Free Once in a Full Moon by Ellen Schreiber

movie or TV star I’d adored. I replayed the late afternoon’s harrowing event in my mind—that at the last second before I was about to be wolf bait, a handsome hero swooped into the most dangerous situation of my life and saved me from the clutches of death. I wasn’t sure why I felt so strongly for Brandon—someone who I didn’t really know much about—but I did. Perhaps it was the same feeling a victim has toward a firefighter or police officer who saves them in the line of duty.
    I recalled the moment when Brandon and I stood together underneath the romantic snowfall and in the solitude of the woods, our bodies close together and our hands entwined. I didn’t want to let go. Not then. Not ever.
    I was excited. I could barely breathe. I had butterflies fluttering through my body. My heart ached. I wanted to dance around my room for days.
    I thought about him staring at me when I bandaged his hand and holding me when I felt dizzy. I imagined my scarf, wrapped around his hand; how lucky it was to be so close to him.
    The more I tried to get Brandon out of my mind, the more he infiltrated it. My soft blue fleece blanket reminded me of his eyes. The winter scarves hanging in my closet only further reminded me of the one I’d secured on his bitten hand. The full moon shining through my bedroom window was the same one that had hovered over us as he fought off the threatening wolves.
    It didn’t hurt that Brandon was handsome, enigmatic, and strong. I rationalized that I was just swept up in the moment. Maybe in time this emotional connection would dissipate like the snowfall. The clouds would break and I’d be free of this feeling, just as I was finally free from the woods themselves.
    I wasn’t sure why I was thinking of Brandon when I was currently dating Nash. I was lucky enough to be going out with the star of the basketball team and best friend to my friends’ boyfriends. My parents loved him, and so did everyone at school.
    Besides, why would Brandon have feelings for me? I was just some girl he heard crying in the woods and decided to help her. I could have been anyone. But when we held hands and he smiled at me, I felt a connection that I’d never experienced before.
    And at the end of his heroics, he was left wounded and bloody. I couldn’t help but be concerned. His once-healthy hand was mauled and I was the cause. If I hadn’t been so insistent on walking home alone, I wouldn’t have gotten lost and he wouldn’t have been bitten.
    I tossed and turned and gazed into the moonlight streaming through my curtain and into the darkness of my room. Eventually these crazy love-struck thoughts that possessed me would surely go away and I’d return to daydreaming and writing in my notebook about the moon and the stars.
    I recalled Nash’s reaction to hearing the cry of a wolf only a few months ago. The two events in the woods mirrored each other. When Nash had told the story of the werewolf, he ran off, frightened by his own tale. Brandon, on the other hand, had risked his life for mine and jumped into a real life-and-death situation without hesitation. Not only didn’t Nash think of me when he was hightailing it back to his car, but he wasn’t thinking of his other friends, either.
    Did that make Nash a bad person? Maybe I wasn’t being fair to him. No one in their right mind wanted to confront a pack of wolves. I wondered what made someone have the instinct of flight while others had the courage to fight.
    I’d never be able to admit my doughy, in-love-with-a-Westsider feeling to Ivy or Abby. Brandon didn’t fit neatly into their clique. To them, he was an outsider, plain and simple. He didn’t live in our neighborhood, he didn’t play sports, and, most important, he wasn’t Nash.
    For now, I’d have to keep my thoughts and feelings locked away inside me. If Brandon didn’t tell anyone about the event, and neither did I, then no one would be the wiser.
    However, I knew I’d need to thank Brandon.