Chelseas 18Th Birthday Ch 01 5

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."

"Now that's uncalled for," Brent called after him.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*

"Dude, you don't have anybody to screw tonight, man!" Clay said out of nowhere. They stood in the hallway in front of his door talking as Clay held his bag of dirty clothes. He'd stayed the last two nights at Brent's apartment and it was about time to get some privacy. "You've gotten laid every Saturday night since like, February or some shit."

"Dude, shut up. I had to break up with her. I'm tired of just seeing her on the weekend. It's bull shit. Not worth it."

"No pussy tonight, bro," Clay said bluntly.

"You don't know that, dude." Brent pictured Chelsea's full, round ass filling out those gym shorts as she walked away that morning.

"You goin' to the club after your little fling with that weird girl?"

"I might and so what if she's weird? I think she's cute," Brent admitted.

"Bro, seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. She

is

cute. Anyway, don't worry about my dick. When the hell's the last time you got laid?" Brent was getting annoyed with Clay's rudeness.

"I'm waiting for the attractive ones, man," he teased, laughing proudly at his low blow.

"Dude, man, she's fuckin' cute as hell. And maybe she has a brain. And I didn't ever say I'd fuck her anyway," Brent exclaimed.

"She

is

fatter than Danica, man," the tall guy said.

"Clay, the fucking skeleton in Ms. Hendley's bio class was fatter than Danica," Brent scoffed. He wasn't all caught up in measuring body fat on his girls. He just wanted them to be healthy looking. He didn't mind curves; actually, he favored them.

"Aren't you going to go talk to her?"

"Danica?" Brent's attention returned to his friend.

"No, the weirdo."

"Yeah, in a few minutes," he said.

"Where you gonna take her?"

"Hell, I hadn't really thought about it since I woke up-the second time."

"Dude, when she opened the door, I almost told her she had the wrong apartment," he said laughing.

"Clay, man." Brent's brow furrowed at him. Why did he feel that he had to keep picking on her?

"She wasn't even wearing make-up."

"And? Maybe she's confident enough that she doesn't think she has to."

"She should look into it, that's all I'm saying."

"Girls don't have to look like a $5 hooker to be pretty, dude."

"I like hookers," Clay joked.

"Yeah, just like your dad liked your mom," Brent added cleverly.

"You suck!" Clay exclaimed.

"Just nipples and clits, dude," Brent retorted.

"Whatever," Clay said defeatedly. "I think your phone's ringing."

Brent ran inside and picked up the phone. "Hello."

"Brent, it's dad. Listen, how'd you like to meet me for dinner tonight?"

*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Twenty minutes later Brent was knocking at Chelsea's door. She opened the door enough to peek her head out. Brent thought it was a little weird but didn't say anything about it.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"Hey, Chelsea, there's kinda been a change of plans for tonight. I was wanting to take you to get some Chinese or something but my dad called and wanted me to meet him for dinner tonight at 7:30 at Juliard's." Brent sensed a little disappointment in her eyes. "So, you have a dress you can wear, right?"

"What's that?" she asked with two raised eyebrows.

"It's a really nice joint. The ladies usually wear a dress," he explained. "I can get him to cancel if you don't, and we'll just go somewhere a bit more chill."

"No, I've got something. That's fine, yeah."

"Okay, good. Well, I'll pick you up at 7 then."

"Okay," she stammered. "Okay." It's all she seemed to be able to say.

"Later," Brent said with a charming smile.

"Okay."

Perhaps tonight isn't the night, Chelsea, but I will figure you out. And I will take you to my bed.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Five minutes before 7, Brent was again knocking at her door.

"Just a minute," he heard from the inside. Shortly after, the door opened slowly. Brent was leaning against the banister a few feet from her door and he could tell, even from over there, that Chelsea had put on a little makeup.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Um, unfortunately, yes. I need a favor and this is really embarrassing. Please don't laugh."

"What is it?" Brent inquired, walking closer. He tried to push the door open but it was held closed. Chelsea sighed.

"I can't zip up my dress," she said softly.

"Well, I can't help you if you don't let me in," he replied teasingly and perhaps a little bit flirty. He gently pushed the door open and found her clutching desperately to the long zipper that started just above her panty line. "Oh, one of those zippers," he noted.

"Yeah." Chelsea let go of the dress to expose her nude back. The black strapless dress had built-in cups so she wasn't even wearing a bra. If it wasn't as tight fitting as it was, she could have slipped it over her head.

Brent studied her naked back. He grasped the zipper in his fingers and pulled until it stopped after only about two inches. "It's a tight dress, you might want to inhale." He dare not say, "suck in." When she complied, he placed his hand on the small of her back at the base of the zipper. She trembled slightly at his touch. The soft skin of her neck was begging to be kissed but he refrained. That would surely scare her off. He knew he'd have to be extra careful with this one. Again he began zipping up her dress, keeping his hand on her lower back. When he reached the top, his hand slid over to her hip as he pulled her hair back over her shoulder so that it was behind her once again.

"Thanks," she said softly. "Let me grab my purse." She walked over to where her black and white checkered purse was and changed her mind. "Never mind, I'm ready."

"You look nice. The dress is hot," he said causing Chelsea to blush.

"Thank you."

The trip over was quiet except for when Brent broke the silence one time and said, "It looks good on you."

"The dress?"

"The makeup." He paused and continued after not receiving a response. "You looked fine without it but it looks really nice," he added hoping she didn't take it the wrong way.

"Thank you," she said shyly, almost inaudibly.

He noticed Chelsea constantly looking at him the entire way to the restaurant. He had to pretend he didn't notice; he didn't want to embarrass her.

The maitre d' seemed to have been expecting them and led them to Brent's father's table.

"Howard Hawkins. You must be Danica," the mans said, standing and extending his hand.

"No, dad," Brent interjected.

That wasn't at all awkward

Brent thought sarcastically. "This is Chelsea. I'm not seeing Danica anymore."

"Oh. Alright then. Nice to meet you, Chelsea," he said and shook her hand. "Sorry about that. Have a seat and we'll order."

Chelsea seemed well entertained by Brent and Howard Hawkins. They told her that Howard owned many of the businesses in the city including Juliard's and her apartment building. That's why Brent lived there. She also discovered that Clay lived in the same building, just down the hall.

The trio carried on for a couple of hours laughing, enjoying fine food and fine company. Brent saw a new side to this quirky girl. She seemed to lighten up and relax and they actually had a really great time. Brent and Chelsea had wonderful conversations that helped them get to know each other a lot better and for the first time, Brent thought she might be worth more than what he'd initially given her value for.

It was nearing 10 o'clock and Brent's father decided it was time to conclude the evening.

"Chelsea, it was a pleasure. Thank you for your company."

"Thank you, Mr. Hawkins for the lovely dinner."

*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*

As they climbed the stairs to their apartments, laughing and talking, Brent debated on asking her inside. How would she react? He figured it was worth a shot. He was a lot more interested in her now and really wanted to spend more time with her. And he'd been dying to kiss her since before they left.

"So, you're gonna come in and chill a while, right? Don't worry, my friend's at his own apartment for a change."

"Oh, I don't know. It's getting late," she replied as if it were a programmed response.

"It's like, ten. Come in. You can leave if you get sleepy. I've got some beer. We could watch a movie, I dunno."

Chelsea hesitated.

"Well, if you don't, I won't help you with your zipper." They both smiled big and she walked over to his door. "Cool," he said.

"You want a drink?" he asked as he walked to the kitchen.

"Sure," she said. "What have you got?"

"Screwdrivers? Or beer? Or Tequila Sunrise, perhaps?" he wooed.

"Screwdriver sounds good." Chelsea didn't seem like much of a drinker. She seemed to suffer through a glass of his dad's expensive wine at the restaurant.

Brent brought back the drinks and handed one to her.

"So what did the farmer say when he found the brown cow and the brown chicken in the barn making out?"