Page 1 of Moonflower

Chapter one

Cora

Note: This book contains some darker themes/kinks. Please flip back and read the Before You Read section if you haven't already.

Two weeks before Halloween

Nothing has the power to ruin your day like realizing you’ve fucked everything up. Royally and irrevocably. And nothing will make that gut-wrenching feeling hit harder than sitting on your bed and staring at your wall of photos of you and your best friends.

My heart aches as I survey the section that’s full of pictures of the three of us dressed in Halloween costumes and laughing at the camera. The photos start young—when we were all five years old—and go all the way through our senior year of high school.

Sighing, I take down the last picture I have of the three of us, brushing my fingers over their faces. We’re all grinning at the camera, happy and naive. It was the day they helped me move into this apartment at the beginning of my freshman year of college.

Before I realized I couldn’t pretend anymore.

Before I stopped letting myself dream.

Before I ruined everything.

Ezra and Wilder. They stayed in our hometown for school, and I moved to Philadelphia to attend Westview University. It gave me the distance I needed to get over my stupid fantasies. Well, that was the plan, anyway.

As if my thoughts summoned them, my phone buzzes. When I grab it, I see Ezra’s grinning face staring up at me from the screen.

I accept the video call, plastering on a convincing smile. Ezra appears, his brown curls falling into his pale face. It’s been a couple months since I’ve seen him—we’ve mostly just texted or done normal phone calls.

“Hey, Moonflower,” he says with his signature, heart-melting smile. “How’s it going?”

My fingers curl into a fist all on their own, crumpling the edge of the picture I’m holding. Shit. I let it fall to the bed. “I’m good. Overwhelmed with homework, but what’s new, right?”

He groans. “Yeah, I get that.”

“You . . . uh. You grew out your hair.” I peer down at my screen, trying to get a better look at him. It’s been almost half a year since I’ve seen him in person, and the realization makes my heart ache.

Ezra’s smile falters. “You don’t like it?”

“I . . .” My mouth goes dry. It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s that I love it. And currently, my only thought is of threading my fingers through his soft curls while he has his head in between my legs.

Ever since we were teens, I’ve wanted both Ezra and Wilder. It’s a selfish thing—one I know neither of them would go with. And there’s no way I can choose between them.

So I left. I came here for college, found myself a boyfriend, and tried to move on. My plan has failed miserably—I can’t get either of them out of my head—but what am I supposed to do? If I can’t have both of them, I can’t have either of them.

“Does it look bad?” Ezra asks. “I can cut it.”

“Oooh, let me try,” Wilder says mischievously somewhere off-screen.

I shake off a shiver. “No, I like it. It looks cute.”

With a frown, Ezra says, “Cute? Like a little kid?”

“No! No, like . . .” My voice is too high-pitched, so I pause to take a calming breath. “It looks hot.”

“Oh.”

Silence. Then Wilder appears on the screen, pushing Ezra out of the way. His summer tan has mostly faded, and his dark hair is still styled the way it always is—short but still long enough I could run my fingers through it.

“You’ve never called Ezra hot before.”

“I’ve never called either of you hot before.” It’s too close to the truth.

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