"A kiss can be a comma, a question mark, or an exclamation point." -Mistinguett

"Look, Brian, I know you're mad at me, but you don't have to ignore me!" I turn around to see a very irritated and windswept Kyle.

"I'm not ignoring you," I promise, confused.

"Oh, so you just didn't hear me yelling your name from the time you walked into school?" he snaps.

"Sorry, Kyle, I just have a lot on my mind," I reply.

"Okay, I deserve this I guess." He takes a deep breath before quickly saying, "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, okay? I know you, and I know that you aren't up to anything and I shouldn't have listened to everyone else and if you can't tell me then I'm just going to have to deal with that and I'm sorry."

It takes me a second to figure out what he's saying (he talked very, very fast) and then takes me another second to figure out why he's saying it. Then I remember our fight on Friday. Somehow, in everything else that happened, I completely forgot about it.

But I don't mention that to Kyle, because he obviously thought about it a lot over the weekend. "It's okay. And thank you."

Significantly relaxed, Kyle smiles. "Good. But if you ever can tell me, and want to talk about it, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, Kyle, that means a lot." He looks at me for a moment, as though hoping I'd tell him. But obviously I don't.

Taylor creeps up behind Kyle and, catching my eye, motions for me to be quiet. Then she puts her hands over his eyes and sings, "Guess who?"

"Um, Bigfoot?" he jokes. She hits him, then spins him around for a kiss. I look away, a familiar mix of jealousy and guilt twisting in my stomach.

After a sufficiently awkward amount of time, they break apart and seem to remember I'm there. "Hey, Brian!" Taylor sings, flashing me a smile that erases the memory of the past minute.

"Hey," I breathe, trying desperately to remember that her boyfriend- my best friend- is just inches away.

"Are you ready for tomorrow's Chem test? I studied all weekend but I'm still so lost!" she moans.

Chem test. Another thing I forgot about over the weekend, but this time I at least own up to it. "I completely forgot. Do you want to come over and study after school?" The words are out before I can stop myself.

"Really?" she gasps. I hold my breath, bracing myself for her reaction. "That would be great! That would help so much!"

Inside I'm doing a touchdown dance while a thousand balloons fall from the sky and "We Are the Champions" plays. On the outside, I allow myself a smile and a brief nod before I dutifully turn to Kyle and ask, "Do you want to come, too?"

"Thanks, but my test was Friday. Kerwin's classes are a little ahead of Garret's, I guess," he adds smugly.

"Dork," Taylor says as she hits him again. He just laughs, and I can't help doing so as well. Terrible friend or not, I am sincerely looking forward to spending some time alone with Taylor.

"So the Rutherford Experiment discovered what?"

Taylor thinks for a minute, then answers, "Um, electrons?"

"Close," I say. "It discovered that the nucleus is small, dense, and positively charged. And that an atom is mostly empty space."

"How is that close?" she demands.

"It's on the same page of my notes," I mumble, feeling my face get hotter than it already is.

Taylor laughs for a second, then lets out a growl of frustration. "I'm going to fail this test because I'm so stupid and I don't know anything and I just fail at life." She shoves a handful of chips into her mouth and crosses her arms, pouting.

"No, you don't. You're a great person and you're practically a genius," I say as I reach out to touch her arm.

Taylor looks at my hand and I immediately go to move it, but then I hear her mumble, "Don't." It is so quiet that she can't have expected me to hear her, but I listen anyway.

For a moment, we just look at each other. Then she whispers, "Do you really mean that?"

"I do," I answer immediately.

The smallest of smiles crosses her face, and her eyes shine with delight. She is so beautiful, and I want nothing more in the world than to kiss her. The only thing stopping me is the knowledge that she doesn't want to kiss me.

But then she kisses me.

For a split second, I'm too stunned to react. But then I get over that and start reacting. Due to my lack of experience in kissing, I rely completely on instinct. Nature does not disappoint. I keep going deeper into the kiss, and never want this to end.

Then it ends. Taylor pulls away from me, looking horrified. I open my mouth to ask her what's wrong, but before I can say anything she answers me.

"Kyle."

I really, really want to be struck by lightning. And mauled by dogs. Then thrown to sharks. And stabbed a million times. That would be less painful than the knowledge that I just made out with my best friend's girlfriend. Forget terrible friend. I'm a terrible person.

But I accept all the blame and do not want Taylor to feel responsible. "I'm sorry," I tell her. "It's my fault, I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

She stares at me for a second, completely confused. Then, I assume to lighten the mood, she jokingly punches me in the face.

Or at least, I thought she was joking until she starts screaming.

"What's wrong?" I demand, looking for signs of distress or injury. She's clutching the hand she used to punch me, but how can it be hurt if I didn't feel a thing?

"My hand! I think it's broken!" she says from between her teeth.

"How is that possible, you barely touched me?!"

"No, I hit you as hard as I could! Damn, I think it's broken!" her eyes are starting to water and she's biting her lip. It still doesn't add up, but I'm more concerned about her well-being than what actually caused the injury.

"Hold on, I'll get my mom." I bolt to Molly's room and nearly break the door on my way in.

"Whoa, honey, where's the fire ?" Mom asks.

Molly sings, "Fire, fire, he's on fire! Brian's a firefighter!"

I ignore her stupid song and say, "I think Taylor broke her hand!"

Mom's eyes go wide. "How? What happened?"

"I don't know, she punched me and it didn't hurt me at all, but she's hurt, and Mom just do something!" I moan, feeling more and more horrible by the second.

"Why did she punch you?" Does my mother have to be a reporter right now? Can she just be my mom and fix it?

"Because I kissed her, even though actually she kissed me but I don't want her to feel bad because she's dating Kyle and I don't know why she kissed me but I'm not complaining, but she broke her hand!" I say this incredibly fast, hoping to satisfy all further questions and expedite my mother's healing actions.

"She broke her hand, punching your face?" Mom laughs to herself. "Now where have I heard that one before?"

Now I've had it. "Mother, please!"

"Okay, okay, hold on." She gets up and follows me back to the kitchen where we find a more collected, but still injured Taylor.

"Let me see." Mom takes Taylor's hand and asks her to move it certain ways. She does, but with varying degrees of pain. Each wince is like a dagger in my heart. I just want to die. Preferably painfully.

"Well, my mother-in-law's the nurse, not me," Mom says, "but I don't think it's broken. Sprained maybe, but not broken."

Relief washes over me, though I still feel awful for causing her any kind of pain. I still want to die, but maybe less painfully.

"You should probably get it checked out, though," Mom continues.

"Both my parents are at work," Taylor says. "I guess I'll go when they get home."

I bite back my offer to take her. For one thing, I don't know if she'd want me to. For another, I can't drive. Thankfully, my mom offers, "If it's okay with your parents, I could take you down to MedExpress. It should only take a little bit."

"Could you call my mom?" Taylor asks.

"Of course," Mom says. To me she adds, "Go get her an ice pack so it doesn't swell too much."

I'm back with the pack before Mom has even dialed the first digit of Taylor's mom's number. "Brian, you move remarkably fast," Taylor observes, taking the ice pack from me. For the first time I feel the need to explain everything to Taylor. I know I'm allowed to, but I've never imagined my needing or wanting to. Still, I feel that, after what just happened, she deserves some kind of explanation.

For being "Express" MedExpress is a very slow operation. After nearly an hour in the waiting room, we wait twenty minutes for someone to do the damn x-rays for Taylor's wrist. My patience is thinning, which is never good, and with every minute I feel more and more obligated to tell Taylor everything. I've almost convinced myself that it would be a good idea, even.

"This is ridiculous. I'm going to find someone to do the stinking x-ray," Mom says, getting up and walking out the door. A moment passes in an awkward silence.

Taylor breaks it with a half-hearted laugh. "I've always said you had a thick skull, but really, Brian."

I smile weakly, then make my decision. "Look, Taylor, about that-"

She cuts me off, "No, it's not your fault. I can't throw a punch. And you didn't even deserve that to begin with. I kissed you, I got what I deserved."

I can't take it anymore. "Taylor, I have a confession to make."

"What?" she asks.

"Before I tell you, do you promise to keep an open mind, and not ask questions until I'm done?" My heart is racing, but I'm still determined. What if she hates me? Worse, what if she doesn't believe me? I do my best to push those thought aside.

"Sure," she promises.

I take a deep breath, and start telling her everything. Well, almost everything. I leave out the "guard dog" issue, mostly because I don't want to freak her out any more than necessary. We're interrupted twice, once to take her x-rays, and once for them to fit her with a brace. Still, she never interrupts, and neither does my mom, who instead pretends to be invisible in the corner by the door.

I finish my story as my mom pulls out of the parking lot of MedExpress. As soon as I'm done, I'm filled with a sense of both relief and dread. It feels great to have told her, but what will she think of me now?

"Brian," she says slowly, looking at me for the first time. "Why are you telling me this?"

Okay, I may have left out a bit more than the "guard dog" part. With another wave of anxiety, I explain about imprinting. Again, she's quiet, but this time she seems a bit more uncomfortable.

"So, we're supposed to end up together?" she asks carefully. I can't tell if her face is showing confusion or dread. I hope the former.

"Not exactly. It's up to you," I assure her.

She still looks confused. "But what about you? Don't you get a choice."

It's a strange question, I think, but I answer truthfully, "No, not really. It doesn't really bother me, though."

"But that's not fair for you!" she exclaims.

I'm stunned and thrilled with her concern. "Nothing about this is very fair for me, but thanks for caring." I smile sincerely.

Taylor smiles for a second, but it is almost immediately replaced by a frown. "I can't tell anyone about any of this, can I?"

"No," I answer firmly. "If it helps, I can't either."

She doesn't seem to hear that last part. "Not even Kyle?"

I swallow as much guilt as I can. "No."

Taylor looks as though she feels almost as awful as I do. "I have to lie to my boyfriend?"

"I don't think of it as lying, just- avoiding the truth."

She shakes her head. "You're okay with 'avoiding the truth' around your best friend?"

My reply is quick and toneless. "I don't have a choice."

Taylor frowns, then nods sadly.

"Plus," I continue. "I feel so guilty that part of me doesn't want to tell him. I really dread that day."

"Wait," she says, horrorstruck. "Is it possible that he'd be a werewolf, too?"

"Possible? Yes." Again, my answer comes without any form of inflection.

We pull up in front of Taylor's house. I grab her stuff for her, and make to walk her to the door.

"Thanks for taking me to MedExpress," she tells my mom.

"No problem, honey," Mom replies.

I walk Taylor to her front door. "I'm sorry for everything. And we never really studied for Chem."

She shrugs. "I'll just have to figure it out, I guess. And don't be sorry." She then uses her good arm to take her things from me and opens her door.

"Taylor," I say, stopping her. She turns to look at me. "Thanks for believing me."

"Brian, you're a lot of things," she says. "But you're not a liar."