Cliche. Fluff. I hope you can handle this.

CHAPTER ONE

"No!"

My phrase of rebuttal echoed through the long hallway of Boyd High School it was no wonder my schoolmates abruptly stopped at their tracks and looked at me with surprise.

How many times does Nick Adler have to hear the word "no" from my mouth just to make it clear that I, Meg Porter, didn't want to yield to what he wants to happen?

"Look, Nick," I began, trying to be a little more patient than seconds ago. "I'm the last person you want to bug because I'm extremely busy right now. You're getting in the way of me trying to mold my future career plans, okay? Leave me alone. Shoo."

I didn't have to look at him closely just to know that he was eyeing the campaign posters I was clasping with my fingers with a mocking smile on his face.

"By running student council president?" He said it with more mockery than the one he planted in his smile.

I slightly winced in vexation, but decided not to respond and kept myself occupied by attaching my campaign poster on the wall alongside the other presidential candidates'. Conversing with Nick is a big waste of my valuable time anyway.

But then I heard him laugh. Which was more than enough to make me talk to him again.

"What in the world are you laughing about?" I asked, even though I shouldn't have. It's just that my instincts told me his offensive display of mirth had to do with my posters. Now, I wouldn't allow someone to ridicule in whatever means something that I've worked hard for.

"Nothing," he answered when he stopped laughing. "It's just that the picture in your poster—you look a lot like Ms. Perkins there."

Ms. Perkins was our history teacher. She's plain, dull…and old. But I love her. She gives me A+.

"For a minute I thought you're sisters." Nick broke into laughter again. This time, it was more raucous than before. And way more offending, if you really want to know.

I clenched my jaw, wanting so much to whack him on the nose and rupture it to pieces—if only I had the strength to even cause a discoloration. But no, I wasn't gifted with a boxer's fist. If I punch him, it'll only feel like I lightly shoved his face with my frail knuckles. It wouldn't hurt.

Darn it!

So I did the next best thing.

I walked away.

And it was more effective than violence. Ha!

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," Nick apologized, holding my arm to prevent me from walking off.

He sure appeared apologetic. But, no, I couldn't be deceived. Nick Adler is the master of shadowing his falsehearted intents and lies beneath the many versions of his adorable faces and sweet smiles. He didn't become the school hottie just for nothing, did he?

"No, you're only sorry because you want something from me," I said. "For the last time, Nick, and I hope this gets through your small brain, the answer is no!"

I walked away again, instantly searching for the next spot to append my campaign poster.

"What's wrong with making out with me?" Nick jogged up to my side, and I cannot believe the magnitude of puzzlement dripping in his tone when he uttered that question.

Oh god, he's being a really huge itch, isn't he?! I stopped at my tracks and fully faced him. "What's right about making out with me?" I asked him back.

Nick fell silent, cogitating.

I gave him ten seconds and when he didn't answer I said, "I thought so," before going back to walking.

Sure, there's probably nothing wrong with making out for once in my life with a Mr. I'm-Too-Hot-And-Sexy-Any-Girl-Would-Raise-And-Wave-Their-Lacy-Underwear-Just-To-Have-Sex-With-Me, but I could definitely find all the errors if that kind of guy makes out with me.

Because I'm a freaking nerd, for crying out loud! Everything about me do not incite a goddamn look from a gorgeous guy.

Unless there's suspiciously more than to the detail of simply making out with me.

"This is a bet, isn't it?" I said when I turned around with squinted eyes, but got flabbergasted shortly afterwards when I found Nick standing a mere inch away from me.

I quickly took a giant step back.

"A bet?" Nick repeated, seemingly bewildered by my theory.

"Yes, a bet." I crossed my arms over my chest.

He stalled. He snorted. And then he sighed. "Yes, it's a bet," he finally admitted. "A hundred dollars if I can make you make out with me."

At that moment, I didn't know whether I'd be happy because my high IQ didn't fail me by correctly deducing Nick's hidden agenda; or get hurt because I was merely a key to winning a bet.

I've seen the same situation in so many movies before. The naïve nerd gets played by the hot douchebag because of a bet, nerd falls in love with hot guy in the process, nerd finds out she got played, nerd will throw a tantrum, hot guy realizes he's not really a douchebag and that he's in love with nerd, and then they live happily ever after in the end.

Okay. They still got a nice ending. But for once, can't it just be that the nerd and the hot guy fall in love with each other because of their amazing personalities? Drop all the 'bet' bullcrap?

Of course, the answer is no. Because in real life, the nerd doesn't get the hot guy, and even with a bet she still wouldn't have him in the end.

But wait, who said something about falling in love?

"Then the more I'd say no," I said pompously. "God didn't bless me with high intellectual capacity, not to mention my parents giving me their all-out trust, to do something stupid and shallow as making out with you to succeed a bet. Excuse me, but I have a life to plan, and helping you earn that hundred dollars is not a part of it."

"Yes, winning the student council president," he snorted. "And then what? President of the United States of America?" He blatantly sounded insulting.

"Why not? At least with what I'm doing, I'm seeing even just a tiny window to a bright future. Unlike you—who chooses to laze around or chase after bets to win. What are you even trying to prove? You don't need the money because you're rich. Grow up, Nick."

Deeming I've already said my piece, I pivoted to my heels with the intention of walking off. But I didn't go as far as taking a single step when I heard Nick speak.

"You're not going to win."

I turned to face him, flame shooting from my eyes.

"You're not going to win the election because nobody likes you. So what window of a bright future are you talking about when you wouldn't even have a single vote cast for you except for yours?"

I didn't know which among the cruel statements were responsible for the tears to well up in the corner of my eyes. Was it the fact that nobody in this school likes me? That I will not earn a single vote at the upcoming elections? That I wouldn't win? That this tiny window of bright future I was seeing was nothing but a delusion?

Whatever it was, one thing was for sure. They were all disturbing in nature. And no matter how hard I tried to ward them off, they just keep on ricocheting at the walls of my brain.

I knew the tears were going to drip down to my cheeks any second from now, so before Nick had the pleasure of seeing me cry, I walked away.

And this time, he completely let me.

A/N: Thanks for reading!=) More cliche and fluff will come your way in the future chapters. Cue threatening, evil laugh.