Page 26 of Blood Moon

Every war I’d seen, she’d seen twice.

Article VI, Lost Letters from Aadan the First

At the end of a cul-de-sac was a one-story house with gray siding and black shingles.

Cars were parked bumper to bumper up and down the barely lit street, and students were scattered everywhere in twos and threes.

A group of them lay in the grass, glancing up at the starlit, foggy sky while they laughed incoherently.

Some lounged in the driveway against bumpers, while others tossed a ball around.

A handful of them were packed on the porch, listening to two people tell a story.

Their eyes rimmed red. Their cheeks raised in laughter.

Inside, primary colors bounced off the wall from small lights, adding a glow to the darkened house, and the bass scratched at my ears. There were bodies in every possible corner of this home. Dancing. Laughing. Holding plastic cups.

Smoke clouded the air in puffs, and each inhale made me feel like I could float.

I held Em and Naomi’s hands tightly as we navigated through the house, and they held onto Stevie and Abi.

We bumped into people while we moved, and at times, it felt like we were glowing.

The lights illuminated the apples of our cheeks and our button noses; the gloss on our lips shined slick like ice; our skin shimmered like diamonds.

And at once, I found myself splitting in two. In one corner of the house was Seven, in the other corner Julian. They traced these walls like the Earth and the moon. In the liminal space between, I felt like the tide, being pulled in and out.

In darkness, Julian’s hair masked the sides of his face as he raised a cup to his lips. He leaned against a wall next to his friends, inhaling smoke.

Underneath a track of bright lights was Seven. He spotted me immediately, waving me toward him with a smile so wide it made my heart flutter.

I went to him, moving quickly through the crowd. Abi and Stevie broke away, but Naomi and Em followed.

Seven stood with some of his teammates as they exchanged commentary on the winning play of the game. When Em and Naomi joined their conversation, their body language changed, welcoming them in like they’d known them forever. I breathed a little easier after that.

“There she is!” Seven opened his arms, wrapping me in a hug. He was so warm and large, I felt swallowed by him. In a swift move, he grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. The feeling made my stomach hurt. It was a good kind of pain.

He whispered, lips stopping at the tip of my ear, “I wondered if you’d come. I was surprised to see you at the game.”

“A good surprise or a bad surprise?” I pulled away to see the sparkle in his eyes.

His lips spread wide, and he broke our gaze to say, “A good one,” as if looking away from me made it all the more true.

“Then my job here is done. I guess I can leave now and forever rest in peace,” I said, turning away, but he brought me back to him, curls flopping as he laughed. I joined him, laughing until we were both smiles. He observed me, truly seeing me, and I twitched from the closeness.

I pushed my hair behind my ear, glanced away. “You were great out there.” And he was. The way he moved, dived, threw, it was mystical. Had Bobby witnessed it, he would have been impressed.

“Couldn’t have done it without the team, but honestly, it’s one of my favorite places to be. The field is a different beast, but it’s mine, you know? I feel lucky.”

“You are lucky.”

“I mean … this is also a favorite place to be. Here, next to you.”

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 be this close? 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.”

Annoyed, and half-ready for a challenge, I finished the drink and crushed the cup into his chest. Before I could say anything else, we were both being pulled by Stevie from the kitchen to the living room where a circle was forming.

In the center, on a paisley rug, was an empty liquor bottle. It was already spinning when I finally understood that we’d been summoned to play seven minutes in heaven.

I sighed, pinched the bridge of my nose and tipped my head back as I mumbled a string of awful words beneath my breath.

The first person to spin was a Black girl with a short curly fro and a sparkling headband.

When the bottle stopped spinning, it landed on a person with bleach blonde hair across from her.

They held each other’s gaze before squealing and being escorted to a closet that was located off the living room by the entryway. Once shut inside, the person guarding the door shouted for them to set a timer.

While we waited, the circle passed around a bottle of cheap wine, and I wondered who provided all the liquor. It was hard to distinguish, but one thing I knew for sure was that the circle grew with more people by the minute, making the space feel smaller and smaller.

I tried to ignore the fact that Julian was a few spots away, talking to someone with chestnut hair and mesmerized eyes.

She fawned over him, grabbing a lock of his hair and twirling it between her fingers.

When she laughed at something he said, I felt a pang of jealousy—unsure why because he wasn’t even funny.

But the way he focused on her pulled her into some kind of reverie.

Her face warmed with shades of scarlet, and I squeezed my hands into fists, the nails digging into my palms as I speculated what those golden eyes would look like if he possessed a heart that could fall in love.