Close As Enemies

Prolouge.

Close As Enemies Rewritten. Copyright © June 2019. All rights reserved.

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         Somebody I Used To Know 

    Chasse, leap, eight count of chaîné turns, axe spin. Kicking my right leg forward with pointed toes, I pivoted in a revolving whirl of sharp precision, attempting to achieve grace. I repeated the combination once more, and after I felt like I had perfected the sequence, I landed in a jump split, a wide grin plastered on my face.

Our dance coach stood, clapping and smiling. "Alright, girls! Let's run this dance one more time, and then you're free to go!"

The rest of the girls groaned as they stood, getting back into their starting positions, but I smiled more. Don't get me wrong-- I wasn't happy about doing it again, but I would never complain. Dance was the one thing I loved to do. I breathed, ate, and slept it. Plus, you don't complain too much when there is only one thing you could do, and that one thing was your passion-- especially when there was no guarantee that you would be able to keep doing that one thing.

So, I returned to my starting position, patiently waiting for the music to start. As the melody blasted through the speakers, I was off, spinning and twirling into a world of grace and elegance. Lost in my own world of eight counts and beats, letting my heart and soul fully fall into step with the movements and beat of the music.

The song ended, and I breathed heavily, sitting in my pose. Our coach clapped again, an impressive look on her face, which signaled for us that we were done. I walked over to my dance bag and replaced my jazz shoes with my flip-flops.

"Great job today, girls. It looked fantastic!" Our dance coach called out as we all started walking out. "Remember, if you have a solo, your classes are tomorrow and Thursday. Have a good night!"

I pulled my bag on my shoulder and walked out of the studio, hopping in mom's car. She smiled at me as I threw my bag in the back. "Hi, honey. How was dance?"

"It was good. I have solo class tomorrow." I replied, and mom nodded as she backed out of the parking lot, her hand resting on the back of my seat.

"Okay. As soon as you get home, I need you to get a shower and look presentable. My best friend's son is coming to stay because his parents are leaving for a business trip."

When we reached the house, I slid out of the car, grabbed my dance bag, and walked through the front door of our house, heading towards the laundry room. As I was throwing my clothes in the washer, I admired the stone walls surrounding the washer and dryer, and how everything was always decorated so nicely in our house, compared to when we first moved to the new house. My step father had lived alone since his first wife died, and since they had just moved into the new house when she died, he didn't get much time to decorate it, considering he was the CEO of Starbucks-- not to mention, he owned half of the franchises in our area. When mom and I moved in with him, she took it as her job to make the house more lively by decorating it in all things primitive.

I lived in Beverly Hills, and even though living in that area was considered to be the area of the prissy, uptight wealthy, I never grew accustomed to that lifestyle. I was happy with my old clothes, that had conveniently still fit me after four years, but of course my mom and step dad chose to buy me more clothes after a couple months of living in California. Before we moved in with David, mom and I used to live in Montana with my father, but that was a story I chose not to reminisce. There were still times when people pinned my family and I as the snooty rich people-- even though that was far from the case-- but I loved my new life. It was a major upgrade from my old life, with moving from a one story, two bedroom house to the huge two story, five bedroom mansion we lived in with my step dad. Not to mention, I moved far away from my worst enemy.

Once the washer started running, I grabbed my dance shoes and ran up to my room. I threw the shoes in my dance drawer, and then I grabbed a white skirt and a purple v-neck. A long, hot shower was needed to relieve my aching muscles, and once I was finished, I wrapped a towel around myself and brushed my long, light brown hair, before pulling it to the side and braiding it. After drying myself off, I slid on my outfit and applied light makeup. Glancing at myself one last time in the mirror, I walked downstairs to the kitchen, where mom was making her famous turkey dinner, consisting of mashed potatoes, gravy, turkey, stuffing, green beans, and corn.

"Why the feast, mom?" I asked, and she glanced at me over her shoulder, smiling, before she returned her attention to the turkey, basting it.

"Well, I figured we would eat well since her son is coming, and it's his favorite meal." When mom mentioned it being his favorite meal, I froze for a second. There was only one person I knew whose favorite meal was turkey dinner, and that was... him. And if I was being honest, I panicked for a split-second at the thought of him coming back, but then I realized how close to impossible that could be, and I relaxed again. I sat at the dining table beside my step dad, and he shot me a smile.

"How was dance, Moll?" He asked, looking up from his newspaper, and I fiddled with the bracelet on my wrist.

"It was good. I have solo class tomorrow." He nodded, returning his attention back to the newspaper.

"I think I'm taking you to that." He mumbled before glancing at my mom, who was preparing to place the turkey on a plate. "Is that right, Stacy?"

Mom smiled at David, grabbing a knife for the turkey. "Yeah. I have to take her son out to get him some things he's going to need."

As my parents continued talking, I walked into the living room and flipped on the TV. The first thing on was Gossip Girl, and how could I ever not watch that? The constant gossip, scandalous moments, and not to mention that fact that Chuck and Blair were complete goals was hard not to watch. I had just finished the episode where Blair saw Chuck in Paris when the doorbell rang. Mom's footsteps echoed through the house as she crossed from the kitchen to the entrance of the house, the front door creaking open.

"Carly!" Mom squealed, and my heart pounded against my chest. It was getting harder to breathe as I muted the TV and listened, making sure I wasn't just hearing things. My whole life, I had only known one Carly, and she was the mother of him. The one person who scared me more than anything in this world, the one person I knew better than anyone, but yet the same person who would have killed me if they had the chance. Him. Just the thought of him being here was sending me into a panic attack.

I heard more footsteps walking towards the front door, but for some reason, all the sounds were muffled. The only thing I could hear over everything was my pounding heart and panicked thoughts.

"Molly, honey! Come here!" Mom shouted, and I slowly stood, my legs wobbly as I made my way towards the front door. Mom was blocking my view of Carly and the other two people there, but as soon as she stepped to the side, my heart dropped to my stomach, and all the breath was knocked out of me. If it wasn't for the fact that his parents were standing in front of him, I would've passed out right then and there, but the only thing I felt then was a freezing cold chill run down my spine. He stepped out from behind his parents, those same, piercing green eyes devouring my whole existence. Panic ran through me again. It couldn't be. He couldn't be here. But yet, there he was, standing right in front of me, that same, wicked smirk plastered on his lips.

Wes. 

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Hi, loves!

I know I've said this a million times but I am so excited and happy to share this with you. I've worked very hard to create the final image I wanted for the trilogy, and I paid close attention to your guys' comments to make it the best it could be.

This trilogy would be nowhere without you, my lovely readers. 

Please comment, vote, share, and follow! 

As always, thank you for reading!

Much love, 

-Abby