Page 38 of Moonflower
Yep—that helps. It’s not just that I know how they feel. It’s that we’re together again, even if we’re all focused on our own things. It makes me happy.
And having that appointment scheduled helps some, too. I actually did something to help myself. It may be small, but it feels like a huge weight off my shoulders.
After another minute of secretly watching them study, I turn back to my laptop. This homework isn’t gonna do itself. And I need to get it done so I can be fully focused for tonight.
Chapter nine
Cora
“Where are we going?” I ask.
After dark, the boys blindfolded me and put me in the back of Wilder’s car. We’ve been driving for what feels like a half hour, and they won’t tell me anything.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Wilder says from the driver’s seat. His voice gives away nothing—no hints of excitement or mischief or lust.
Groaning, I slouch down. The last thing I want is for someone to see me and think they’re actually kidnapping me. Thankfully it’s dark enough no one should be able to see into the windows.
Eventually, we come to a stop. One of the guys gets out, and then I hear my door opening. Someone—Wilder, if the smell of his leather jacket is any indicator—leans over me and undoes my seatbelt.
“Time to walk, pretty girl.”
After helping me out of the car, he closes the door.
“Where are we?” I say. A slight breeze blows through my clothes, so we aren’t in a garage or something. But other than that, I’m clueless.
“I want you to know something, Moonflower. If you express that you want something, Ezra and I will find a way to give it to you. Always. You understand?”
“I do.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’ve expressed that I want a lot of things. Especially if I include that second blog post Wilder read.
He guides me to . . . I don’t know where. My foot catches on something, but Wilder keeps me upright. Or is it Ezra?
“Ez?”
Silence.
“Where’s Ezra?”
“Don’t worry about it.” There’s something almost predatory about the way Wilder says it.
Dread courses through my veins, but it’s quickly followed by a tentative sense of delight and anticipation. “Wilder . . .”
“You scared, my pretty Moonflower?” He shoves me forward harder, almost making me trip.
“Y-yes.”
“Good.”
We walk in silence for another minute. Leaves crunch under our feet, and I hear a couple twigs snap, too.
“Are we in the woods?”
“Maybe.”
“In the . . . in the dark?”
He chuckles, a low and dangerous sound. Then he stops me, and I feel his fingers brushing against my hair as he undoes my blindfold.