I suggest reading the original Chelsea's 18th Birthday before reading this one.
This is Chelsea's 18th Birthday Ch. 1.5. It's Chelsea's 18th Birthday Ch. 1 except the designated points of view have been reversed. Where in Ch. 1 it was only Chelsea's POV, it is now Brent's POV and vise-versa.
Thanks to my self proclaimed "#1 fan" I've decided to go ahead and write this story. Whoever you are, please email me so I know who you are. This is dedicated to you because if you hadn't asked me to write this I wouldn't have. (You know who you are-you're the only one who gave me feedback on the Ch. 1.5 idea!)
Thanks to hkf999 for editing this piece.
*~~~~~ *Brent's POV*~~~~~*
She's totally checking me out.
Brent gathered his mail from the mailbox and sorted through it.
That's Chelsea from school. She's actually kinda cute. When did she move to Westwood Apartments?
They graduated from the same high school last spring, in the same class of 580-something. Everyone knew who he was. He was more of the popular jock type with a reputation of having no problems getting the girls, even if they did go to other schools. She probably thought he was an asshole because he had a very select group of friends and never really talked to her or anyone she knew. It seemed that everyone made assumptions about him that were usually not true. He wasn't an asshole. And he felt like he needed to prove it.
Brent locked his mail box again and started heading her way. Chelsea suddenly seemed overly focused on the 3 pieces of mail she held as if trying to hide the fact that she was focused on him. He half-smiled as he waked past her carrying his mail. It was completely obvious that she was intimidated by him. Even though he couldn't figure it out, Brent was used to girls feeling this way around him and he thought it was fun to watch them squirm when he talked to them.
"Happy Birthday," he said. As he anticipated, she gave a start when he spoke to her.
"What?" she stammered.
"It's your birthday, isn't it?" She just stared back with him. "Looks like a birthday card," he said looking down at the big purple envelope.
"Oh, no. It's actually Saturday. And thanks." She blushed, hardly even making eye contact. Her nervous reactions were stroking his ego and he was loving it immensely.
"Chelsea, right?"
"Yeah, how did you know?"
"You went to Broadmore, didn't you?"
"Yeah!" She sounded surprised that he remembered her.
"Yeah, you were the chick that got caught T. P.ing the cheerleader's locker room during the Homecoming pep rally."
"Yeah, and I also live right next door to you," she said obviously embarrassed and trying to change the subject.
"You do?" Brent exclaimed, genuinely surprised.
"Um, yeah, 8B," she said. She seemed hurt that he didn't know that.
"I didn't notice," he said with a chuckle. "Anyway, welcome to the building. See ya around." Brent started jogging up the stairs before turning back and adding," And if I don't see ya Saturday, happy birthday." He wasn't flirting, he just didn't want his new neighbor to think he was a jerk. At least, that's what he told himself.
"Oh, thanks," she called after him.
Brent walked all the way back to his apartment grinning from ear to ear.
This will be fun.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*
Brent jogged up the stairs at 7:30 the next morning and found Chelsea locking her apartment door. A mischievous smile graced his face. When she saw him she looked astonished and embarrassed at the sight of him standing there with his curly blond hair all wet. Sweat poured from his brow and cascaded down either side of his shirt. He stood there breathing heavily. He noticed her passing her eyes over his firm body.
"Hey," Brent said as he panted with his hands clenching his hips.
"What are you doing?" she said sounding a bit alarmed and confused.
"Morning run. Feels great," he managed to get out between his heavy pants. "You should try it."
Her brow furrowed and her jaw dropped in disgust. Just then he realized how it might have sounded to her.
"Whoa, girl. I mean, you should run sometime. It's good for your heart, helps you clear your mind," he stated trying to ease the tension.
Chelsea was blushing like crazy and he was really beginning to enjoy it.
"Oh, sorry. Of course that's what you meant. But I don't know. It's kind of boring to me," she said.
"Wouldn't be boring if I was there. Or is that what would make I so boring?" He chuckled.
"Oh, no! No, I didn't mean, I mean, I didn't know you were talking about..."
"I usually leave at around 7. Anytime you want to join me, you're welcome to." He figured he'd give her a break from the teasing. She was seeming really uneasy and didn't want to push her away.
"Alright, thanks. Sounds good."
Brent walked past her without saying another word and slipped the key into his door unlocking it.
"Oh, and if I don't see you tomorrow, happy birthday." He flung his shirt off in one swift motion revealing his gorgeously toned body. Not too muscular, but just how he liked it. She was totally caught off guard and he could tell she was struggling not to stare.
"Thanks," she managed to say before he closed the door behind him.
Brent smiled to himself as he headed toward the shower.
What a strange chic. Totally adorable, but strange.
Brent stepped into the shower and began to soap himself up allowing the water to rain upon his shoulders. Thoughts of Chelsea coursed through his brain. Now that he was newly single, should he ask Chelsea out? He got really turned on by shy girls and was over all these high maintenance, self-indulgent divas he was used to dating. Chelsea would be a refreshing change.
She's totally not even my type. It's so weird that a girl who would vandalize a locker room would be so reserved.
She intrigued him. She was different and mysterious. He couldn't help but be attracted to her; simply talking to her excited him to the point that his body reacted. Just thinking about her made him smile.
She probably won't go for a guy like me. She'll think I'm just trying to get in her pants.
He laughed softly out loud.
And I fully intend to. It'll just take a little more time than normal.
When Brent finally snapped out of his daydreaming, he found that he was idly stroking himself. The soap lather covered his cock that had grown significantly since he'd gotten into the shower only minutes before.
Brent increased his pace and stroked longer, gliding his nimble fingers over the head and back down his shaft.
Soon he was pumping his hand eagerly and he couldn't keep the thought of Chelsea out of his mind: her shy green eyes, her soft black curls, the way she seemed to resent that she liked him.
With a solitary and sensual groan, Brent's body tensed and an orgasm consumed him.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*
At around 7 the next morning Brent woke at the sound of knocking. He saw his best friend Clay, who had slept on the couch the night before, walk past his bedroom door toward the front door. He couldn't make out the voices so he dozed back off into sleep.
He woke again suddenly and saw the dark haired girl standing in his room. She looked bewildered and turned to walk away.
"Chelsea?!" His groggy voice halted her escape. "What are you doing here? What time is it?" he said looking around.
"7:10," she stammered.
"And what's going on?" He was struggling to wake up and comprehend.
"You invited me to run." Chelsea choked out. She seemed almost terrified.
Brent closed his eyes and threw his head back into his pillow. "Come here," he said. She hesitated but walked over and stood by the bed. "Today is Saturday?" She nodded and he sat up allowing the thin blanket and sheet to fall to his thighs. He was completely aware of the erection that pressed against his shorts and apparently so was she. She seemed to struggle to not stare at his lap. He refrained from smiling because he knew she'd be mortified if she knew that he'd seen her.
"I stay up late on Saturday nights, so Saturday and Sunday I sleep in late. I should have told you. I'm sorry," he said in a half-trance state. "Shit." He really felt bad about making her go through all that trouble for nothing. And on her birthday! He knew that if he didn't begin making her more comfortable around him then she'd begin avoiding him and he didn't want that. "Damn, you're all dressed and everything."
"I'm really sorry," she mumbled as she turned toward the door.
"Hang on, wait." His hand clamped around her wrist and he pulled her around as gently as he could. "It's my fault. I'll make it up to you. I feel really bad."
She looked like she was about to burst into tears. "Listen, Chelsea, do you have anything going on tonight?
She shook her head 'no.'
"Why don't I take you to dinner?"
"You don't have to."
"I want to. Call it an apology/birthday dinner."
She simply stood there.
"But if you don't want to, that's fine, too," he said, confused why she was acting so strange.
"Oh, no. That's fine. I'd love to go to dinner with you!" He eyes grew wider as she probably realized how suddenly excited she sounded. "I didn't mean, like, I'd
love
to go to dinner with you. I meant, like, that is a good way to...whatever."
"So, tonight then?"
"Seriously?" she asked.
"It's whatever, dude. If you got a boyfriend that'll get all pissed off, I get it, ya know. It's whatever," he said still sitting up in his bed but leaning back on his hands.
"No, it's not that. I was just kinda surprised is all."
"And your boyfriend won't care?"
"No. Well, I don't have one."
"Uh huh. Well, I know where you live. I'll come over later. I'm going back to sleep."
"Okay, later," she said and left without another word.
Brent watched her walk out of his room in her little high school gym clothes and old dirty tennis shoes. Her wavy black hair was pulled up into a modest ponytail that swung from side to side when she walked.
She gets cuter and cuter every time I see her.
he thought and laughed quietly to himself.
"Who was that?" Clay walked into the room and sat down at the foot of Brent's bed.
"A girl I went to school with at Broadmore High. I asked her to go running with me sometime at 7 in the morning and she came today," Brent said laughing. "I feel really bad about it. I'm gonna take her out to eat tonight to make up for it. It'll be really fun. She's really, really shy," he said mischievously and winked at his friend.
"You're fucked up in the head, dude," Clay said standing up.
"You're just jealous that you're not a chick magnet like me," Brent teased jokingly. "It's not fucked up. I just like it when girls swoon over me. I can't help it. I get turned on by shy girls. It's totally hot."
"Every girl's shy around you," Clay muttered walking toward the door. "Except the ones that are more egotistical than you."
