Brandon and I stole a few passing glances the next day at school but nothing more than that. I was dying to grab his hand when I saw him by his locker, like I had when we were skating, but I didn't possess the courage. Instead, I just daydreamed about him throughout each class and wrote his name in every one of my notebooks  -  in an out-of-the-way spot so my friends couldn't see. After school I was at Ivy's, working on our English essays, when my cell phone rang. It wasn't a ring tone I was familiar with  -  not Abby's, Nash's, or my parents'.

It was Frank Sinatra's voice singing "Fly Me to the Moon."

"Who is that?" Ivy asked.

Brandon's name appeared. How could that be? Then it hit me; he must have added his name to my contact list when he found my phone in the woods.

I swept up the phone and covered it with my sleeve before Ivy had a chance to see it.

Frank kept singing.

"You better answer it and tell them they have the wrong number. Otherwise, they'll keep calling." My phone number was one digit off from a local radio station's. I'd been receiving calls from listeners requesting songs or dialing in for a contest, but I'd been too lazy to change my number.

I wanted to talk to Brandon so badly. I was dancing on the inside. I quickly answered before he hung up. "Hello?" I said.

"They're all gone," he said in a deep voice.

"What?" I asked.

"The brownies? They're all gone. Even the crumbs."

"Who is it?" Ivy asked.

"I think it's a wrong number," I whispered. The lie jumped out of my mouth before I had the chance to stop it.

"Only you'd answer them!" Ivy shouted. "Tell them they might have won if they dialed the right number for a change!"

"I'd like to give you back the pan. And your scarf," Brandon said.

I paused. What did that mean? A date?

"What are they asking?" Ivy asked.

"Or... I can sell them on eBay," he teased. "I'm sure they would get a lot since they belong to you."

I laughed.

"Why are you laughing at them? Are they requesting a song?" Ivy asked.

"Are you going to the game tonight?" Brandon asked.

"Yes," I said. "Are you?"

"Why are you asking them questions?" Ivy asked.

I imagined Brandon approaching me at the game with my mom's brownie pan and my scarf. The ref would whistle and the game would stop. The players and fans would leer in horror. Ivy and Abby would fold their arms in disgust.

"No, I have work to do," he finally said.

"You work?"

"Tell them to get back to their job before their boss notices they're listening to the radio instead of working," Ivy said. "You don't have to be so polite."

"There's a lot of upkeep around here and I help out my grandparents," he said.

Wow, I thought. That was kind of like when I volunteered at the nursing home. Brandon was putting his grandparents' needs in front of his own.

"But feel free to swing by here if you get a chance," he continued. "I'll be here."

I didn't say anything.

"If not, I'll get them to you later."

I didn't want to hang up. I wanted to talk to him forever. Even with Ivy in the room and my juggling antics, I was so happy to have Brandon on the phone. There was so much I wanted to know about him  -  so many things I couldn't ask now. And the one question that burned inside of me  -  what was it like to be kissed by him?

"I appreciate you calling," I finally said.

"Enough is enough." She grabbed the phone. "Would you like me to call your cell phone and request a song? Never call this number again."

She hung up the phone.

I was in shock.

"That's what you should have said from the beginning."

For the next few hours, I tried my best to focus on my essay about werewolves. But I couldn't help but let my thoughts wander to the wolves I'd met a few days ago, and how I was lucky even to be able to finish a complete sentence, all because of Brandon's heroic nature.

Since the Heidi Rosen fiasco at Nash's party, he and I were "off." However, that didn't keep my friends from dragging me to the basketball game and expecting reconciliation.

There were a lot of reasons to like Nash. He was handsome, athletic, and popular. He had enough money to do whatever a girl dreamed of  -  except he'd only do it if it was his dream, too. But instead of planning a possible reunion, my mind was focused on Brandon working at his house while all of us cheered for the Wolverines. I was so drawn to Brandon, I could think of nothing else.

"Maybe we should have a hockey team," I said to Ivy.

"We have enough problems raising funds to maintain football and basketball," she replied. "Now you want to build a hockey rink?"

"Not everyone likes those sports," I defended.

"Are you serious?" Ivy asked. "Who do you know in this town that doesn't?"

"Where did you get that idea?" Abby asked. "I'd like to play hockey. Only I'd want a pink uniform."

A few minutes later, Nash made a great three-point shot. The crowd rose to their feet and cheered, but I didn't budge.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" Abby said. "It's like you're not really here."

In fact, I was thinking about being somewhere else  -  somewhere that didn't have cheerleaders and screaming fans. Brandon's house wasn't too far away from school, and I figured it wouldn't hurt anyone if I just popped over and retrieved my things. I'd be back before the game was even over. My friends wouldn't miss me. The game was so riveting to them, it didn't matter who was sitting by them. Additionally, Brandon had wanted to return my items to me tonight, and if I hadn't already had plans, I might be there helping him out. Since Ivy hung up on Brandon, I was convinced he'd never call again. If I missed this chance, I wasn't sure I'd ever get another.

"I have to go," I said to Ivy.

"What do you mean? Nash is tearing up the court. You can't miss it!"

"I have to be somewhere."

"Where else could you be?"

"I'll be back soon. I promise."

Before she could say another word, I was gone.

I drove to Riverside. Normally, I was a pragmatic and practical person. Now I had to follow my heart. All I knew was that I needed to see Brandon and I couldn't fight it any longer.

This time I didn't need directions to Brandon's house. The first time I drove there, it was daylight. With a cloudy night and freezing temperatures, the full moon only shone every now and then. In Riverside there weren't streetlights illuminating the way, only white or yellow lines and reflective tape against the guardrails. I wasn't really used to these more rural roads, especially at night, and the trees were spooky when the headlights hit them. My heart began to race. What if I got a flat tire? How would I explain my location to my parents? And on this lonely road, would my family find me before a wayward stranger did?

As I pulled into the private drive, I got cold feet  -  what was I doing here to begin with? I shouldn't have left the comfort of my friends on the right side of town for the unknown adventures on the wrong one. At this moment, there was nothing to keep me at the gymnasium. Instead I was drawn toward Brandon.

My headlights shone on Brandon's Jeep.

Breathless, I knocked on the front door. The dog barked, but no one answered.

I ran to the back of the house. There was a small outbuilding the size of a two-car garage with a light shining from the window. I peered in, expecting it to be filled with tools, an old car, and a riding lawn mower. Instead there was a single bed, dresser, and TV. In the corner were a hockey stick and helmet and the pair of skates Brandon used yesterday. My scarf, pan, and card were sitting on the dresser. I felt warmth spread through me, knowing my things meant enough to him to have them displayed. I noticed some other things: a small wooden desk with a lit lamp and a laptop, a few bottles of medicine and bandages for his hand, stacks of books on wolves, deer, and other wild animals.

From the hilltop I could hear the faint sound of chopping. I followed the noise.

"Brandon?" I called.

I scaled the hill and was almost out of breath when I reached the top.

Brandon, in his brown leather jacket, was doing his best to chop wood. He struggled because of his wounded hand. He swore under his breath and shook out his hand in pain.

Then he caught sight of me. Startled, he jumped. "I didn't see you there," he said.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"No  -  I'm glad you came."

"You hurt your hand again - "

"Oh  -  it's nothing. I'm really surprised to see you," he said. "I guess that scarf is really important to you. To leave the game..."

"Oh, yeah," I said. "The scarf."

"But you're wearing another one," he said, pointing to my green-and-white-striped one. "How many do you have?"

I didn't answer, I just stood nervously.

"I'll get your things for you. I just have to adjust this."

He stacked the broken pieces of wood with his good hand.

I didn't care about the scarf. I only cared about him. I wanted Brandon to touch me so badly and I wanted to touch him, too  -  to feel his embrace and lips against mine. I wasn't about to make the first move, and neither was he apparently. It wasn't my personality to be so romantically forward.

"Do you need help?" I finally asked.

"No, you sit down. It will just be a minute."

I sat on the chopping log.

Was he stalling so that I'd have to stay with him in the woods longer?

I rubbed my shoulder. If something didn't happen soon, I was going to scream.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Just tension," I said.

"What do you have to be tense about?"

"Oh, everything, I guess. School. Tests. Boys."

"Boys?" he said. "Ah... that is stressful. Here, let me," he said, and came around behind me. "Your scarf is in the way. Do you mind?"

"Uh... no."

He peeled away my scarf and pressed his hand against my skin. My flesh tingled in his warm, strong hand. I was so in heaven, finally having Brandon being so close to me. Before I knew it, I felt his lips against my neck.

I was so overwhelmed I was afraid I'd fall off the chopping block and melt into the snow.

Suddenly Brandon stood in front of me and extended his good hand.

I stared up at him, his royal blue eyes shining down at me. I took his hand, stood, and he drew me close to him. Even through our heavy coats, I could feel the heat from our bodies pressed together. Overhead the clouds drifted apart, exposing a perfectly full moon.

The moon glimmered above us, magically illuminating us. When I'd looked at a moon like this before, it had always been when I'd felt alone  -  now it seemed to be smiling at me, as I was finally under its romantic glow.

I remembered Dr. Meadows warning me about the full moon. Beware of a kiss under the full moon. It will change your life forever. She had been right about the snow, the woods, howling, and an outsider. But what was the chance that she was correct about the rest? And what did it mean, really? I was so attracted to Brandon, I didn't know what to do.

"What? Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, just something someone said. About the moon."

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Just like..."

He gently glided my hair away from my face.

"I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you," he said.

It was then he leaned into me and did what I'd been dying for him to do for so long. Since he first looked at me in Mrs. Clark's class, passed me in the hallways, and saved me in the woods. Brandon kissed me. His lips were so tender I thought I was in a dream.

It felt like nothing I'd ever experienced before. Deeper and more soulful than when I kissed Nash.

Something truly special had happened to me after seventeen years of living in Legend's Run. I'd fallen in love.

I began giggling with delight as Brandon wrapped his arms around me.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'm just so happy."

"I am, too."

I was in heaven in Brandon's strong arms. I didn't want to go back to the game. I didn't want this moment to ever end.

He caressed my cheek, and we kissed again so passionately I thought I'd gone to heaven.

I leaned my head against his chest and he stroked his fingers through my hair. I could feel his heart pounding as fast as a bullet train. I gazed up and saw he wore a soft smile.

The full moon shone strong. He continued to stroke my hair and then kissed my neck and ears. My body tingled as his lips tickled my skin.

We kissed again, but suddenly he drew away.

"I don't have to leave," I said, referring to the game.

Brandon didn't answer. Instead, he released me from his embrace and stepped away.

"Really," I said. "I won't go. Not if you don't want me to. At least not yet."

"It's not that..." Brandon turned pale. "I feel odd."

"Maybe you should sit down," I said, pointing to the tree stump.

"No  -  it's something different. I feel really hot."

"That's because you are," I said, grinning.

"I'm burning up," he said, and took off his coat.

Our kisses had heated me up, too, but I wasn't ready to throw my coat to the side just yet.

Brandon ripped off his long-sleeved knit shirt and dropped it in the snow. He pulled off his undershirt and threw it at his feet. "I feel really weird," he said. "I'm not sure you should be around me. I think something's wrong."

I felt awful, too. We had just shared the best kiss of my life and now Brandon was acting strangely.

The fog from his warm breath seemed to be heavier and thicker than mine. I wasn't sure what was happening. "Maybe you've come down with something," I offered. "There's always some flu going around."

He kicked off his boots and yanked off his socks.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

But Brandon was far from focused on me. His brow furrowed and his gaze showed concern. This was no seduction.

He finally looked at me. Brandon was standing in thirty-degree weather in several inches of snow in just his jeans. He was barefoot and shirtless. And he wasn't shivering.

His chest was smooth and his arms were pale and lean. His chest heaved in and out rapidly.

"You must have a fever. But then you'd be shivering," I said, bewildered. "Let's go inside. Maybe your grandparents can help."

"No  -  they're not home. Besides, I don't think I should move."

Brandon started to shake. It was then I saw it. His royal blue eyes were a searing gray.

I couldn't believe my own eyes! I was stunned. How could his eyes change color? And why?

Now I began to shake. What was happening to Brandon? I was scared.

Brandon doubled over.

Maybe he did have the flu, but his symptoms were coming on so strong and so quickly, I wasn't sure what kind of flu it was.

Brandon pulled himself over to a tree and leaned his back against it. I tried to follow, but he shooed me away. I wanted to respect his privacy, but I was really starting to worry. I cared for Brandon so deeply and was torn apart seeing him in distress. Since he wasn't going to leave the hilltop, I'd have to get someone to come to him.

"I'm calling the police. You need a doctor," I said.

Brandon didn't say a word.

The tree blocked my view of Brandon. It was dark except for the strong moonlight.

"Brandon," I said, "what's happening?"

"Please, Celeste. You have to leave." Brandon's voice was tormented and serious.

"No, I don't want to leave you."

"Please... go. Now!"

The more Brandon pushed me away, the more I wanted to stay.

"I'm calling nine-one-one," I said as a threat.

"Please leave, Celeste," he repeated. His voice was so deep, almost animal-like.

I kept hoping that at any moment Brandon would jump out and say "Gotcha!" like the millions of times Nash pranked me and our friends.

But he didn't and I was truly frightened.

"What are you doing?" I called. "You're scaring me! I'm going back to the game."

"Yes  -  that's... a great... idea." His voice was now shallow and breathless.

I retreated. I was torn. If this was a cruel joke, I didn't want to be its target. His brilliant blue eyes had changed to gray. It couldn't be possible. But if it was, then something was dreadfully wrong with Brandon and leaving him up there alone on the hilltop wasn't the responsible thing to do. He hadn't run away when I needed help. As scared as I was, I wasn't about to desert him in his time of crisis.

"I'm getting help," I called to him again.

He didn't answer.

Then he stepped out from behind the tree. Brandon's short, wavy brown hair was now savagely wild and shoulder-length. His normally clean-shaven face sported a goatee. His once-smooth chest was now lined with a thin layer of hair. His stomach was as ripped as an Olympic swimmer's, and his biceps were cut like a triathlete's. His eyes were a gorgeous gray. He was breathing heavy, as if he'd run a marathon. Brandon had fangs like a wolf.

I stopped dialing. I could barely breathe. It couldn't be...

Brandon continued to stare at me intensely, as if he wasn't sure what had just happened himself.

"Brandon! You look like a werewolf!"

His expression was sullen. He examined his arms and felt his stubble and goatee.

Brandon glared at me with the frailty of a human and the intensity of an animal.

I inched away. I was frightened and freaked out. Why was he acting this way? A moment ago, I'd been on the other end of his irresistible lips. And now he was acting like a creature I'd never seen before.

I was afraid of him  -  of the situation  -  of being alone in the woods. The same person who'd saved me from a pack of wolves was now staring at me with their steady gray eyes.

Unsure of what he'd do next, I didn't break his mesmerizing gaze. I gently and quietly took a giant step backward. Unfortunately, my boot landed on a branch instead of solid ground. It cracked underneath my pressure, causing my foot to slip and I fell down.

When I looked up, Brandon was standing over me.

"No - " I cried, putting my hand out.

I was frightened and began to shake. He looked like he could rip me to shreds. But Brandon appeared confused by my fear. His intense expression softened as if he was as surprised as I was at his strange condition.

Suddenly he retreated into the shadows and disappeared.

In the distance, I heard a fierce howl, like that of a lone wolf.