Chelsea

chapter three

He flung his shirt off in one swift motion revealing his gorgeously toned body. Not too muscular, but just how she liked it.

«Thanks,» she managed to say before he closed to door behind him.

She wasn't sure why she set her alarm so early. Six am interrupted her slumber as annoyingly as she had imagined that it would. Ah, but remembering why she was up so early on a Saturday morning woke her from her haze. Brent. Run. Body. Such a sexy body. She had to see it again. She showered and shaved her legs and everything. She donned her gym clothes from her senior gym class. Not too nerdy but it was all she had. Chelsea looked at herself in the mirror. Straight, jet black hair pulled back in a pony tail. Amazing green eyes that she got from her mother. She wasn't entirely happy with her round face. She thought it made her look younger than she was.

She was ready. She decided to wait until 6:55 to go into the hallway. No Brent. She sat and waited at least ten minutes.

It wouldn't hurt to knock, right? Either he left early or he's almost ready. Either way, no harm done.

Making sure to knock hard enough the first time, she hammered at the door. No answer. What am I doing? Chelsea felt stupid. She probably looked desperate. «I'm out, she said under her breath. Just then the door to 8A opened slowly. She froze.

»Who is it?" she heard a sleepy grumble.

«Its Chelsea. Its 7:10.»

The door opened for her to find a tall thin guy standing dazed in pajama pants and a wife-beater. «Who?»

Startled, she refocused and said, «I'm here to see Brent.»

«Oh,» he grumbled. «He's in his room. Come on in.» Slightly relieved and bewildered, she followed him in. He flew to the couch and got ready to reenter his sleep.

Chelsea crept to the bedroom. The door was half way opened so she walked in. Why was he still asleep? Did she look at her watch wrong? No. Confused, she glanced around the room as if might find the answer to this riddle on plastered on the wall. Books, computer, more books, a desk. Jock, whore (supposedly) and nerd?

Her concentration was broken when she heard him stir. The only thing she could think to do was flee

.

«Chelsea?!» a groggy voice halted her escape. «What are you doing here?»

She wasn't sure if she remembered how to speak. Even if she did, what would she say?

«What time is it?» he said, looking around.

«7:10,» she stammered.

«And whats going on?»

«You invited me to run.» Chelsea spoke before she could allow the panic to hinder her again.

Brent closed his eyes and threw his head back into his pillow. «Come here,» he said. She hesitated but complied. «Today is Saturday?» She nodded and he sat up allowing the thin blanket and sheet to fall to his waist. As hard as she tried not to, she found herself admiring his body again. A quick glance at his lap proved what shed heard about guys when they first woke up in the morning. There was a significant raise under the covers and she knew shed just die if he caught her looking.

«I stay up late on Saturdays, so Saturday and Sunday I sleep in late. I should have told you. I'm sorry,» he said in a half-trance state. «Shit.»

This is officially the worst day of my life, she thought. I am so stupid!

«Damn, you're all dressed and everything.»

«I'm really sorry,» she mumbled as she turned toward the door, her entire body engulfed in humility.

«Hang on, wait.» His hand clamped around her wrist and he pulled her around as gently as he could. «Its my fault. Ill make it up to you. I feel really bad.»

She was about to burst into tears and he could probably tell. «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, out of body, trying to process the entire situation.

«But if you don't want to, that's fine, too,» he said, confused as to why she was acting so strange.