Page 75 of Blood Moon
“I extremely doubt that,” he said, grinning as he watched the open road. “Wearefriends, right?” He was serious about the idea of being friends, something I found peculiar, considering it had to be his last choice. Yet the more I sat with it, the more I came around to the concept. We knew things about each other we wouldn’t dare whisper to a soul. Secrets made friends. Consequently, I supposed that’s what this was.
I curled my lips. “We are,” I said, and when I released that truth to the universe, Julian looked at me, eyes striking with the light of the sun. It was a memory I wanted to hoard. A glimpse I’d think about obsessively, persistently until it was singed into my bones.
With a press of the play button, we were surrounded by an electric guitar and heavy drums. Julian reached for his shades, and I shouted the words to the song off-key while I flailed my hands through the sunroof, causing a riot. I allowed him to keep his windows down, although it was sure to ruin my hair, and he let me play the entire album.
Compromise.
We grabbed food from a local burger joint, and then Julian had an idea. Before I knew it, we were sitting on the hood of his car at a local park. Above the treetops, we beheld the fall-stricken university, covered in vast shades of green and orange and yellow, teeny tiny people meandering the paths below.
I had devoured my last fry and was slowly reaching over to Julian’s when he narrowed his eyes on my hand. That look—it reminded me of when he mentioned how he was always hungry, how nothing satisfied him.
“It’s fine. You can have some,” he said, but I’d already retracted my fingers. “Go on,” he offered, holding the bag toward me. “You know you want to.” I exhaled and grabbed a few fries while Julian chuckled. “There’s still a lot I don’t know about you, Mira. For example, you’re a fry thief.”
I shrugged. “It’s a tax my friends must pay.”
He smiled and bowed while holding up the fries. “I’m honored to be under your ruling, Madam.”
“As you should be,” I said, neck taut, nose pitched toward the sky as I swiped two more fries. With one in hand, I crafted an imaginary sword. Right shoulder, left shoulder, declaring him a knight. “It is done,” I proclaimed, handing him the fry. When Julian lifted his head, he made a face but took it anyway. We laughed, and then I wiped my hands, saying, “There’s still plenty I don’t know about you … besides the very obvious fact that you’re a werewolf.”
A crooked smile appeared. “Ah. There’s that minor detail.”
“Massive,”I corrected.
“Are you deflecting again?”
“Maybe.”
“What are you studying?” Julian asked.
I scrunched my nose. “Those are the kinds of questions that lead to dead ends.”
“According to you, a day ago, we weren’t even friends, and now general questions aretoosurface level for you?” Julian finished the rest of his fries and took a swig of his drink. “That’s not confusingat all.”
“I’m under no obligation to make sense to you, Julian.”
“Or anyone.” He laughed, and I poked him, hitting a rib. When we settled, he leaned back, palms pressed to the hood of the jeep. “Here’s a question … what’s your deepest, darkest secret?”
“Julian,” I said, gawking. “God.I didn’t mean dive headfirst into the deep end.” Stevie and I hadn’t even discussed that yet. I figured he’d ask me about my hopes and dreams, not about the things that made me feel haunted and hollow.
“What, are you too afraid to share with a little wolf like me?” he teased, and I pouted, rolling my eyes. It was true. I was afraid to share with him. Afraid of how he’d perceive me because of it. But when I examined the sky, the sun had gone somewhere far west behind us. Fixed in its place: the moon.
The moon.
It wasonlyever a phase of itself, relentlessly changing until completeness. Even then, the darkest shadows formed the illusion that it was small again. Odd to think that, really, it was always whole.
So even if I shared the deepest, darkest secret I had, I knew it was only a quarter of me. Speaking it aloud wouldn’t leave me marred. And if Julian could reveal a part of him that was intended to be hidden forever, I could share a part of me that was only hidden by choice.
It was my silence that made him hesitate. “Mira, you … you don’t need to share anything you’re not comfortable with. I apologize for the added pressure; I just want to get to know you, that’s all.”
“No, it’s fine,” I promised. “I want to,” I said, and I fiddled with my fingers as I tried to string together the words I wanted to say. They stuck to the bottom of my throat, unwilling and stubborn. A swallow, and I looked to him. “I’ve never said this to anyone, never even said it out loud, but I am deeply afraid … that I am an unlovable person,” I uttered, hoping the lightness of my breath would mask my proclamation. Still, I felt the fracture in my chest, my spine bending at the weight of the truth.
I dropped my gaze, regretful and desperately trying to rewind time, to annihilate the words that split through the air. In regression, I observed Julian’s hands. Short, clean nails. Light brown skin. He moved them from the car to his lap, where he folded them together. It was the feeling of his eyes on me that tried to reel me in; he wanted me to see him, behold the look on his face as he spoke.
“Mira,” he started, reaching a thumb to my cheek. Fingers stroked my jaw, willing my gaze to his. Then, a gentle breath, before, “I cannot fathom a universe where someone like you could ever be unlovable.” When he dropped his hand, it found the top of mine. A tender, weighted reminder that he was here, speaking a different version of what I believed to be true.
Finally, my gaze found his. Soft, eager eyes staring into the depths of me, diving toward my center. “You’ve said otherwise,” I reminded, and I hadn’t meant to bring it up again, but what he’d stated, that day in class, had set me into an endless helix, and I believed every word, perhaps even before I’d met him.A miserable existence …
Julian moved closer, so close he was all I could see. “I didn’t know you the way I know you now.” He gulped, searching my face. “I regret what I said to you that day. It was idiotic, meaningless. I hadn’t considered that it would affect you like this, and I’m sorry.”
