Page 46 of Blood Moon

Listen to that intuition in you. It is the spark that lights the flame.

Article II, Lost Letters from Aadan the First

Bobby was ashamed to say it aloud. Because he didn’t understand it.

Because he was still trying to pull away the edges of what was true about Timber Plains.

And I couldn’t fault him. If Julian hadn’t demonstrated how shifting worked, I would have eventually gone back to thinking it was all folklore.

When I returned to Lakeland University, the sky was a perfect pinch of yellow and pink.

The sun split through the clouds, casting a golden tint on the Campus Center. I was unsure what to do with myself, how to be. I sat on the front porch of Hester, swaying gently in a rocker.

Before all this, I would have gone on a run, or a hike. I would have set up a hammock in the trees and read a book. I used to believe the worst thing that happened to me was Rena leaving, but now I recognized that was the start of what felt like a never-ending tug on my heart.

And I wished I could have told Bobby outright, but I knew it wasn’t my secret to tell. Even still, the notion that Rena came from an ancient bloodline was very absolute. With the information I presented to Bobby, I hoped he’d be able to find her, or at the very least, gather more intel.

The chair squeaked as it moved. In the silence, loneliness sank in, and the possibilities of what could happen once the sun went down strangled me so tightly I found myself struggling to breathe.

Julian, I thought.

Moments later, after sneaking into Bryton, I rode the elevator to the sixth floor, skipping past the lobby and following the hall to the end until I met the wooden door that separated us.

A trail of tingles pricked the apples of my cheeks, and I stood there, flustered—and apparently for too long, because on my next breath, the lock turned, and the knob twisted. With a swing, Julian stood on the other side, staring down at me with a sloppy grin on his face.

“Did you miss me?” he said, and I did, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He was the only person I knew on campus this weekend, and I didn’t want to be alone. Thus, I invited myself in, paraded right past him, and plopped on the couch.

Julian bit his bottom lip as he closed the door, looking bemused as he tried to puzzle through what I’d do next.

“How does it work?” I asked, wondering again about his auditory ability and its extensiveness. “With your hearing? Do all the voices, all the time, not bother you?”

Julian examined his room with a timidness. “Did you call me recently?”

“No, but I’ve been wondering. Last night, I said your name, and you heard me. Does it mean you were waiting around for me to say something? Are you always listening to me? Should I be deeply concerned?”

“Wow.” Julian leaned against the counter in his kitchenette like he’d been blown over. “Uh, what do I say here? With great power comes great responsibility?”

“And yet, you’re not Spider-Man.”

Julian turned his face to smile, watching the view out the window.

After a moment, he looked at me again and said, “Mira, I wasn’t listening in on you, but I was listening for my name.

” And I remembered how quiet my voice was when I’d said it.

“And with all the voices … it’s not as chaotic as it may seem.

At first, it’s like being tuned in to every radio station, but with time, you learn how to lower the frequencies.

The voices are like a soft hum in the back of my head now.

I can choose to listen, or I can let it be. ”

“Selective hearing,” I said.

“Selective hearing,” he repeated.

I sighed, feeling solidified with that answer. “So, what’s for dinner?”

He chuckled outright. “Dinner?” he asked, thinking I was joking, until his face changed, and he said, “Oh, you’re serious.

” I nodded, and Julian looked stunned. He wore a scuffed pair of blue jeans and a flannel with sleeves folded to the elbow, a peek of his chest beneath. “How about burgers and fries?”

I stood without pause and rushed to the door. All the while, Julian rolled his eyes as he followed me out.

Julian owned a black jeep with worn leather seats that smelled like vanilla cashmere. A wolf pendant hung from the rearview mirror, watching me the moment I sat. I touched it, thinking how strange it must be for Julian to live in a world where no one knew what he was.

And I deliberated if he heard me contemplating, because the moment I clicked my seat belt, he regarded me with these solemn eyes, choosing not to disclose whatever had crossed his mind.

The windows were down as we pulled away from Lakeland, and my hair rushed toward every opening, flying around me. Julian laughed.

“It’s not funny,” I groaned, pushing the strands away from my eyes and mouth.

“It is,” he teased, and he handed me his phone. “Here, you can DJ.”

“You sure you want to listen to my music?” I scrolled through to find the angstiest song I knew. “You might start looking at me differently.”

“I extremely doubt that,” he said, grinning as he watched the open road.

“We are friends, 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 are too surface level for you?” Julian finished the rest of his fries and took a swig of his drink. “That’s not confusing at 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 was only ever 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.”