Page 17 of Blood Moon

You were my enemy before you ever were my friend.

Article II, Lost Letters from Aadan the First

It was the air stirring and the easy silence that woke me.

I’d been accustomed to the distant sound of chatter roaming the narrow halls.

Door hinges creaking. A faint beeping of a coffee maker.

Yet the lack of those very things caused me to panic.

I checked the time in a frenzy. I’d overslept, and at this rate I only had about fifteen minutes to get to class when it would simply take that much time to walk there.

My eyes welled as I pulled on a pair of worn jeans and the closest shirt I could find—an oversized faded thing that once belonged to Bobby.

I knew it was trivial, but I was never late to anything.

It was the one thing I had sole control over, and as I unwrapped my hair, gently combing through the ends, my lips quivered.

Shit. What would the consequences be? I’d been too distracted in class to know—which was so typical for this entire damned week.

Right now, I needed whoever was pulling the strings to please just cut me a fucking break. Look at me, I’m a mess.

I bolted out of Hester Hall and into the blinding light of the morning sun, disturbing the mass of students that strolled peacefully along the Campus Center. It was hard to pretend like I didn’t see their horrid stares. But for once, I didn’t care if they saw me cry. This—this was important to me.

Once inside the Lansing Building, I sprinted to the door until I came to a halt. A beat, and over my labored breath I could hear the professor going on about something mundane.

Gradually, I pried the door open just enough to slip inside, finding a seat in the back.

“Therefore, I apologize for delaying this, but if you will direct your attention toward the screen, I’d like you to get into pairs and answer these history-themed questions as a means to get to know each other.”

I sank into the chair with an exasperated sigh.

This was a test of how long it’d take before I pulled out every strand of hair on my head.

I had thought— hoped —we were past the icebreakers.

At this point in our lives, did we really need to know our peers?

Had I known this was today’s assignment, I’d have gladly overslept.

But no. Why would I be given such grace?

Students shifted as small chatter broke out across the room.

A look to my left and to my right confirmed the closest person to me was two rows down.

They turned in their seat, probably realizing what I had, and as the universe would have it, looking up at me with an undeniable bitterness was Julian Santos.

A laugh belted out of me on impulse, and I threw my head back, really truly cackling at the shitshow that was my life. What a cruel, cruel flip of the coin.

I plopped into the chair next to him, exhaling loudly as another laugh came. This was all so absurd. “How delightful,” I grumbled, digging through my bag to grab paper and pen.

Julian was reserved and stiff in his chair, refusing to acknowledge my presence. Prick. And it wasn’t like I wanted to look at him, like I wanted to be close to him, but this was a university class, and I’d always been an overachieving student.

The more I deliberated this new set of circumstances, the more I realized it could work in my favor. Julian had answers. While I still wanted to curse the skies for this forsaken morning, I could at least thank whoever’s up there for this opportunity.

“So,” I started, marking down the date on my paper. “Where are you from?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. But I wanted to pace myself, ease my way in.

Julian pushed his hair back. Embedded above the planes of his cheeks was a blooming deep violet. A sign he lacked sleep. Had all those bad decisions kept him awake? An assumption, of course. Or had he stayed up past dusk to contemplate all the ways to make my life hell?

I awaited an answer that never came, observing him all the while.

Long lashes. Pouty lips. Something tantalizing about him.

If he hadn’t been so horrendous each time we were near each other, perhaps there’d be a version of me that viewed him in a different light.

I could see it all so clearly because, even in the wake of his heartlessness, he was mesmerizing in a way that crawled down my throat, twisted at something inside.

His silence was testing me. “Well?” I pressed fervently, and then I backpedaled. My impatience would only get me so far. I softened my voice, forced a smile. “Where did you say you were from?”

“Here,” he said. It was cold and cruel, expectant.

The curve to my smile ticked as I scribbled down his response, pressing the pen so intently, I felt a warmth in my palm.

“Cool. Same.” The words were mumbled, but they were there.

Though, Julian hadn’t written anything down, and every breath he took was clipped.

I was moments from going over the invisible edge.

Should we carry on this way, it’d be nearly impossible for me to get any answers at all.

I tried to talk myself out of the bubbling frustration, tried to bite down my disdain to put up with him, but as my eyes darted around the room, there was a stark difference between the other pairs and us.

When I caught the eyes of the teacher’s assistant, I wondered if we’d be graded on participation points.

The last thing I wanted was to fail due to his pissy attitude.

“Look,” I said, breaking the vow of peace I’d made. “We can’t just not talk to each other. It defeats the purpose of the entire activity.”

Still, he remained motionless, eyes locked ahead. I sucked my teeth.

Be the bigger person, be the bigger person. But I closed my notebook, dropped the pen, and interlaced my fingers. I was, in fact, not being the bigger person.

“Since you refuse to speak, I suppose I’ll ask all the questions. Why’d you get pulled out of high school your junior year?” I dug, venturing now to poke the bear. Any reaction was better than utter silence.

Julian looked at me sharply. A flash of something there. But then he turned away again.

I sighed. “Were you born a dick, or has that personality trait come naturally for you?”

He smirked. Progress.

“Why are you so adamant that I leave LLU? Are you scared of me? Did I destroy your ego in a past life and that’s why you can’t stand to look at me?”

Nothing.

“Entertain me, Julian. I’m right here. Tell me, how does me leaving benefit you, since you want it so badly?”

“It doesn’t benefit me at all,” he said, still refusing to meet my eyes.

I didn’t believe him. Every conversation we’d had, he’d made it crystal clear that he didn’t want me here, that it wasn’t safe, so how would me leaving not benefit him? He needed to make it make sense.

I clenched my jaw, trying to bite down the rage the clawed at my skin.

“ Please .” I dropped my voice. “At the very least, can you tell me why it’s not safe for me here?

” That was the real answer I wanted. “If this was truly about my safety, I deserve to know what’s coming.

A threat like that is entirely too large to walk away from, but you did—you have , twice.

I need answers. You have to give me something.

” A blink and a shrug, and I snapped, banging my fist onto my notebook. “What did I do to you?!”

Julian pivoted; the suddenness brought a draft that made me flinch. He leaned in with a look so close and scalding, my face burned. I had to turn away from him. “You got to play your little game, and now it’s my turn to speak. Look at me,” he demanded, but I refused.

His voice lowered. “ Look at me …” I was compelled, turning to face him.

I was met with a sneer. “I want you to see me when I tell you this because I’ll only say it once.

You did everything. Your miserable existence is my demise.

The longer you stay here, the more I hate you.

And there is nothing you can do— besides leaving —that will change that.

You have been warned, Mirabella. Do you understand?

” He said it with a madness I’d never seen in anyone but myself.

But there was no chance to respond; he’d fled, taking all his things.

My vision blurred into a blankness, still staring at where he’d been as tears fell sloppily onto my cheeks. It was the first moment where I truly wished I’d packed my things, left, and never returned.