Page 6 of Moonflower

Mom: Please just look into it. For me?

Wilder: I will. Love you.

Mom: Love you bunches, sweetie.

I smile at the old nickname. Then I pull up my browser on my laptop. If I don’t do this now, I’ll definitely forget. This way I can at least tell my mom I looked.

I open my personal email for the first time in weeks. I see the email from my mom, but something else catches my eye. “What the hell?” I mutter, scrolling down.

I hate email. Like, hate it. I never sign up for shit with my email address unless I have to, and I unsubscribe from everything the second I can. So why the fuck do I have two emails about new posts from a blog? I’ve never followed a blog in my damn life. But there are the subject lines, sitting right there and proving me wrong:

New Post: SELFISH

New Post: SELFISH, pt. 2

It’s probably just spam, but curiosity gets the better of me anyway. Glaring at my laptop, I open the first email. I’m greeted with the only name that has the power to make my heart stop.

Cora Grimm.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

Years ago—when we were in middle school—Cora started a blog. She posted the randomest shit on it. What fanfictions she was reading, who her latest celebrity crush was, some adorably bad poetry, stuff like that. She made the blog private when we were in high school. But at some point, I asked to read it again. I don’t remember why.

When she gave me access, I must’ve given her my email address, and it must’ve automatically subscribed me. I just didn’t know because she hasn’t updated the blog in almost a decade.

Until now.

I click on the link that takes me to the post, smiling at the pink background. But my smile fades as I read what she’s written.

SELFISH

Hi. Cora here. I guess I’m using this blog as a journal now. I made it private years ago, so no one can read it. And I think that’s what I need right now.

I almost stop reading. If she doesn’t remember she gave me access, I don’t want to violate her privacy. But I can’t bring myself to close the tab.

Over the past three years, she’s gotten more and more distant. We still talk multiple times a week, but she doesn’t open up as much. If what’s in this post will help me get a better idea of what’s going on in her head, I can’t turn down that chance.

Groaning, I rub my face in my hands. I don’t want to hurt Cora. But I need to know what’s going on.

Just a couple sentences. Just read the first couple paragraphs.

“Okay,” I mumble. “I can do that.”

I peer at my screen.

A lot has happened since I last posted on here. Graduation, college, moving away from Wilder and Ezra (I miss them), etc. I started dating a guy named Matt. He lives with me now. It sucks. Like, my fucking god. How can a person be so stupid? So ANNOYING?

Like, today, I asked him to clean the bathroom. And he did. But he missed SO. MUCH. SHIT. The shower was still dirty. He didn’t sweep. And don’t get me started on the sink.

I clench my fists. Ezra and I only met Matt once, but I got bad vibes. I wrote it off as jealousy and moved on, but Cora rarely says anything good about him when we talk. She could do a lot better than him.

A couple more paragraphs. Just to see what’s going on in her head.

I want to break up with him. But right now, he’s my best distraction from Wilder and Ezra. I know that’s stupid—why stay with a guy who makes you miserable when the only two men you’ve ever wanted are practically begging for your attention?

I have to reread that last sentence to make sure it says what I think it says. My mouth instantly goes dry, and I lean forward. There’s no way I’m stopping now.

Matt and I aren’t in love. I know he’s not in love with me. Honestly, I’m pretty sure he’s just with me because it makes for cheaper rent. Which benefits me too, but does it really? He never cleans up after himself. God, he’s the fucking worst.