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Cliché? Yes.

Cliché? Yes.

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WpMetadataReadOngoing2h 18m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jun 17, 2019
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Fanfic
1Direction
Harley McWilliams is just like any other 17-year-old girl. Except she has a slight anger issue that leads her to switch schools. Trouble seems to follow her wherever she goes, especially when she meets the four "bad boys". Hunter Henderson and his 3 friends run the school. Their classmates fear them due to all the rumors surrounding them. From the moment the boys walked in, Harley knew her year would be nothing but cliché. How cliché? More than she would expect. __________________________________________________________________________________ As I make my way to my locker to grab my gym uniform, I notice the group of 'bad boys' standing in front of my locker. I really need to come up with a name for their group. "Excuse me. You're blocking my locker, could you please move?" I put on the sweetest smile known to man as I walk up behind the group. The one with his back to me, which I believe is Hunter, glances over his shoulder, then looks back at his friends. Totally ignoring me. How rude! I asked so nicely. I grab his shoulder, almost digging my nails into his skin, and pull him to my level. He's like a foot taller than I am which usually would be intimidating, but it's me. I don't get intimidated easily. "Listen here. I know you heard and just ignored me, so I'll give you another chance. Move out of my way so I can get to my locker." I whisper through gritted teeth, still smiling. He shrugs his shoulder out of my grip. With one final glare at me, he walks away while bumping my shoulder as he passes. The other boys, whose eyes are almost popping out of their heads, follow their leader down the hall. Every so often glancing back at me. Who knew this one little interaction would have such a large impact on my life?
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#587
cliche
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"You're just too much fun to mess with," he jokes, his smile transforming into a glowing smirk. My cheeks heat, but this time with anger. My tolerance has worn completely thin. "Would you let me go?" I ask spitefully. I feel like a broken record. He pushes off of the desk and takes a step back. Before I even realize what I'm doing, I slap him square across the cheek. Shock is plastered on his face, and I'm sure it is on mine too. I stand there in awe of what I just did. It was so sudden I'm not even sure I decided to do it but rather my indignation controlling me. Steadily, Damon's face morphs from shocked to entertained. I immediately regret my action, but I'm not completely stupid; I race for the door like there's no tomorrow. "You'll regret that!" I hear Damon yell as I'm running away. ~Sugar, spice, and everything nice~ A story about drama, sarcasm, love, and twists, with a little bad boy guilty pleasure mixed in between.

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