Read Mutual Hatred - Love Game for Free Online Page B

himself and with her peripheral vision, she saw him corner the waitress, as if trying to persuade her to do something for him. Definitely not hitting on her. She's too old. He's up to something! But what?
    When the food came and the waitress handed out their food and the boys dug in. It was like watching pigs eat at the trough. Disgusting . No manners at all.
    Shelley sniffed her crepes, suddenly wary. Brandon was still gone from the table, so she switched her plate with his. Shelley waited until he came back before eating.
    "Well, aren't you going to eat?" he asked her.
    "Yes."
    They simultaneously picked up their forks and Shelley could tell Brandon was watching her out of the corner of his eye. She was watching him too. Brandon shoved a portion of his whip cream-covered crepe into his mouth. And immediately he spit it out.
    "Argh! That was fucking sick!" he bellowed.
    "What's wrong?" Shelley asked sweetly.
    He narrowed his eyes. "Its shaving cream, not whipped cream!" he exclaimed in fury.
    "Ah, good thing I switched my plate with yours then."
    His eyes widened just like she'd imagined they would. Brownie points for his mouth dropping open too.
    "You fucking switched plates!" he accused, "You bitch! I hate you!"
    "I didn't know it was shaving cream."
    "Then why did you switch the fucking plates?"
    "Watch your language, honey bun."
    "The hell with that!"
    "Well when the waitress came over here I noticed she specifically gave me the plate closest to her. And then I smelled it. It even smells like shaving cream, you asshole. Raspberry! It's almost as if it was meant for me to eat it. But I decided to let you taste test it for me," she said innocently.
    He groaned. Damn plans always backfired on him!
    "So I guess you were trying to poison me with shaving cream? Not very smart, Miller. Maybe you are as dumb as I thought you were."
    "I'm not!" he said angrily, "I just…oh forget it."
    "So much for the truce," she said brightly, "I guess it really is 'on' now."
    "Oh you have NO IDEA," he snapped.
    Shelley lightly patted him on the head, messing up his perfectly spiked hair.
    "I'll be ready."
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 5 – Nothing to Do with the Game
    "He told me I was beautiful inside and out!" Shelley wailed.
    It was Friday night and instead of going out like she normally would have, Shelley had opted to stay home. She was in her bathtub, which was filled with bubbles, and talking to Taryn on the phone.
    "And there's something wrong with that because…?" Taryn asked in amazement.
    "I don't know! Coming from Brandon it's almost an insult!" whined Shelley.
    "Don't complain! I'd be lucky if a guy even noticed me!"
    "Plenty of guys notice you! They tell you you're hot all the time!" said Shelley as she slowly got out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor.
    "But none of them tell me I'm beautiful . Haven't you heard the saying 'Find someone who calls you beautiful, not hot'? You found that guy!" Taryn gushed.
    Shelley carefully dried herself with a towel. It was hard when one hand was holding a phone. "It should be 'Find someone who calls you beautiful and means it '."
    "Maybe he did," said Taryn reasonably.
    "Maybe he didn't."
    Shelley struggled to pull a shirt over her head.
    "When did you get so cynical?"
    "Since assholes started saying nice things to me."
    Getting pants on was another feat.
    "Shells I would NOT be complaining if someone told me I was beautiful, even if that someone was a jerk. That was SO sweet of Brandon!"
    There! Finally dressed. Shelley threw herself on her bed and stared at the ceiling.
    "You're such a sucker for sweet talkers," chided Shelley, "I bet if someone wanted to kidnap you all he'd have to do is tell you you're beautiful and you'd go with him!"
    "I'm not that stupid!" cried Taryn, "I'm just saying, maybe Brandon really meant it. How often do you think he tells girls that?"
    Shelley snorted. "Like every day!"
    "Bad question. How often do you think he means it?"
    "Zero percent of the