Page 48 of Blood Moon

“It’s what I want,” I said, and I watched his throat bob in the faint light. “I do have a request, though.” He slid his hands into his pockets, leaned in my direction. “Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

“ Gods, ” he mumbled, and he snickered. “You ask for a lot,” he said, flipping on a light switch and shuffling to his dresser. He pulled out a shirt and threw it at me. It landed on my face.

I bit my lips with a scowl. Took a measured breath. “Turn around,” I said, motioning with my finger.

“ You’re welcome, ” he groaned, doing as I said. “But it’s not like you haven’t already seen me naked.”

I scoffed as I removed my shirt. “First off, that was circumstantial. Second, I’m not naked.”

“And you not being naked makes it worse?”

I stood, took off my shirt and jeans before folding both items and placing them on the arm of the couch. “Dude, I know you’re not arguing with me about this, ” I said, pulling his shirt on and climbing into bed.

“It’s not an argument; I’m just trying to point out the fact that your math isn’t math-ing.”

My response was launching a pillow at his head. It plopped toward the floor, and I folded over in laughter. “All done,” I said, but Julian was already turning around, propelling the pillow in my direction.

I blocked it with my hands and threw it back in a fit of laughter.

It wouldn’t have been so funny, but Julian’s face—the way his brows curved in and his mouth opened in confusion and excitement—took the wind out of me.

Then it was the way he grew annoyed at my laughing, a reaction that only caused me to laugh even harder.

My stomach squeezed, and tears streamed down my face.

After a few more rounds of throwing the pillow back and forth, he waved his hands in defeat and blew out the candle behind him.

“It wasn’t that funny,” he growled.

“You should have seen your face. You were so mad.”

“I was annoyed. There’s a difference.”

“Sure,” I said, and I smirked, slipping under the blankets, close to the wall.

“Sure.” Julian looked exasperated, and he released a very long, very deep sigh before he tugged off his shirt.

I pressed my lips together, hiding my mouth with the edge of the blanket as I beheld his sculpted torso and chest. There beneath his navel was a V that stopped at the band of his boxers.

He pushed his hair back. “What?” he questioned, turning around to remove his jeans and pull on a pair of cotton shorts.

“Nothing.” The word was muffled by the blanket. Then, “You’re not gonna cover all that with a shirt?”

“I get hot when I sleep.” He shifted toward the light switch. “Would you prefer I wear a shirt?”

I bit down on the joke I wanted to deliver. Sleeping beside him shirtless would be insufferable and much too distracting. Realizing this, Julian pulled on a band tee, turned on the fan, and flipped off the light.

“And I thought you were tired,” he murmured, climbing in next to me and lying on his back. He stared at the ceiling.

“Burst of energy, I guess.” Though, at the mention of it, I already felt the exhaustion seeping in.

After a few seconds, Julian moved to his side, facing me.

Moonlight brushed his face through the slits in the blinds.

“Thanks,” I whispered, and when our arms touched, I found Julian’s hand.

“For putting up with my nonsense. For letting me stay. For being a friend.”

“It’s one of the best days I’ve had in a long time,” he said.

My fingers traced his arm, even when I knew I should probably refrain. “Why a fern?” I asked, brushing the leaves of his tattoo.

He watched my fingers, muscles constricting with the sweep of my nails. “They remind me of my mom. It was her favorite plant. We’d transport them from the woods, bring them home, and replant them in her garden.” He’d spoken it from a place that seemed far away from where we lay.

I removed my hand, but somehow, we found ourselves closer than we were before. “Do you think of her often?”

“Every single day, Mira. I can still see the look on her face from the last night I had with her. She’s there whenever I close my eyes, promising she’ll see me later.”

A lump formed in my throat as I tried to swallow. I felt helpless, longing for a way to offset the sadness I’d conjured. “I wish it were different for you.”

“I’ve grown past quarreling with whatever is up there in the sky. The world isn’t going to stand still for me, and I’ve accepted that I must live my life without her.”

I yearned to do the same, to forgive Rena, resign myself to whatever outcome may fall onto my path, but the consideration cast a sourness on my tongue, an aftertaste that wouldn’t quite let go.

Another question festered. “Julian, do you still hate me?” I was unsure the answer, as my own response continued to drift.

We’d made peace due to the urgency of the unexpected situation we’d been tossed into.

“I’m unsure how I feel about you,” he said, and I blushed pathetically, contemplating what I’d say next. The way Julian felt about me shouldn’t be of concern, but seeing him now, my heart raced, and my stomach bundled in knots. We were friends, I said to myself. Friends.

And yet …

Julian rested a hand to the curve of my face, smoothed the apple of my cheek with his thumb, and pushed back my hair, fingers lingering like a devotion for which no words existed. His lips pressed against my forehead, kissing me there before pulling away just enough to press his nose to me.

For a beat, it was just our breathing. The heavy ache of something more gnawed at us, whispering, pleading for a commencement. It was unbearable, excruciating . I wanted to perish into his chest, wanted his hands to tear me asunder.

He parted, the first to relent, and it brought a sense of dismay. “Sleep well,” he uttered, the sound of his voice reigniting a frisson.

Still, I moved closer to him. So close I was buried in the curve of his neck, my hand finding his, fingers folded beneath the sheets. “Is this okay?” I mumbled against him.

Heard him gulp, felt the vibration in his neck with his next breathy word. “ Yeah .”

I inhaled the salt on his skin, whispered, “Goodnight.”

There, entangled in him, I let myself imagine what it would be like to trail my fingers across his chest, over the hollow of his neck, through his hair.

I tried to remember the feeling of Julian’s mouth on mine.

How I didn’t want to be careful with him, how it was sweet and acidic and full of splendor, inhabiting me for many moons after.

And I wondered how different it would feel kissing him now.

How breathless we’d be. How honeyed he’d taste.

The exploration of his hands on my body, trailing every curve.

We’d move in and away from each other, until we were winded, shaky, and weak.

Between his lips, I’d release a plea. “I need you,” I’d say, and he’d pin me beneath him as he explored every inch of my body.

‘Til there were no more secrets between us. Only truth.

But I didn’t do any of those things.

Julian was a safe place. A friend. And I was fearful of ruining that when I’d already crossed so many boundaries.

Though he was right here right now—with an inkling telling me he’d play every part I wanted him to—I refused.

It was merely that I didn’t need another person to walk out of my life.

Couldn’t handle the pain of seeing his back to me.

I hoarded those feelings within and stayed close to him as the excitement subsided. A twist, and he draped his arm around me, pulling me closer. Another soft peck to the side of my head, and soon, we fell swiftly into an easy sleep.