Close As Enemies

Four.

Now Playing... Hit Me With Your Best Shot

    Thunder cried out from the blackened sky, like the prelude to a great song, impetuous rumbling permeating the air every bit as much as the sudden rain. Thunderstorms had never been my forte, but I loved the rain, especially the way it seemed to have a soothing element most things in my life hadn't.

Streaks of pure white crackled against the ominous night sky, lighting my room for a split-second before everything grew dark once more. Jagged bolts endlessly protruded, filling the sky with undying flashes of radiance. The last lightning strike-- the one that shook the whole house-- was enough to get me out of bed. I walked into the bathroom and closed the door, letting out a scream when I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. Drawn on my face was a curly mustache, and my forehead read "PAYBACKS".

"Wesley Grayson, I'm going to freaking murder you!" I growled, ferociously ripping my door open and storming down the hall into Wes' room. He was lying on his bed, his fingers moving across the keyboard of his laptop at top speed, headphones dangling from his ears. Oh, and did I mention he was shirtless? Let me just tell you; the boy was toned way too nice for his own good, and his natural olive tan made it look as if his skin was glistening like tanning oil on a perfectly sunny day. Damn him and his perfect body!

While I stood there, looking like a dog on a hot summer day with the way my tongue was probably hanging out of my mouth, Wes glanced at me, his eyebrows raised, before he fell into fits of laughter.

"Oh... My... Gosh..." He laughed harder, clutching his toned stomach. "Greatest paybacks ever! I have to take a picture."

He held up his phone, and I heard the click of the camera before he fell into another fit of laughter. Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared at him. "This," I hissed, pointing at my face, "Is not funny. This is childish, and I really thought you had better than that."

Wes stood, walking over to his dresser to grab a pair of sweatpants. He slid them right below his waist, so his v-line was still visible. *Fans self*. Heaven help me. Wes looked at me again, his laughter returning.

"Sorry, Molls." He cheekily grinned, chuckling under his breath. "I can't take you seriously with that face."

Molls.

For a second, my whole body froze, a long, freezing cold chill running down my spine. It was only a nickname, but it was his nickname for me. Nobody ever called me that unless we were very close, and it had been years since I heard that nickname-- especially from his lips. Like a great rush of water, memories of us flashed in my mind. The truth was, we weren't always enemies. I had known Wes since I was just a little girl, and he was my absolute best friend. We did everything together, from birthdays to Christmases, and we were never apart. That was, until one day, mistakes were made (which I still wonder if they were intentional or not), and we immediately became enemies.

Looking up at him, I swallowed the lump in my throat. "What... what did you just call me?"

Recognition flashed in his eyes, but he quickly covered it up with a confused, nonchalant look as if he had just greeted a stranger. "Your name? You know, it's Molly? Get with it, baby doll."

"Don't call me baby doll." I muttered, rolling my eyes as I made my way towards the door. "You have a pathetic excuse of a girlfriend you can call that."

"Whatever you say, baby doll." Wes and I headed downstairs. Just as we reached the first floor, another rumble of thunder rolled through the sky, shaking the house a little, and I shrieked, jumping into Wes' arms and burying my head in his chest, my hands clutching his arms. His arms wrapped tightly around me, which shocked me completely considering he hated me, and I shook with fear. "Seriously? You're still scared of thunderstorms?"