Page 5 of Moonflower

“Matt!”

“Whatever. I’m going to bed.” He heads into our room and shuts the door harder than he needs to.

I sigh, re-cleaning the bathroom, which only pisses me off even more. All I want to do is distract myself with one of the shows I’m currently watching.

Once the water is warm, I step under the spray. Immediately, my mind goes to Ezra and Wilder. What would it be like to shower with one of them? With both of them?

I glance down at my round stomach and ample thighs. There’s no way we could be together in this shower. It’s too small, especially considering Wilder and Ezra have both towered over me since we were young teens. Combined with their ridiculously broad shoulders from working out all the time, this thing is just too small. But maybe in a bigger shower . . .

Stop. Just stop, Cora. That’ll never happen.

I finish scrubbing myself clean and then dry off. After getting dressed, I settle on the couch in the living room. But I find myself scrolling through my shows, not really wanting to watch any of them.

Maybe I should try journaling.

I look around for a notebook for a minute, but then I realize I’m not sure I want what’s on my mind written out on paper. What if Matt snoops through my stuff or finds it by accident? That definitely wouldn’t end well.

Settling on the couch again, I grab my laptop and pull up my old blog. It used to be my own sort of journal when I was a kid. I’d post shitty poems, pictures I took, and whatever thoughts were running through my head.

I made my blog private my sophomore year of high school, so no one has access to it. It’s the perfect place to rant without having to worry about someone reading it. And maybe if I can write out my feelings about Matt, and then the jumble of thoughts I have about Ezra and Wilder, I’ll feel better.

“It’s worth a try,” I mutter, hitting the button to create a new post.

And then I start typing.

Chapter two

Wilder

One week before Halloween

I groan when my phone vibrates on my desk. Texts, DMs, emails, notifications—sometimes it’s just too fucking much. My senior year of college has already proved to be exhausting enough. Having my phone go off every twenty minutes only adds to the stress.

There are only two people in this world I consistently message back and forth with—Cora and Ezra. I rarely reply to anyone else unless it’s important. Still, avoiding my notifications is a recipe for disaster. If I let messages sit for too long, I end up ignoring them for weeks. So I abandon the article I’m working on and check my phone.

Mom: Did you get my e-mail?

Wilder: I never check my email.

Mom: Found a job I think you’d like. Pays well.

I roll my eyes. Of course she did.

My parents both want the best for me. I get that. It’s endearing, honestly. But it’s also annoying as hell—especially when I’ve already got my own thing going. The problem is that my thing is freelancing as a tutor online and making videos and articles to explain math concepts to kids.

I’ve wanted to be a math teacher since I was a teenager. I’m fucking good at it. I’m pretty sure I’m the only reason Cora and Ezra passed their math classes, so I’m a decent teacher as well. But after some hands on experience in the classroom, I realized online may be a better setting for me.

Still, freelancing is much different than having a steady job at a school. I think it stresses my parents out. Either that or they see it as only a college gig.

Maybe they’re right.

Mom: The job is in Philly. Close to Cora.

That catches my attention. When me, Ezra, and Cora started college, we knew there might be a possibility that we’d never live in the same town again. And since Cora has been avoidant lately—and she’s not coming home for Halloween even though she fucking promised she would—that reality seems to be setting in.

I’ve been secretly hoping Cora would move home after she graduated. But now I wonder if she’s planning on staying in Philly. Depending on how things are with Matt at the end of the year, he may sway her decision. I hate the thought—I hate him—but I can’t change that. No matter what, though, it’s looking more and more like Cora’s not going to move back home.

With a sigh, I push her from my mind. I have to finish this article, and then I have to do homework. And fuck, it’s already after 8 PM.

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