Mutual Hatred - Love Game (13 page)

Everyone had fun messing around in the pool, eventually stopping to eat. It turned out Sean Sinclair was quite the cook; he had whipped up several of Shelley's favorite dishes and was now making hot dogs and hamburgers.

Finally, it was cake time. Shelley wasn't surprised when she saw the cake. Eighteen candles, plus one to grow on, on a pink-and-white princess cake, decorated lavishly with fake jewels and mini crowns. It had definitely been her mother's idea.

"Happy Birthday, Princess Shelley!" it said.

Everyone gathered around her to sing happy birthday. After cutting and distributing the cake, Shelley's mom declared that it was time to open presents.

Shelley hadn't opened presents like this since her 13th birthday. After that, she'd stopped having huge parties and toned it down to small gatherings.

From her parents, she received . Various family and friends gave her CDs, DVDs, and gift cards. Mr. Wise handed her what she thought was finally the last present.

After reading the card (
So it's your 18th birthday…
it read on the cover; on the inside it said
You're legal! Happy birthday!
Everyone on the team had signed it), Shelley gingerly unwrapped the enormous box. There was a clipboard (what football coach doesn't have one?) and underneath, a windbreaker jacket that had the words "Wilson High School Football" embroidered on the left hand corner with
Shelley Sinclair
written in neat script below. On the back was a fairly sized football with the word "COACH" written in it.

"Now it's official," Mr. Wise said warmly, patting her on the back. "You're going to need that when the season starts."

It was such a sweet gesture. The team crowded around her for a group hug while everyone else
Aw
ed.

Wiping several stray tears from her eyes, Shelley put on her brightest smile. "Thank you
so much
for everything, everyone! It really means a lot that you did all this for me! And I don't know how to thank you!"

Her guests mingled for a few moments before trickling out. Shelley stood at her front door, personally thanking everyone and saying goodbye. As Johnny was leaving, he told Shelley,

"You'll get your present on Monday," he said with a wink.

Brandon, Taryn, and Alex were the last to leave.

"Thank you so, so much Taryn! You're the best!" squealed Shelley. "Thanks for coming, Alex."

As Shelley watched Alex lead Taryn out to his car, Brandon was nervously shuffling in his place. After much debate, he finally pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Shelley.

"My mom picked it out," he mumbled and quickly ran down the steps.

Shelley looked down at the box Brandon had handed her as she absently shut the front door. Ignoring the other gifts she had received, she curiously took this one up to her room. It was obviously jewelry; the white ribbon securing the bright bluish-green box told her so. What else would come from
Tiffany's
?

Carefully, Shelley untied the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box. She gasped when she saw what was inside.

It had to have been custom made. Tiffany's definitely didn't normally sell this; it must have cost a bundle!

There, laying delicately on cotton, was a necklace. It had the most delicate-looking silver chain Shelley had ever seen. What was most surprising was the pendant
on
the necklace.

A silver football, with her name engraved on the back in elegant handwriting.

For someone who 'didn't like her', Shelley thought Brandon was being awfully generous.

But then again, he said his
mom
had picked it out.

Well, kudos to Mrs. Miller, then.

Chapter 11 – Never Mistake Cockiness for Self-Esteem

After opening Brandon's gift, Shelley immediately started wearing the necklace. It had received a lot of compliments and she didn't think she would ever take it off. Shelley had been surprised at the thought (not to mention money) that had gone into the gift. Perhaps Brandon's mom had 'picked it out'; something told Shelley that Brandon had had a say in it though.

As the team went through their drills, Shelley's thoughts wandered to what Johnny's gift would be. He hadn't said a word to her all morning, just a warm smile when their eyes met. It wasn't like she expected presents from anyone; honestly, Johnny's presence at her party had been enough. But still, she was curious. Shelley had a feeling it wouldn't be anything she expected.

And oh, my. It definitely wasn't.

It literally dropped in her lap after practice was over. The boys were in the locker room, showering and whatnot while Shelley sat outside, waiting for Johnny. After about ten minutes, Johnny sped out of the locker room at full speed towards Shelley, clutching a bundle of clothes. His friends were hot on his tail as he dropped the clothes in Shelley's lap.

Shelley looked up. "Um, why did you give me your clothes?" she asked dubiously.

"They're not Johnny's clothes," Chris Torres said with a wide grin.

"Excuse me?"

Johnny let out a hearty laugh before saying, "They're Brandon's."

Anyone still confused? Shelley definitely was.

"I don't get it."

"Brandon was taking a shower and his clothes were sitting on the bench. So we took 'em. He only has a towel now!" Johnny explained gleefully.

"Why do I want his clothes?"

"Let's just say Brandon's gonna walk out here in about thirty-seven seconds with only a towel around his waist. And you're going to like what you see. That's a promise," assured Johnny.

And just as Johnny had predicted, Brandon stomped out of the locker room seconds later. And boy, oh boy was he furious.

"Nickol where the
fuck
are my clothes?" he roared.

Shelley's eyes widened. Johnny definitely hadn't been lying. She liked what she saw. Anyone who said otherwise would have been lying. Because Brandon had the nicest body Shelley had ever seen. And that was just…wow.

Snap out of it, woman!

And here he was, walking towards them now. It was so funny watching him huff like that. Johnny leaned over and whispered in Shelley's ear, "Happy birthday."

She grinned at him and said, "Hm, thanks. I'm not sure which part is the present, but I'll take it."

As Brandon stood before her, he held out his hands. "Sinclair, give me my clothes. Now."

"Say please," said Shelley.

"Give me my damn clothes," Brandon said stubbornly.

"Say please," she repeated.

Brandon rolled his eyes. "Fine.
Please
."

"Please what?"

"Give me my clothes!"

Shelley shook her head. "You forgot to say please."

"
Please
."

"Please what?"

Good lord, was it just Brandon or was their conversation going…NOWHERE? In fact, it seemed to be repeating itself. He wouldn't be making the same mistake twice.

"Please give me my clothes," said Brandon, defeated.

Again, Shelley shook her head. "Nah. I'd rather not."

"But I said please!" he said, almost stomping his feet.

God he sounds like such a kid now
, thought Shelley, laughing to herself.

"I never said I'd give them back to you if you said please."

"Why the fuck are you so fucking infuriating?" asked Brandon, running a frustrated hand through his wet hair.

"Tut tut, language, my dear," Shelley said airily.

"A thousand apologies," Brandon snorted derisively, "Why the fuck are you so fucking
annoying
?"

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" spat Shelley.

"Not lately. But I kissed you, didn't I?"

Shelley diverted her eyes to the ground. "Don't remind me."

Brandon raised one eyebrow. Just one. "Ah," he smiled knowingly, "Regrets?"

"No," said Shelley, shaking her head defiantly, "My mom always told me 'never regret anything, because at that moment it was exactly what I wanted'. And I think she's right. Maybe some of the things I do are a little reckless or impulsive. But in the back of my mind, I know that that's what I wanted."

"How touching," Brandon said dryly, pretending to wipe a tear away from his eye.

"Can we break up the sob session?" said Johnny, sneering at Brandon. To Shelley, he said, "Why don't you yell at him? That's always fun!"

Brandon made a rude hand gesture at Johnny and said, "Suck it, bitch!"

"I'm going to go now," Shelley said exasperatedly, "Johnny, you and Brandon both better be in one piece tomorrow. If you're not, I'll be sure to finish the job."

Without waiting for an answer, she spun on her heel and was about to make her way to her car when Brandon grabbed her arm.

"Hey, are you going to hang out with the kids today?" he asked breathlessly.

Shelley narrowed her eyes. "Does it matter if I am?"

"I was just wondering," shrugged Brandon.

"Well it just so happens that I
am
going."

"Cool," Brandon said, trying to sound nonchalant, "I'll see you there, then."

"Whatever, Miller," smirked Shelley. "But make sure you put on some clothes, okay? I don't want the kids to see you like that. Their ears are already scarred from your foul language. I don't need little kids who want their eyes replaced or something."

"If you care about them so much," Brandon gritted his teeth, "Give me back my clothes."

"No way!" shrieked Shelley as he tried to pry them away.

"You're such a fucking bitch," he growled.

"See, that kind of attitude isn't going to get you anywhere in life. And it's especially not going to get you your clothes back."

"You just want to see me beg, don't you?"

Shelley pretended to think about it for a few seconds, finally answering, "Yeah, pretty much."

"No fucking way!"

"Okay well now you really aren't going to get them back. See ya later!" Shelley ran off before he could do anything about it. Behind her, she heard Brandon putting his oh-so-colorful language to use. Silently laughing to herself, she set Brandon's clothes on the hood of his car. Who said she was completely heartless?

As the afternoon wore on, Brandon didn't show up at the Community Center. The kids were so excited to see him, too! It made Shelley a little worried; had something happened to Brandon? But she shrugged the concern away, justifying it by telling herself he changed his mind about coming.

Ironically, Brandon showed up in the hallway just as Shelley was leaving. Clearly he had gone home to change; this outfit was completely different from the one she'd left on his car. Shelley couldn't say she didn't like it; Brandon had impeccable taste. He always wore anything that he knew would look good on him.
And boy, did he look good
.

"Thank you, Sinclair. It means a lot to me that you think I look hot," said Brandon, his lips twisting into a smirk.

Shelley clapped her hand over her mouth. Had she really said the last part out loud?

Brandon rolled his eyes. As if reading her mind he said, "You didn't say anything, but it's so obvious you were thinking it."

"Absolutely not!" scoffed Shelley, "You're not
that
good looking."

"Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, Shelley." Funnily enough, Brandon said it with a straight face!

Oh, how she wanted to burst into laughter! Sadly, the kids were still around and she didn't want to attract too much attention. Instead, Shelley settled for, "You're the only guy I know who would call himself 'beautiful'. Do you really love yourself that much?"

"Actually, I do," Brandon said proudly, "I'd rather have a high self esteem than a low one."

"Brandon, that's not self esteem. That's just being a cocky ass!"

Shelley thought it was a major turnoff that Brandon was good looking and
he knew it
. Brandon was well aware of his physical appearance and used it to his advantage. Whether it was his mom or a teacher, that boy could sweet talk his way out of anything.

Shelley was the exception. Until now, he'd been used to having his way. The football team? He ruled it. The school? Don't even get me started. His new coach being in the picture posed several ego-blowing problems. For one, word had gotten out that he succumbed to her orders. But it wasn't like he could say 'no'! Suddenly, he remembered Kyle's party and the revenge he had vowed to carry out. Brandon Miller was a man of his word. No more going soft on Sinclair. She may have won that battle, but Brandon wasn't about to lose the war.