:|:- - - Pour Some Sugar On It - - - :|: (Hayley)

I liked cleanliness. I honestly enjoyed it, which is why I was quite annoyed by the current state of my bedroom. So when I finally let some air into the house, I looked around the living room, which was in it's usual state of dissarray. Mom and Dad liked to be outside, doing who-knows-what. Sure, they loved me, but I didn't have to nessicarily know what they were doing constantly. Mostly because I don't really care about them. They really know to leave me alone a majority of the time. I guess this was a good thing, but it usually left me alone with a house that was really quite askew. And I had to organize it, of course. The blanket on the bench needed to be folded, and the ottamen to the sofa must be straight and aligned to the television in such a way that my little sister could watch the hunger games and experience all the death and gore that went with it in a calm and stoic state. Yeah, she's kinda of a sadist. I perfer to hole myself up in my room and talk to Nichole when I can.

So as I finally organized my little column of the living room, making sure that everything was perfect, I strolled into the sanitary kitchen, running my fingers over the smooth, white tiles of the kitchen countertops. Mom fussed over them being clean. And sometimes, I'd dab out things with them. Like marijuana. Yeah, I'd stab out a joint on the precious countertops. Mom probably would notice the smell at one point, and Dad would be consulted, but they'd just assume it was a mishap with something and not blame their POOR innocent little Nate. I like to think that they accept this type of reality that I am perfect because of how I isolate myself from them. Well, not on purpose, of course. I'm just too busy with drugs and sex, is all. And organizing obsessivley, as some people would point out.

I ran my fingers on the kitchen countertops, and then opened the cubbard above the stovetop, grabbing a wilted apple from a basket in the top. It was a bit old and chewy, but I guessed I'd eat it anyway. It was getting moldy, and if I cut off the skin, maybe I could throw it away if I didn't like it. And eat the skin, or save it for frying or something. Out of habit, I shone the apple on my shirt, twirling on the heel of my shoe before hightailing it back to my room, my feet clacking against the floors, which were an odd combonation of carpet and wood, something that was fairly odd to find in my district, since most people had wood all the way through.

With some form of wondering, I strolled across the room and precariously opened the door to my room, only to find Nichole sitting crosslegged on my bed, with the sheets thrown to the honestly, and to my regret, dirty floor. Of course, Nichole snuck in and was smoking some of the marijuana in my underwear drawer storage. I didn't understand the girls logic sometimes, with all the stealing and rapturing of the products in my underwear drawer. For all she knew, there could of been hands of dead people or something, and she goes ramshakling through the drawers. I just eyed the girl, trying to find some wondering in my gaze. She had blonde hair and was quite pretty, and as I would usually think, I suddenly had an idea. Well, with our pact we made, I kind of eyed her and blinked.

I'd known Nichole ever since I was five and loved her like a sister.... Well, if I wanted to make a pact with a sister that before she turned seventeen and wanted to sell any drug with me, she'd need to... Well... Yeah.... I'm sorry, but the talk of sex sometimes freaks me out. Especially with my best friend.... Yeah, a little awkward.

When I went into the room, and stood there and looked at her for a few seconds before finally releasing my anger.

I've been called a whore, yes. A manwhore, to boot, I've been deemed. One of the most calculatulating thoughts, you could call me someone who is slutty. I know, sad term, but true. I like my sex. And drugs. And whatever.

But still. I like to think of myself of control of my life. Of the people around me, of the things I sell, of pretty much anything that concerned my person. I didn't care if it was anything for me. I really didn't care. And with that, when my best friend pressed her lips to mine, I probably had a spazz attack in my obsessive compulsive little mind.

Well, more of an OH.MY.GODITSFINALLYHAPPEEEENNIINNNGGGGG moment. Well, of course. If you've been begging your best friend to sublimially have sex with you, you'd probably be pretty damn happy about a kiss. But, no. My relief was cut off just as the moment that she kissed me, jerked away and said something very hurtful to me. Of course, I probably wanted to break down crying at that moment, but I knew I couldn't. I musn't cry in front of someone who just kissed me. I musn't. And, to top it all off, I wanted to finish this cleaning, and I was frustrated.

Thats when I started digging through the bottom of the room, setting up things against the wall. Each item that clacked against the shelves made me more agitatated with the state that my relationship with my best friend (I was kind of hoping for the friends with benefiets thing, but that'd been thrown down the toilet.) But as I threw another item onto a shelf, running my hands over the top of a book and then slamming one of my jackets to the bottom of the closet. A wire hanger was tossed to the ground dramatically and pretty soon I was cleaning up even more of a mess. Well, if you really think about it, it wasn't a mess. Just more of a disorganized clutter.

.....My mind was pretty much that at that moment. Stupid smoke from Nichole's marajuana was starting to get to my head. Stupid backsmoke. It had a proper term that really couldn't work. And with that, I was just DONE. I was about ready to take the fucking weed out of her hand and tell her to go die in a hole.

And in fact, by throwing my sweatshirt at her, this could be told.

Nate was a bit irritated by his friend. She was a bitch, at times, he knew this. Why he even tolerated this bitchy, inexcusable behavior he did not know. Oh yeah. 'Hormones' or whatever. Stupid Nichole. Stupid hormones. Stupid world in general, I guess. Stupid Nate. The world was pretty much the stupidest thing at the moment in his grey-blue eyes. Of course, he would probably, if he was really being blunt, would probably chant "SEXSEXSEXSEXSEX" reptitivley (and annoyingly, much to most peoples despair)

But no. For no apparent reason, Nate Hayes was going to spiral into being an emotional wreck. Well, especially when she kissed him for the second time. And Nate, with huge eyes, looked at her and tried to push words between his teeth. Of course, this wasn't going to happen. Nate Hayes wasn't going to speak anything until he could whimper out something that was coherent. Finally, Nate just threw his hands into his face and mumbled something that sounded like "Whatever."