Page 28 of Blood Moon

Adrift in you, I find solace.

Article VII, Lost Letters from Aadan the First

My head spun. A blur of color as I shuffled past bodies. There was a frantic need to flee, to find an empty space so I could sulk over what I’d done, over how I’d let myself become so full of wanting .

I charged through a door at the back of the house, walking onto a wooden deck that was dimly lit by strings of small, twinkling lights.

The night was tranquil and inviting, with no one here but me.

Beyond the porch was a fenced-in backyard that separated it from the neighboring houses, and I could hear a distorted version of the music that came from inside.

A cool breeze wrapped around me, brushed through my hair, caressed at my shoulder. It reminded me of him, and I held my hands to my face in mortification. You hate him, I declared. You hate him. You hate him. You hate him.

And I did. I do.

But when the door to the house opened and Julian appeared on the other side, I collapsed. He came forward in quick strides; the air caught in the back of my throat. There was no time to do, or think, or question anything. We could only be in this moment.

He raised me up, and I locked my legs around him.

The world cracked beneath us: a rabbit hole we’d sunken into.

In every way, this was wrong. In every way, this would end violently, but giving in never felt so satisfying.

We found ourselves crawling deeper into the pit we’d made, inching into an unforgiving darkness.

My hair flipped, creating a veil around us. I held his face beneath the slope of his ears, and when I kissed Julian, I was not gentle. I was feverish. Impatient. A fiery mess.

Julian’s grasp tightened around my waist, fingers at my hips, the low of my back, my thighs. He was wanting and greedy and didn’t understand how his marks stained me.

He kissed me like he was trying to create a dent in the universe, like he was trying to memorize the way I tasted for years after this, like he ached for me as much as I ached for him.

My body curved into the center of him; we fit together so perfectly. It was agonizing. An ecstasy seeped into my veins, burning the marrow in my bones. I was so frustrated by my behavior, only I couldn’t reconcile with morality. Not now.

Another kiss, and it was so deep, I forgot whose air I was breathing. I could only feel the thud of my chest pounding against his as he grabbed at me tenderly, longingly. Could only feel my head spinning into oblivion as he steadied me like an anchor in the waves, unmoving.

But this was Julian. Julian, whom I hated.

And perhaps he was reminded of this vow, too, because we broke away from each other. When he put me down, he pressed his thumbs into my cheeks, kissed me one last time before he let go.

“That was on my own accord,” he said, still close to me.

“No oath. No one telling me what to do. No game. This is me, starting with the truth,” he said, and it was different than any of the apologies he’d tried tossing in my direction.

Permanent enough that it caused a lump to form at the base of my throat.

He left me under the clouds and starlight, my hand raised to my mouth in astonishment.

As I walked back into the house, I could still taste him on my lips, sticky like honey.

A devilish thought, I knew, but I wanted so much more of it.

Because what we were in the twilight was simple.

And what we were in this crammed house was anything but.

My friends found me as soon as I entered the living room.

“Mira!” Stevie sang. “We were looking for you everywhere.” She glanced past my shoulder toward the hallway I’d come from and then back to me.

A devious smile appeared on her face. “I’ll ask later,” she said, and she handed me a small plastic cup filled with something.

“Cheers to a day filled with some of my favorite people,” she said, and we threw the drinks back.

Naomi swooped in after, placed her hands on my shoulders. “ Love triangle ,” she whispered.

“I’m not in love with anyone,” I said, and despite my feelings of confusion, I knew that was true.

Naomi smirked and then skipped away from me. “We’ll see!” she shouted.

When I turned back around, Stevie gave me a look. “What was that about?”

“She thinks I’m in love with two boys.”

“And are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

She searched my face with a quizzical expression, grabbed my hand, and pulled me through the crowd. “I think it’s officially ‘later.’”

There were two open seats on the couch—well, just barely. It was beside a couple that was tangled together, adrift in a world of their own. The sight didn’t bother me as much as it normally would have.

In front of us, Abi and Naomi sat before a hookah pipe, smoke rings chasing each other back and forth.

“I’m really happy we’re roommates,” Stevie started, easing into the couch. “I know my practice schedule is chaotic, but I enjoy being around you, even when you keep to yourself. You’re good-natured, Mira, and we need more people like you in the world.”

I looked down, surveyed her hands. Short, white nails against deep brown skin. Thin gold bands, turquoise. The distraction gave me time to deflect. If Stevie really knew the depths of my soul, would she still regard me as a good person?

I was aware of my flightiness, the spaced-out glare I wore too often.

The considerable number of times I’d visualized walking off the edge of a bridge and free-falling into thick fog—to be alone, leave my worries behind.

It didn’t matter how much I wanted to do the right thing, how much I wanted to stand up for injustice; there was a metronome within me that pulsed off-time.

I didn’t know why that was. I chalked it up to my selfish nature.

Even though she’d listen to every word I said, I didn’t convey any of that to Stevie. It seemed immoral. Instead, I said earnestly, “You’re so much of what I aspire to be, and I’m incredibly thankful we’re rooming together.”

Her bottom lip protruded while she held a hand to her chest. “Oh, my fragile beating heart,” she said, her words slurring a bit, and I laughed. She squeezed my hand, thanked me, and hurried to change the subject. “What were you doing on the back porch?”

I slid my hands down my face and stifled a groan. The memory clung to me like static, folding in my gut. It would be impossible for me to forget. That kiss would pester me for eternity.

Stevie poked me. “You can’t lie,” she said, and I groaned again. “I saw Julian follow you out there.”

“We kissed,” I admitted.

“Again?”

“No … we never did before. The closet was a waste,” I said, but not completely. The only good thing to come from it was a promise for the truth.

For a long while, Stevie was wordless, and the silence made me uncomfortable. She stared, face frozen in awe before she declared, “You are in love.”

“I’m not. Trust me.” I sighed. A kiss was a kiss, but at the thought, my throat tightened. Even love couldn’t convince Rena to stay. It was why I’d been hesitant about getting too close to anyone when there was a possibility that it could end in a tragedy. My life was full of them these days.

Stevie nudged me gently, made an annoyed sound. “But look at him.” She pointed across the room. Julian sat on the edge of a wooden end table; his shoulders slouched as he held a bottle of water in his hand. “He looks like he’s made of magic.”

Julian grinned on cue, as if he’d heard our exchange. It was a simple gesture, but it made everything inside me quake. He searched the crowd until his eyes found mine. It sent a stutter to my chest.

“ He does ,” I whispered, staring back at him, and he smiled again.

Everything after that was a haze. The drinks kept coming, and in a sudden stillness, I heard a whisper from a voice that sounded familiar, warning me to keep my guard up. Everything is a sign. Everything is a warning. Trust your instincts.

But all I saw were my friends smiling around me as we drank and danced and laughed into the wee hours of the night.

We bumped into bodies while we whirled in circles, holding onto each other like links.

Each blink was a flash of my life.

Naomi and I rushing into the bathroom to pee.

We ran into the threshold on the way in, tripping in space.

Naomi refused to wait for me to finish, so she went in the tub, and then she turned the water on to wash it away.

I laughed, and she tried to shush me, telling me I was too loud, too much.

But I couldn’t help myself, and I continued to cackle as we fixed our smeared makeup in the mirror.

Stevie teaching me a new dance. My timing was horrid. Whenever I moved my hips, I crashed into someone, causing a commotion until I ran away, pretending as if it had never happened. Stevie went running after me.

Abi and I rolling on the floor in laughter. We were red eyes and dry throats, and I wiped the tears from her face with my thumb, and she did the same. We couldn’t recall what was so funny. Just that she declared she loved me as we lay on ash and cups and the tips of people’s shoes.

Em throwing herself on top of us. An idea she considered brilliant until it knocked several people down. So many of us were tangled on the rug, limbs knotted, watching as the lights cast images on the ceiling while we giggled.

I yearned to stay etched in these moments, to cast a deal with Time, proclaim that I’d never belonged anywhere more than here, than now. For although I’d only known these girls fleetingly, already they were mine. And I was theirs.

The night was an endless, tilting thing, but it stopped spinning the moment I found myself weightless and drifting off to sleep against Julian’s chest while he carried me from the house to a car.

There was a safeness in his arms, his embrace filling a hole inside me, whispering to me that this was what serenity felt like.

Didn’t know how he got me, or why, but when he looked at me, I saw how the moon shone behind him like a halo.

His features softened into a feeling I didn’t have a word for, orphic perhaps.

The flecks of green in his amber eyes shimmered.

Everything is a sign. Everything is a warning, the voice inside me said again.

Then the smell of my dorm room. The cool feeling of my pillow against my face. The heavy weight of my pendant resting close to my heart. Blankets tucked around me. A blur of Julian’s face as he turned out the lamp beside my bed. In my drunkenness, he whispered something.

What was it he’d said?

The sound of Stevie placing a trash can next to my bedside.

The smell of lavender and eucalyptus oils sputtering from our diffuser.

The relief of sleep flooding everything around me, easily, quickly.

And the small tickle at the start of my thighs from the aching reminder of Julian’s lips against mine.

Magic was too simple of a word to describe what happened between the two of us.

Because that … well, that was everything.

And while I slept, the words that Julian said before he left came rushing to: “ I’m sorry .”

But it was the way he’d said it. He wasn’t apologizing for what he’d already done, not for what he’d said to me in class, not for who he’d been before today.

It sounded like he was apologizing for something he hadn’t done yet.

Something that was soon to happen.