[WesleyStromberg] Our Flower

Twelve.

It’s embarrassing to see your ex-boyfriend when you're lying on your bed with curlers in your hair. It’s even more embarrassing to see your ex-boyfriend when you're on the phone with your best friend talking about him. Oh, and it’s even more embarrassing when it’s been years since you and your ex-boyfriend have been together and it’s clear from the phone call that you're still not over him.

“Hey, Dakotah,” Keaton says, breaking the thick silence that was lingering in my room. I don’t know why they're up here or why they even thought it would be a good idea, considering they weren’t supposed to be here for another hour. And now they know that I was trying to at least look decent for when they got here. They probably think I'm doing this to get Wesley back, but I'm really doing it to make him realize what he left behind for fame.

And that’s pathetic. We’re over. We’ve been over for a long time. And while I'm getting over the fact that someone chose me for something so short-lived like fame, I still miss the three of them. I miss my best friends. When Wesley was done with me, all three of them were done with me.

I expected that they wouldn’t talk to me afterwards, because bros before hos and all of that crap. But, it still hurt, knowing that I not only lost my boyfriend, I lost my three best friends.

“There’s this common courtesy calling knocking that people in the twenty-first century do. I'm surprised the three of you have never heard of it.” I don’t know what causes me to lose my temper, but I do, and I can’t stop the words from flowing out of my mouth. I've been nothing but a kind person all my life. I didn’t stop that in college. But, suddenly, at almost twenty years old, I've picked up some sass out of nowhere.

Okay, it’s not out of nowhere. If I'm going to have an attitude with anyone it’s going to be with the three guys in front of me. Keaton didn’t really have a choice. Wesley is his brother by blood and I would never ask him to go behind Wes and maintain our friendship. But, you know, a text message after the break up would have been nice. Something short, even like a one word text message or even email would have been super. And Drew, I don’t even know what I expected from him.

They don’t deserve my kindness. When I was little, I strongly believed that I was supposed to treat others the way they treat me. As I grew older, I learned that one way to deal with people was to kill them with kindness. Since then, I've stuck with that, but I guess I've hit the next stage in dealing with loss: anger. And really, I don’t even care.

Blinking, Wes crossing his arms over his chest, and I realize that the sleeves of his shirt are too tight because they cling to his muscles. “I don’t remember ever having to knock before coming in your room.” Knitting his eyebrows together, he tilts his head to the side, and I trace his gaze to the picture on my bedside table. It’s a picture of a few of my friends and I at the lacrosse game last year, and we’re all decked out in our school clothing.

And in that picture, I look happy. I was happy. He didn’t matter to me then. He wasn’t around then. I didn’t need him.

“I'm pretty sure you always knocked or the door was already open.” I don’t know why he’s doing this little sparring match. The state of mind that I'm in isn't going to make me want to stop going at this with him. I just want to go back to school. I like school. I love school. All I have to stress about at school is what I have to get done for my classes and all my upcoming tests. There are so many stressors here. “I don’t really know what you want from me, but I have to get ready and I still have an hour before my mom expects me downstairs, so if you three can leave and shut the door behind you that would be great.”

I notice Keaton shifts his weight onto his other leg, clearly uncomfortable with whatever is unfolding in front of all of us. Gosh, he was so young and innocent when Wesley and I were together. Hell, we all were.

“You’ve gotten quite nasty over the two years.” Wesley comments and I don’t think that he has any right to comment.

Opening my mouth to say something, anything, I close it, pressing my lips together in a firm line. It should hurt and it should shock me into kindness, but it’s not. It’s only fueling my anger towards him. “That’s funny, considering I haven’t gotten quite anything over the past two years, not that you would know.” No one knows where this is coming from, because Drew and Keaton look at me as if I grew another head.

Hurt flashes over his features, and I don’t know why, but within seconds the look is gone. Turning to Keaton and Drew, Wesley nods his head in the direction of the door. “Can you two give us some time to talk, alone?”

Shaking my head, I climb off my bed, standing up quickly, ignoring the pain in my head from the movement. “Absolutely not, I want nothing to do with you alone. But, the better idea is for all three of you to leave so I can get ready.”

“Kotah, we have to talk. It’s been two years and I think it’s time you let me speak.”

“My name is Dakotah. It’s been well over two years. And I don’t want to speak to you.” It feels so good to stand up for myself.

Knitting his eyebrows together, he shakes his head. “We’re going to talk by the end of the night, Kotah.”