Page 37 of Blood Moon
I flushed, and then I felt Em and Naomi approach. I stepped back to introduce them.
“You know Em, right?”
“Absolutely.” Seven gave her a big hug.
“And this is Naomi. She’s a business major.”
Seven tilted his head. “Swear. I think I’ve seen you before. I’m in business, too.”
“It’s impossible to miss you,” Naomi said, and when she went in to shake his hand, he held his arms open.
“Are you a hugger?”
“On a good day I am, so you’re in luck.” They shared a side hug, and while they did, she looked at me with a maniacal smile. “Congrats on the win,” Naomi said.
“Thank you.”
We listened to Seven tell a story about the game from his perspective. Between moments, he’d sneak a glance at me and smile wider.
Eventually, Stevie yelled for us, and then she and Abi were pulling at our arms, dragging us into the kitchen to watch someone do a keg stand.
On the way there, Naomi whispered to me, “I saw the way he smiled at you.” I shook my head and kept moving. She was right. I saw it, too.
We had Jell-O shots while we watched person after person be held into the air to drink more beer than they probably ever had in their lives.
Midway through, I felt a brush of air behind me. A presence that made my spine straighten. His voice was sultry like ash. “Hey.”
Julian stood incredibly close, leaning forward, his chest bumping my shoulder. I turned to catch a look, but his eyes were focused ahead, watching as the crowd cheered on the person hovering over the keg.
He took a sip of his drink before saying, “I’m surprised to see you here.”
I winced, squeezing my cup so tight, I heard the plastic crack. “Must you be so close?” I grumbled. “Why are you even here? I said what I said. You and your apology are worthless unless you tell me what I want to know.”
He laughed begrudgingly, small wrinkles appearing in the corners of his eyes. I hated how his proximity made me want to crawl into myself. Hated how he smelled bitter and sweet. Hated how he was so close I could feel the give of his ribs expanding for breath.
I scoffed. “Shouldn’t you be rejoicing over the fact that I’m finally off campus? Wasn’t that what you wanted—for me to leave?”
“It is,” he mumbled, only when I glanced at him this time, his eyes were soft, honey-like. I despised every absurd moment of it. How could he say that and bethisclose? Why be around me at all if he was going to continue to withhold information?
I sighed, already over the conversation. “Go away, Julian.”
For my sake, I ignored him after, continuing to watch the show before me while wondering where Naomi had gone off to.
After a few minutes, his breath tickled my neck. I had been laughing at an explosion of beer, almost forgetting he was a foot behind. “It’s good that you’re ignoring me. It’s better this way.”
Julian’s comment irritated me so much that I turned abruptly, bumping into his drink. Splashes landed on his shoes, and he stepped back. There was no trace of irritability in his expression. Instead, a grin spread slowly across his face, as though he liked seeing me flustered.
I grunted, my jaw locking. “What is up with you? Why are you so close to me? One second you say you’re not safe, and the other, you’re apologizing. You’re so hot and so cold, I don’t know how to perceive you,” I said, and I tried to push him away, but he caught my hand with his free one. His grasp was gentle, apart from a few callouses there.
“Mirabella,” he uttered, low and breathy. His grin faded, and a tightness eased in his shoulders. “I’m incredibly sorry. I am. I know I’ve been a jerk, and I’m working on not being a habitual ass.” He took a step forward, and I yanked my hand away from his grasp. He didn’t flinch, and he continued, “It’s been a hard tendency to break.”
I held onto my hand, trying to erase the feeling of his touch. “None of what you said explains why you’re suddenly being nice to me.”
A smug smile appeared as he went in for another swig. “Regrets,” he said, and then, “Maybe I’ve had a change of heart?”
I grabbed his cup before it reached his mouth, and it upset me how he didn’t even blink. He was expectant, waiting in some twisted joy as he watched me take a sip. My face soured, and my eyes twitched. It was straight bourbon—the kind my father would drink during hard winters.
Julian winked. “You’re welcome.”
