Foxblood #1: A Brush with the Moon Read online

  Chapter Five

  THE NEW WEEK arrived and began without incident. Then, on Thursday afternoon, I had a free period and decided to work on one of my assignments in peace. I found an empty classroom where I wouldn’t be disturbed and set to work.

  My essay on the inner workings of a modern-day expressionist’s mind came along great. It’s amazing what you can get done without interruptions from well-meaning friends. I had almost finished and was mulling over the essay’s conclusion when a knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

  Before I had time to protest, Sebastian entered the room. He was still wearing the Ray-Ban sunglasses, but there was no mistaking it was him. My stomach knotted and I struggled to breathe, but I tried to compose myself as I watched him approach.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, trying to appear disinterested.

  “Oh, I’m sure you can,” he answered in a gorgeous public schoolboy accent, soft and smooth like warm chocolate that melted my insides. It was vaguely familiar. Had I heard it somewhere before? I raised my eyebrows, and he continued, “I saw you, you know, staring at me at the tryouts.”

  “I wasn’t staring. I was looking for my friend,” I replied.

  “And you found me. Lucky break,” he said, perching on the edge of my desk. I couldn’t help noticing that the fabric of his jeans strained to contain his muscular thigh.

  My mouth went dry, and I looked back down at my work, willing him to go away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him remove his sunglasses, but I pretended to ignore him.

  “Did you see anything you liked?” He moved closer and leaned his head in towards my neck. His breath was warm and inviting on my skin, but it sent a ripple through me that brought me out in goosebumps.

  I took a deep breath and turned to reprimand him, only to be met by those eyes. The eyes of my dreams. My pencil snapped in two and dug into my hand. I bit back the pain and stared at him, not breathing, wanting to look away but finding that I couldn’t. The eyes refused to let go. It had to be a coincidence. Or was it?

  After a long pause, I struggled to release the words that clung to my throat. “I-I have work to do. Please leave me alone.”

  He held my gaze for what seemed like an eternity. Then, suddenly, as if a switch had been turned off, he broke away from my gaze and jumped off the desk.

  “Fair enough. I can wait,” he said, and he departed to join his cousin, who was leaning against the wall outside, waiting. I watched them disappear down the corridor, laughing and high-fiving as they walked.

  Feeling oddly deflated, I tried to finish my assignment, but concentration eluded me. I couldn’t stop thinking about the eyes in my dreams—something I’d done more times than I could remember over the years. I’d always liked to think they meant someone was watching over me, but discovering they were Sebastian’s eyes had filled my head with more questions. Why him? What did it mean? Had I been having some kind of premonition?

  I also couldn’t stop picturing the high-five. It was like a victory celebration. Why would he do that after speaking to me? What was I to him? A game? A bet? A conquest to be had? Ugh. Why were boys so confusing? I had the headache of all headaches coming on, and I needed to talk to Beth.

  Five minutes later, I approached the side entrance of the gym block, opened the door, and collided with Jack.

  “Hey, Sophie,” he said cheerfully, blocking my way through the door.

  “Jack.”

  “Listen, I wanted to say sorry for last Friday. Don’t remember much. Bit pissed. I do remember poking you in the boob, though. Nice boobs, by the way.” He looked down at my chest again.

  “Jack. Quit while you’re ahead.” I squeezed past him to go inside.

  He twisted to hold the door open. “I really am sorry.”

  I felt a shred of remorse and turned to offer him a smile, but over his shoulder I noticed Sebastian watching, so I hurried inside.

  Unfortunately, Beth had already left for the gym, and I had to wait until she came home later that evening before I could tell her what had happened. The hours between gave me ample time to relive the scene over and over, until I’d convinced myself that my imagination had been working overtime.

  “Nooo! I don’t believe it! You’re kidding me!” she shrieked. “He came on to you? You’re so lucky.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say that. I don’t know what he was doing. That’s the problem.” I couldn’t tell her about his eyes. The entire time I’d known her, she’d always dismissed my dreams as stupid and something I would grow out of.

  “Well, it sounds to me like he came on to you…and it’s totally not fair. You’ve had a nightclub owner and the hottest, richest guy in town after you this week, and I haven’t had a sniff. What’s going on? It’s not normal. It’s like the Twilight Zone around here.”

  She was right. Back in Brumpton, Beth had never been short of attention, so I could understand why her nose was out of joint. “Look, I’ve no idea why they singled me out. I didn’t ask for it, and I don’t want it, so they’ll just have to get over it.”

  “Hmm, a shop full of sweeties and you’re not buying? People will think you’re not interested in men,” she joked.

  “They can think what they like. Sweets aren’t good for you. They rot your teeth and make you fat.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she said, her raised eyebrows asking an unspoken question.

  I scowled. “And I’m not interested in women either, before you ask.”

  “Well, I did wonder. You’ve never had a boyfriend, and I did see you checking me out in the shower the other day.”

  “Get over yourself. I was merely wondering if you’d had one crème egg too many.”

  “Ooooh, and she hits below the belt. Round one to Sophie.” Beth giggled.

  The mood lightened, and I started to feel much better. “Fish and chip supper?” I asked.

  “Scraps and gravy?”

  “A given.”

  “Deal.”

  That evening Mum phoned, and to be fair, in the weeks that I’d been in Fosswell, she hadn’t pestered me as much as I’d thought she would. In fact, the last time we’d spoken had been a few days after I moved in, and I now felt quite guilty that I hadn’t rung her first.

  I supposed I’d tried to blank out the past and pretend that it had never existed, and I’d been so busy and preoccupied that I…well, I just kind of forgot.

  Mum spent practically the whole call chastising me for not ringing her, interspersed with a plethora of ‘okay’ questions. Was the flat okay? Was uni okay? Was the town okay? Was I making friends okay?

  Okay! I felt like shouting. Stop asking me if I’m okay! Particularly as I’m not okay. Not that I’d tell Mum that.

  I really wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but I couldn’t tell Mum that I wasn’t interested in day-to-day trivialities when my mind was elsewhere. So I listened politely while she droned on and on, telling me what was happening at home and asking the ‘okay’ questions, but I kept switching off and having to ask her to repeat herself.

  After what seemed like about five hours, but which was in reality about ten minutes, we said our goodbyes, and she made me promise not to leave it too long until the next call.

  In the dead of night, I awoke damp and shaky. My dream had felt so real. The eyes had been given form now, a face and even a body, and I imagined that I could still feel those hands on my skin, not clawing this time but gentler, stroking.

  It was still dark. In the cloudless sky, the moon was almost full, and it shone brightly through the thin curtains. I was annoyingly awake, so I got up and padded to the kitchen to pour a drink before wandering over to a chair near the back window to drink it. A moving shadow outside caught my eye, and I nervously crept nearer to the glass to get a better look. My vision was partially obscured by the curtain, but I swore I saw a shadowy figure staring up at the flat. I blinked to clear the sleep from my eyes, and when my gaze returned to the street, the figure had disappeared.

  Terrified, I ran
into Beth’s room and jumped into her bed.

  She stirred and murmured, “What the hell…?”

  “It’s okay. Go back to sleep. I just needed some company.”

  “Are you sure you’re not gay?” she asked drowsily.

  “Yes, I’m sure, Beth. Are you sure the door’s locked?”