[WesleyStromberg] Our Flower

Six.

I don’t think that I want to admit to anyone that Wesley and I aren’t together. I mean, it’s not like anyone outside of this town and our families know. To the world, Wesley is single; he is single, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t single and he allowed people to think that he was. Every other singer on that show with a significant other didn’t have any hesitation to show it. It was pretty obvious where our relationship was headed, and I think deep down I knew what all of that meant. But, I wasn’t ready to accept it. I don’t think I'm ready to accept it right now either.

The car ride is silent, except for the soft, quiet sound of the radio Charley put on about ten minutes in. She hasn’t said a single thing since we got into the car, and I didn’t want her to. I know that she pities me. I know that she’s mad at Wesley for the way he treated me. I know that she wants to talk about it. But, I also know that she doesn’t want to force me into talking about something so raw and hurtful.

How could he do this to me? How could he just ignore me? How could he walk away from me? How could he walk away from us, without saying anything?

Our flower is dying. And while I've been trying to keep it alive, trying to water it daily and give it attention, he’s turned his back on it and left it in a dark room. It’s no longer a daisy, a rose, whatever flower a person finds the most beautiful. It’s a weed; it’s something so annoying and in the way, something that we all just want to pluck out of the ground and toss to the side.

He just looked at me, his eyes empty. There was no love in his eyes. Hell, there was nothing in his eyes that would tell me he cares about me, even in the slightest. Everything that the two of us had is gone. I want to say that this would have happened no matter what, with me going to Cornell for college, but I don’t think that it would. I really don’t. I don’t think that me going to New York would really change the two of us that drastically. It wouldn’t have broken us up.

It’s this show. It’s his newfound fame. And while I'm happy for him that he’s following his dream, I can’t help but resent it because he always said that I was part of his dream. But, in this dream there’s no room for me.

I can hear people now, saying that it was only young love and most likely not going to last. But, there are people out there who have married their high school sweethearts, and they're not criticized. I believe in young love. I know that young love exists. What I feel for Wes isn't just lust and it isn't just a simply school girl crush on a cute guy. And I really thought that was the same for him. He wasn’t someone who would waste words; I thought that everything he told me about loving me was true.

But, he didn’t love me enough.

Maybe he never loved me at all.

The tears well up in my eyes, clouding my vision, and I'm glad that Charley is driving, because my mind is racing and I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. It’s so embarrassing. I know that no one around, none of those girls who chased after them or the people working at the hotel or anyone else for that matter besides the three of them and Simon, knows about me. It shouldn’t be as embarrassing as I feel it was, because really it’s not like people were expecting him to be excited and happy to see me.

It still hurts and it is still embarrassing because I expected him to be excited to see me. I expected him to be happy and run over to me and give me a hug. I miss the way his strong arms would wrap around me and hold me close to him. I wanted that. I just wanted to feel his embrace. I wanted to be with him, to feel that comfort and safety and sense of belonging his presence would make me feel.

My phone vibrates, causing the cup holder in the car make an annoying noise as it bounces between the edges. Groaning, I look down at the screen, my eyes meeting the “iMessage from Wesley”. A lump forms in my throat, and I don’t think that I can swallow it down, because if I try I'm afraid tears will rush out of my eyes and down my cheeks in rivers.

Glancing down at the phone, Charley bites down on her lower lip, gripping the steering wheel in her hands so tightly that her knuckles are turning white. “He has no right to be texting you. He has no right to even talk to you or look at you. When he comes back, I'm going to kick his ass. You don’t deserve what just happened. You're too good for him. You deserve so much better, Dakotah.” There’s no pity in her voice, but there’s a lot of anger. She’s been my best friend for years, and I know that she always has my back. It’s making this a little bit better, knowing that he can’t take away my best friend.

I know that she’s curious about what he sent me, and why he would send it in a text message and not call me, because he has a lot of groveling to do if he wants things between us to work out and get better. And, really, I'm curious, too. I want to know what he has to say.

Picking the phone up out of the cup holder, I bite down on my lower lip as I unlock the phone, type in my passcode – which I now have to change because it’s my anniversary with Wes – and open the message, hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst. At this point, I don’t know who he is, because he’s certainly not the guy I started dating and he’s definitely not the guy that I'm in love with.

From: Wesley

We need to talk Dakotah

And suddenly, I'm not even upset anymore. I'm just angry. All I see is red.

To: Wesley

Forget it. Words don’t need to be said. Bye, Wes. Have a great life, because I'm not partaking in it anymore.

I want to apologize for the long wait. Between what was going on other the summer and dorm life here with complete assholes, it's been crazy and I promise that updates will be a lot more frequent from now on. I would like you ask you all to check out my two original stories "At Ease" and "Open Up My Eyes". Both stories are originals, with original characters, and I'm really excited about them and would love to have your opinions on the story.