Chapter One
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 the ache in my chest grow.
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.
Wilder pouts, sticking his bottom lip out the way he used to do all the time when we were kids.
With a laugh, I say, “Fine, fine. You’re hot too, Wild.”
He gives me a satisfied grin before Ezra grabs his phone, coming back into view. “Everything going okay? Friends? You and Matt?” He says the last part more quietly, almost like he’s . . . jealous? That can’t be right.
“Friends are good. We’re thinking of going on vacation together this summer. Me, Brooke, Liling, and Imani, that is.”
“That sounds cool,” Wilder says, shoving his face right next to Ezra’s. “Kinda fast, though. Haven’t you only been friends with them for a couple months?”
“I mean, we were on each other’s radars before.”
“You trust them?”
“Of course, Wilder.”
“Dude,” Ezra says. “Chill out.”
“I’m allowed to be cautious! Our little Moonflower can be too trusting sometimes. Speaking of being too trusting, how’s Matt?”
I brush off his comment with an eye roll. “Fine, I guess. He’ll probably be home soon from hanging out with the guys.”
“I thought tonight was supposed to be date night,” Ezra says. “That’s what you told me yesterday.”
“Plans changed.” I shrug.
Wait. If he knew tonight was date night, then why did he call me?
Wilder and Ezra exchange a loaded look. My heart sinks.
“You knew he’d cancel, didn’t you?”
Ezra grimaces, and Wilder clenches his jaw.
“There’s a pattern, Cora. Don’t know how you don’t see it.” Ezra’s expression is one of deep discomfort. He runs a hand through his curls.
“I know,” I mutter.
To be honest, things haven’t been that great with Matt and I for a while. We started dating at the beginning of our junior year, and we decided he should move in with me this semester. Ever since, things have gone downhill.
Well . . . not that there was ever an up.
“You know you’re settling with him, right?” Wilder’s tone is serious. Maybe even a little annoyed.
I sigh. Of course I know I’m settling. But I can’t have what I really want. It’s selfish. And a potential recipe for disaster.
“Cora,” he says again with a hint of impatience.
“I can handle my own love life,” I say.
Wilder looks like he’s about to say something snarky, but Ezra cuts him off.
“We know. We just don’t want you to get your heart broken.”
I laugh. It’s more bitter than amused. Because the two men on the other side of my screen are the only ones who hold the power to break my heart.
“It’s not funny, Cora,” Wilder grits out.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, forcing lightheartedness into my voice. “You two worry too much.”
“Worry too much?” Wilder snaps. “Cora! This is your wellbeing we’re talking about. We’re your best friends. What’s going to happen if he breaks up with you out of the blue? You’re going to be all alone, and then you’ll start avoiding us again, and then you’ll—”
“Wild, she has other people she can rely on,” Ezra says.
“But we’re her best friends.” Wilder glares at me through the phone. “We’re the ones who should take care of you.”
I sigh. That right there is why I know I can never have both of them. Wilder is too possessive. There’s no way he’d be willing to share me with Ezra—if he even wants me. And there’s no way I can date Ezra without being with Wilder. It would hurt too much.
“What are you even suggesting?” I ask.
“Break up with him.”
“What?!”
“You’re fucking miserable, Cora. You think you’re hiding it well. But you forget how well we know you.”
Ezra nods, humming in agreement.
“I . . .”
Shit.They’re right. I know they’re right. I got together with Matt to get my mind off these two. When we started dating, we both liked each other, but at this point we’re no good together. That’s the thing, though. I’d rather be miserable and distracted than miserable with nothing to keep my thoughts occupied.
I’m not sure why Matt has stuck around. Maybe because I’m his ticket to cheap rent? Because he doesn’t have to clean up after himself? It’s definitely not the sex—we haven’t had any in at least a month.
Ezra must sense my mood souring, because he switches the subject. “You excited for Halloween, Moonflower?”
Fuck.We always spend Halloween together. The past couple years, I haven’t been able to come home because I’ve had classes the morning after. This year, Halloween is on a Friday, but I wasn’t planning on coming home. I can’t be around them. Not without my mind spiraling out of control.
“Um . . . yeah.”
There’s a slight pause. Ezra’s smile wavers. “You’re coming home, right?”
Silence. My heart practically rips in two as I take in Ezra’s broken expression.
Wilder jumps straight to anger. “You promised us you’d come back.”
“I’m just . . . really overwhelmed. With school.”
Ezra shoves Wilder, and his expression softens. His jaw is still clenched tightly, though.
“Imani and DeAndre are throwing a Halloween party at their house,” I say. “I’m going to that with the girls. I just don’t think I can manage the drive home. It’s a lot of time, and I’m behind on homework, and I—”
“Don’t,” Wilder says. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it. Sorry I snapped.”
“Is there anything we can do to help you, Moonflower?” Ezra asks.
I shake my head. “No. But thank you.”
The sound of the front door opening and closing drifts into my bedroom. Matt must be home.
“I should go,” I say.
“Got it. Love you, Cora,” Ezra says.
“A lot,” Wilder adds.
“Love you guys too,” I reply quietly enough Matt won’t hear.
I hate hanging up on them, but I do it anyway. If Matt catches me talking to them, he’ll go on a rant about how I care more about them than I care about him. Which is true, but it’s ironic considering he doesn’t prioritize me.
Maybe I should break up with him.
No. I need the distraction.
“Cora?” he calls.
“In here,” I say, picking up the picture I dropped. As I stick it up on the wall again, Matt comes in.
“Oh, are you finally taking that shit down?”
I freeze, thumbtack in hand. “What?”
“The pictures of you and those two. You taking them down?”
“Why would I do that?”
“You hardly see them anymore. Barely talk to them.”
Barely talk to them in front of you.
“I’m not taking them down. They’re my best friends.”
Matt rolls his eyes and leaves. Typical.
I resume staring at the pictures of me and the boys for a few minutes. It only worsens my mood and makes me wish for things that’ll never happen.
For me to not be so damn selfish. For Wilder to not be so possessive. For me to be okay with being just friends with him and Ezra.
“Wishing won’t get you anywhere, Cora,” I mutter.
A distraction—that’s what I need. A shower and then something to keep my thoughts off Wilder and Ezra.
In the bathroom, I pull back the shower curtain to turn the water on. Then I grimace. I asked Matt to clean in here earlier, and I swear he did. I smelled the cleaning chemicals and everything. So why is the shower still dirty?
Stepping back from the shower, I take in the rest of the bathroom. Now that I’m actually looking, most of it doesn’t look clean.
“Hey, Matt?” I call.
“What?” It takes a second, but then he appears in the doorframe, arms crossed.
“Did you . . . did you clean in here?”
“Yeah.” He raises an eyebrow, like he knows exactly where this conversation is about to go.
“But it’s not clean.”
“It is.”
“There’s still soap residue on the shower walls. And it looks like you didn’t even sweep.” Or clean the sink.
He peers into the bathroom. “Looks fine to me.”
“But it’s—”
“If you’re going to be so nitpicky, maybe you should’ve done it yourself.”
I clench my fists. “I’m not being nitpicky.”
Matt rolls his eyes. “You’re just like my mom. All you do is nag.”
“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 and put my favorite lotion on. After getting dressed, I settle on the couch in the living room, ready to relax, but I find myself scrolling through my shows. None of them seem appealing.
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.