“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.

I didn’t believe what I had just seen. Brandon turning into a werewolf? In the back of my mind, I kept thinking about the kiss. But how could that turn him into a werewolf? When he heroically saved me from the pack of wolves and was bitten, it was a full moon. But it couldn’t be…. There had to be some rational explanation. Every magician had a secret, and Brandon must have had one, too.

Or perhaps I was dreaming.

I wasn’t about to remain alone in the woods, in a dream or not, on the lonely hilltop by his house.

I grabbed Brandon’s shirt and darted out of the woods. I ran as fast as I could to my car. I didn’t look back until I was safely locked inside.

If this were truly a dream, then I wouldn’t have Brandon’s shirt when I woke up in the morning. Unfortunately, that meant our magical kiss would have been a fantasy, too.

I was too shaken up to return to the basketball game. No amount of gossip or giggles with the girls could take my mind off of what I’d just witnessed or distract me from the most passionate kiss I’d ever had.

I managed to pull out of Brandon’s driveway and onto the narrow road. With every turn and flash of my headlights in the lonely woods, I was terrified that some creature would jump out of the trees.

I tried to breathe slowly as I drove, convincing myself there had to be a rational explanation. It wasn’t that Brandon had changed — it was me. The shadows of the moonlight distorted my view of his normally good-looking features and transformed them into wildly animalistic ones. Before we’d kissed, I’d distracted myself with thoughts of Dr. Meadows’s prediction—Beware of a kiss under the full moon. It will change your life forever—and it toyed with my mind. And the other explanation — I’d been studying werewolves and it plagued my thoughts. How could I have seen him any other way? I’d been eating and breathing werewolf folklore, so it was only natural for it to have infiltrated my mind. The moon was full, we were in a darkened wood where wolves can lurk, and Brandon had been bitten. I’m sure I just mixed it all together, under the intoxication of finally having the kiss I’d been dying to receive. Maybe I’d felt guilty about my feelings for Brandon — and all the complications they would cause — and this was my way of projecting them.