Mutual Hatred - Love Game (26 page)

And indeed, the Wilson Wildcats won again Friday night.

There were about three games away from the CIF playoffs. Exciting, no?

Brandon had to admit he got giddy just thinking about it.

But there was one thing that was on his mind constantly.

Shelley
.

It wasn't an obsession. Not even an infatuation. He just couldn't help thinking about how stunning she'd looked last week, not that she didn't always look stunning. And the way she smelled-vanilla and Beachwood with just a hint of musk. It smelled heavenly, and very attractive.

But what got to him the most was how close he had been to her lips.

So, so close.

The near-kiss had only left him curious and wanting more. He wanted to kiss her more than ever. The slightest, quickest touch would have appeased him, although something long and sensual would be nice too.

There was a party after the game, but this time it was held at Kyle's. And Shelley was nowhere to be seen. If he'd recalled correctly, Shelley had hightailed it out of the field once the game was over and everything was done.

But where else would she go on a Friday night? What could possibly be more interesting than a post-game Kyle Stanford party? They were the best!

Brandon managed to find Taryn, who was sitting on Alex's lap in a corner of the living room. Alex acknowledged his best friend with a nod; Taryn straightened up and said with a sly smile,

"Wondering where my best friend is?"

"Could you tell?" asked Brandon.

"Yeah, it's a little obvious. But don't worry," Taryn assured him, "You're so cute when you look lost. She's at home reading a book."

That again!

What was up with Shelley and reading? What normal teenager would choose to stay at home and read a book instead of going to a party?

Only Shelley.

- - - - -

When Brandon got to Shelley's, he noticed that her car was parked outside of the house. So she was definitely home. As he made his way up Shelley's front steps, Brandon silently asked himself why he was doing this. Why did he care? It was obvious she didn't feel anything for him, and he wasn't too sure he felt anything for her.

The front door swung open before he could even ring the bell.

"Bye mom! I'll be back in like an hour," called Shelley, who was on her way out.

She turned around so quickly that her hair whipped Brandon's face.

"Ahh!" cried Brandon.

Shelley gathered her hair behind her and peered at Brandon curiously.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Good question. What
was
he doing there?

"Where are you going?" Brandon answered instead.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Why are you avoiding my question?"

"Why didn't you answer mine?" she countered.

"Are you going to answer all of my questions with questions?" Brandon was growing impatient with their little game.

"Are you?" Shelley retorted.

"This is ridiculous, don't you think? We're going in circles and we're not getting anywhere," sighed Brandon.

"You started it," said Shelley.

"Did not!"

They were like children; each too stubborn to give in to the other.

"I think I have a right to know what you're doing in front of my house at 10 at night, don't you agree? I think that's more important than knowing where I'm going right now," said Shelley.

She had him there.

"To be honest," Brandon said truthfully, "I don't know why I'm here. You weren't at the party so I decided to come and, uh, visit you."

"Did Taryn tell you I was home?" Shelley demanded.

"Uh, yeah."

"Well that's the last time I tell her anything! Did you need something? I kind of need to be somewhere right now," Shelley said impatiently.

"Where?"

"That's not your concern. If we're done here, I'm going to go. But you're welcome to go inside and chat with my parents. My mom would probably love that."

Brandon noticed she didn't say anything about her dad. He got the feeling that Mr. Sinclair wasn't a big fan.

As she brushed past him and made her way down the steps to her car, Brandon finally regained his train of thought. He quickly followed Shelley to her car.

"Shelley, wait! I know why I'm here," Brandon said quickly.

She spun around and leaned against her car door, gazing at him expectantly.

Right. Well now would be the time to say something intelligent, dumbass.

"Uh," Brandon unconsciously took a step towards her, "I wanted to ask you out again."

"No," Shelley said flatly.

Had she just outright refused him?

Indeed.

"Why not? I thought we had fun last week!" he protested.

"We did. I just don't want to go out with you this week," Shelley said nonchalantly.

"How about next week? Will you want to go out with me then?" said Brandon, taking another step towards Shelley.

By now they were in such a close proximity that it was making Shelley just the slightest bit uncomfortable.
Too close for comfort
. Her back was pressed up against the car and to a bystander it would have looked like Brandon was practically on top of her.

"Maybe. But maybe not," she answered.

"I see what you're doing," said Brandon with a sudden air of confidence.

"And exactly what is it that I'm doing?" Shelley asked skeptically.

"You're playing hard to get. Well here's news for you, missy. I play hard to get rid of," Brandon said firmly.

"As if that wasn't obvious before," mumbled Shelley under her breath.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch it," said Brandon.

He leaned in closer, so close that he could hear her breathing and vice versa. Their positions were almost a mirror of last week's.

"So I guess you're not going to be leaving here without the answer you're looking for, right?" she asked.

"You betcha," nodded Brandon.

"Well you can stay out here all night if that's what you really want," said Shelley, "Because my answer remains the same-NO. Like the Capital One commercial!"

Haha. Not!

And with that as her final word, she pushed him out of the way and got in her car. She turned on the engine and back out, zooming off into the night.

Brandon dejectedly lowered his head and headed home.

Ah, the pain of rejection. Love hurts.

He never did get to find out where she was going.

Chapter 22 – Inappropriate Displays of Affection

"Shelley, I think it's time you and I had 'the talk,'" said Mr. Sinclair.

He was standing awkwardly in the doorway of Shelley's room. Shelley, who was doing her homework, slowly turned to look at her father. An exasperated look formed on her face.

"Dad, it's really not necessary. We've already been through this once! I know all about STDs and stuff, and that the only safe sex is abstinence. Really daddy, you
don't
need to do this," Shelley said desperately.

"It's not
that
kind of talk. Although now that you mention it, if that 'boy' ever tries anything on you and you don't want it, kick him in the balls!" he said loudly.

Shelley was doing her best not to laugh. She knew that if she did, her dad would think that she wasn't taking him seriously. And if Mr. Sinclair got that impression, he
would
give her 'the talk' again.

And Lord knows Shelley didn't need to hear that
again
.

Sean and Claudia Sinclair were pretty good parents. They mostly gave their daughter free reign. But if Shelley got into any trouble, she was expected to tell her parents. That was the way things worked in the Sinclair household. And judging from the past eighteen years, this method worked pretty well. Shelley had had to draw the line when her parents had proposed to give her 'the talk' summer before freshman year. Needless to say, Mr. Sinclair had even bought a book for Shelley about it, titled
You're Worth the Wait
.

It had been quite the affair. But when she looked back on it now, Shelley had to admit it was one of her funniest memories. It must have been more embarrassing for her dad than herself, though. Imagine having to talk to your daughter about sex!

"It's not just that," continued Mr. Sinclair, "I don't trust his intentions. Boys only want one thing: sex. Brandon Miller is no exception to that. He probably thinks that the key to getting 'some' is making you think he doesn't!"

"Really dad, I can handle it. We're not even doing anything like that. I've only gone out with him once, and I plan on making him grovel for a few more weeks before we go out again," said Shelley.

Well that was a relief. Sean couldn't contain his satisfied smirk. If there was anything at all his wife had taught Shelley, it was to play hard to get. Shelley had indeed learned well. That was when he realized his little girl was growing up. She could take care of herself now. Pretty soon-next year, in fact-she wouldn't need him anymore. Oh, she'd still depend on him for money, but Shelley would be in college and he wouldn't be able to lecture her on abstinence anymore.

It was time to face reality. Sean Sinclair just wasn't ready to let his daughter go yet. That's why now was the time to be the best father he could be. And if that meant keeping a close eye on Scott Miller's son, so be it.

All the Millers had been thieving, conniving, and sneaky bastards. Scott had taken Sean's promotion at the law firm, and Mr. Sinclair had no doubt in his mind that Brandon was a chip off the old block.

They could take away his job, but there was a snowball in hell's chance that Sean Sinclair was going to let a Miller take his daughter away.

"I just want to warn you that the Millers are not to be trusted. Jana and Morgan, maybe. But not Scott. And certainly not Brandon. He will romance you and he will deceive you. And then you will see him for the monster that he is. It happened to me; don't let it happen to you."

"Why daddy, I had no idea Brandon's dad 'romanced' you," teased Shelley.

"That's not what I meant," growled Shelley's dad, "He stole my promotion! We'd be richer if he hadn't!"

"Dad, that was ages ago and we're perfectly well off. We don't need money to be happy," Shelley reasoned. "Can't you just let bygones be bygones?"

"No," Mr. Sinclair said stonily, "I am not as forgiving as you or your mother. I just ask that you watch out for yourself. Can you promise me that?"

"Aye aye, captain," Shelley mock-saluted her dad.

"Okay, okay," he paused, "Well, don't just sit there! Your homework isn't going to do itself-get to work!"

And with that, he was gone.

- - - - -

"Brandon, what's this I hear about you being interested in a Shelley Sinclair?"

Scott Miller's question caught his son off guard.

"Who told you that?" asked Brandon.

"Your mom. And Morgan too, now that I think of it. This girl, Shelley, wouldn't happen to be Sean Sinclair's daughter, would she?"

"They're one in the same," replied Brandon.

"Well then I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you picked the wrong girl to be interested in," Scott said grimly.

"Why?"

"Boy, haven't you heard? Sean Sinclair will turn her against you faster than you can furrow your eyebrows in confusion! Her dad's got a personal vendetta against me, and I'm afraid it won't be ending anytime soon."

"Not Shell," Brandon said as he shook his head, "She makes her own judgments."

"Son, you're in for a big surprise. My best advice is for you to get the hell away from her as fast you can. Get yourself attached to another bimbo."

Was Brandon's dad actually
condoning
his man-whore ways?

"But I can't!" protested Brandon.

"And why not?" demanded Scott.

Brandon proceeded to tell his father about Chelsey's blackmail. Scott found it amusing, surprisingly.

"But I can assure you Shelley won't," he added as an afterthought. "The Sinclairs are not a very forgiving bunch."

"I'd better hope you're wrong, then."

- - - - -

"Surprise," said Brandon's voice from behind her.

It was Monday morning, everyone's favorite time of the week.

Not.

Shelley turned around and came face to face with Brandon, who was waving a pair of tickets in her face.

"What's this?" she asked.

"A little bird told me you wanted to go to the Backstreet Boys concert," said Brandon, watching Shelley carefully for her reaction.

To his disappointment, she merely blinked at him.