Page 7 of Moonflower

Last week, we were supposed to have a date night. We were just gonna stay in and watch a movie. Nothing else—we haven’t had sex in, like, a month.

“Thank fuck,” I mutter.

Wait. What the hell, Wilder? She’s not yours.

She’s not mine yet.

You know what the asshole did? He canceled! And it wasn’t even like he gave me a notice. He canceled the evening of our date. You wanna know why? So he could hang out with his friends. Honestly, I didn’t care about not getting to spend time with him. I don’t really want to. I think we planned the date night more out of habit than anything.

But it still bugged me. I should be with someone who prioritizes me. Who I want to hang out with. Who can clean a fucking bathroom correctly. And the thing that pisses me off the most is that Matt barely gave me any notice. If he’d had the decency to cancel the day before, maybe I would’ve been able to hang out with Imani or Brooke or Liling.

He’s selfish. So, so selfish. And it drives me nuts. But at least he’s a distraction.

I don’t know. I wish I could talk to Ezra or Wilder about it. But I can’t. Not without explaining things I don’t want to.

That’s all I have for now.

XOXO, Moonflower

I smile at the last line. She’s more productive and energetic at night, almost like she’s nocturnal. So we nicknamed her Moonflower since they bloom after dark. Just like she does.

SELFISH, pt. 2 is shown as the next post at the bottom of the page, so I click on it. It was published a mere half hour after the first part.

SELFISH, pt. 2

You know what? That’s not all I have for now. I have a lot more to say. A lot, okay?

If I’m going to call Matt selfish, then I should at least be fair and call myself selfish, too. Because I am—possibly more so than Matt.

I have a confession to make. A big, big, big one.

I’ve never been able to imagine a future with Matt. Never wanted one with him, either. I started dating him to use him to get over someone else. Two someone else’s. My two childhood best friends.

My breath catches. What? Jesus fuck.

I want them both. Ezra and Wilder. I want to fall asleep with them both cuddling me. I want us to wake up together, a bed full of sheets and limbs and a lifelong love I’m terrified I’ll never find again. I want to know what it’s like to kiss them. To live with them. To have forever with them. I want their laughs and jokes and their softness and their warmth. But I want everything else, too. The raw parts of them, their rough edges, their pain and their anger.

I want it all. Every single piece of them.

And isn’t that so selfish? To want both of them when I only have one of me to give? But I can’t help myself. I love them both.

That’s not selfish at all, Moonflower.

The reason I moved to Philadelphia wasn’t because Westview has a good nursing program. That’s what I told everyone, but it was a lie. I left home to put distance between myself and Wild and Ez. Being so close to them was killing me slowly. And then I started dating Matt to distract myself from them, but all it’s done is make me want Wilder and Ezra more.

So. much. more.

I’m wrecking everything. Everything. And it’s all because I can’t stop being so fucking selfish. I just need to let them go, but I can’t. I need them both.

I want Ezra’s gentle kisses. I want Wilder’s possessive ones. Hell, at this point, I’d take having our friendship back to the way it was. Just minus the unrequited love, please.

I dig my fingernails into my jeans. Unrequited. Unrequited?! If I’d known this was how she felt . . . Shit.

Freshman year of high school, Ezra and I both agreed neither of us would date Cora. At the time, we both had crushes on her, even though she’d been crushing on some football player.

In case that changed, we didn’t want to ruin our dynamic—didn’t want to make whoever didn’t end up with her feel left out. And I love Cora, but I love Ezra, too. I wouldn’t want to make him watch me build a life with Cora. And he couldn’t stand the thought of doing the same to me, either. So we agreed that if Cora’s feelings for either of us changed, we wouldn’t date her. Never did we think she’d want both of us.

“Fuck, Moonflower,” I mutter.

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