feel wrong.
I slowed to a halt in front of the Student Center—a large two-story building that held the dining hall, mail center, coffee shop, and study hall.
Seven paused, too, and I wondered where he was off to after this.
“Does it make you nervous when I stare atyou?” I said, being testy, but mostly because the banter was nice.
Seven twisted his lips until the bottom unfolded and he bit down on it. The sight did something to me, and I swallowed hard. He tilted his chin. “You can’t answer a question with a question. And …” he glanced at me almost shyly. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I tilted my head to the side. “Do I have to?”
“No,” he breathed, smiling slowly. “Just curious, is all. Speaking of … you should come to the game next Saturday. It’s the first of the season, and they go all out here. Plus, Coach said I’d get playing time.”
“Right. I almost forgot I was talking to a celebrity.”
He flushed a little, and it made me smile. He was nervous again.
“I’ll think about it,” I said definitively, and then a group of people passed us to go inside the Student Center. “Are you off to somewhere?”
“Yeah, practice actually.”
“Well, thanks for the walk and good conversation.”
He scrunched his face and took a few steps back. “Looks like I’ll catch you around, Mirabella.”
“Looks like you will … and it’s Mira.”
Another smile and a gentle wave. “See you around, Mira.”
“See you,” I said, matching his expression. And then he was off, down the sidewalk, fading into the body of students, but all I could hear was the sound of my name rolling off his tongue and the feeling he’d left behind. I wanted more of whatever it was he gave me.
Once inside the Student Center, I headed toward the mail center. I was aware of the possibility that I had nothing in my mailbox, but knowing who Bobby was, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d set up a care package as a reminder that he was only a drive away.
Past the student store, there was a narrow corridor and a wall lined with gold mailboxes, something that looked like it belonged in a different time period.
I found box 136 and entered the combination code. It came unlocked with a twist and a creak. Lying on the metal bottom was an ivory envelope. After a few seconds, I realized the absence of a return address. Instead, written in the loveliest script I’d seen in a long time was my name in the center:Mirabella Owens.
At this, I gasped, struggling to breathe in any air at all as my knees wobbled beneath me. The shaking in my hand wouldn’t stop as I read the words over and over again in utter disbelief. That craftsmanship. The fine tip pen. The delicate curves at the ends of the letters. This was the handwriting of my mother.
