“Well, now I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Ivy said. She liked the status quo—everything as it should be—Abby and Dylan, Ivy and Jake, and Nash and me. Six best friends who would hang out together, go to the same colleges, and eventually get married.
I didn’t want to be the one who broke up my best friend’s plans. But I wasn’t sure if Ivy’s dream should come at the expense of my happiness.
After school, I was heading toward the parking lot to meet Ivy, my rose poking out of my backpack.
“Hey, what’s up?” Nash asked, catching up to me by the flagpole. He looked handsome and tanned from his holiday break at the beach.
I could see Brandon in the distance, opening his Jeep door. He paused.
“Thanks for the flower,” I said. “It was really sweet of you.”
“The flower?”
“Yes, the one sticking out of my locker.” I took it out of my backpack and showed him.
“Oh, yeah, that one,” he said. “I have so much on my mind lately. Jet lag and all.”
I was slightly heartbroken. I was really hoping it was from Brandon.
“Aren’t you going to thank me for it?” he asked.
Now I paused. Brandon was watching me. There was no way I was going to kiss Nash, even for the kind gesture of a flower. I should still be miffed at him for his behavior at the party—having Heidi Rosen’s legs on his—but I wasn’t. I didn’t want to kiss him because I wanted to kiss Brandon instead.
I gave Nash a quick hug, but he held on longer than I wanted or expected.
“I was hoping for more,” he said, stroking my hair.
“Maybe later,” I said, breaking away.
“So, now we’re back together?”
I heard a car door slam in the distance. The Jeep tore out of the parking lot.
“Not yet,” I said, and headed off to join Ivy and Abby, who were just exiting the gymnasium.
When I got home, I headed into Juliette’s room. Rolling suitcases, totes, and duffel bags, all busting at the seams, were scattered on the floor. She was digging in her closet, making last-minute grabs at shoes and clothes for her return to college.
“Here, you can have this,” I said flatly, placing the flower on top of her suitcase.
I headed to my room as a beep sounded from my phone.
It was a text from Brandon.
You thanked the wrong guy, was all it said.
I raced back to Juliette’s and grabbed the flower.
“I thought that was for me—” she said, confused.
It was from Brandon after all. I danced around my room until I was so dizzy I collapsed onto my bed. I clutched the flower to my chest and held it as if it were him.
“You’re crazy!” I heard my sister call. “No wonder you don’t have a normal love life!”
I raced over to Brandon’s as fast as I could while still maintaining the speed limit and avoiding darting animals crossing the road. I wasn’t sure if Brandon was home or not and didn’t want to text or call. I just wanted to see him. Besides, the moon was waning and would not be full for a couple of weeks. If he was a werewolf, we both were safe.
I drove past the Maddoxes’ frozen pond and toward his place. Brandon was shoveling snow outside the guesthouse when he saw my car approaching.
He looked pleasantly surprised to see me, but reluctant, too. I could tell he wasn’t sure how I’d react to him since we hadn’t seen each other since our encounter underneath the school’s staircase.
“Thank you for the flower,” I said, meeting him by the fence. “I wasn’t sure it was from you.”
“Seems you were thanking the wrong guy.”
“I know,” I said, feeling stupid. “I thought it was from—”
“I should have left you a note. I just thought if it got in the wrong hands, your friends might freak out.”
I hated that Brandon knew my predicament. If they were real friends, one could say, it wouldn’t matter to them who I dated—just as long as I was happy. But my friends wanted us to be cozy in our perfect sixsome—three best girlfriends dating three best boyfriends.
I lingered by the fence near Brandon. It was as if he, too, longed for us to be together but, like me, was acting cautiously.
He leaned over and said, “I didn’t know how you’d react to getting a flower from a werewolf.”
“I’m so sorry I called you that,” I said. “I didn’t mean—”
“That night—it was strange,” he admitted. “I still don’t know what to make of it.”
“You still don’t remember?”
“I remember the way the moonlight lit your face and eyes. I can’t get it out of my mind.”