Maybe Just a Dash of Cliché

Same old story. Poor girl falls for rich, handsome boy. He thinks she's trash. She thinks he's a god. She struggles through life. He watches in amusement. But soon, he falls for her. They get together, but it's forbidden. They keep their relationship a secret. Later, his family finds out. They ban her from seeing him. They secretly elope and get married. They live happily ever after. If you think you're getting this kind of story, you better look else where. This story is a bit different from all the other cliché stories.

It's the other way around. Rich girl falls for poor, handsome boy. She thinks he's amazing. He thinks she's conceited. She watches him in awe. He looks at her in disgust.

Will this story have a happy ending?

Let's find out.

"Miss Lily. Your parents wish to see you."

"Thank you." She said, not even bothering to open her eyes. She heard the door open and then close. She sighed. She really didn't want to see them right now. She got up nonetheless and made her way to her father's office. When she got there, she knocked on the door.

"Come in." She heard her father say. She opened the door to see her father sitting at his desk and her mother standing next to him.

"Yes?" She asked politely.

"We have to talk." Her mother said.

"About what?"

"About Gregory." She rolled her eyes.

"Do not roll your eyes at us, young lady!" Her father chided her.

"Sorry." She apologized. She hung her head low.

"Now, as I was saying. Gregory is good man. He really likes you. And what do you do? You completely ignore him when he visits. Your father and I would really love it if you two got married." Her head shot up.

"Excuse me?" She was appalled. How could her parents even consider him as a husband?

"We want you two to be married." Her father repeated, slightly agitated.

"But father, I don't want to! We're not fit for each other! I don't love him!" She exclaimed. She believed in many things. And love was one of them.

"It does not matter about love!" Her father shouted, bolting up from his seat.

Her mother cut in. "Lily, please listen. Gregory is your father's best friend's son. He's perfect for you. And he's wealthy. He could take care of you. And he'll love you .Even if you don't love him. He's loyal and honest. And he will never cheat on you." She quickly glanced at Lily's father. Her mother must have thought Lily didn't see that, but she did. "Please..." Her mother begged.

Lily looked into her mother's eyes and couldn't help but have sympathy. "I'll think about it." She replied. She saw her mother visibly relax. Her father glared at her.

"You better." He warned.

She tried everything she could to not tackle him right there. "May I leave now?" She asked. Her father nodded. She hurriedly exited the room.

She went back into her room and locked the door behind her. She sat on her bed and looked out her window. She could leave this place this now. But she couldn't. She had to stay. But for now; she could spend a few hours out of the house. She changed into a jean skirt and a white tank top. She put on her white tennis shoes. She grabbed some cash and stuffed it into her butt pocket.

She opened her balcony door. Good thing the vines covered the ladder she hid there. How else was she going to get down? She pushed herself off the edge and carefully stepped onto the ladder. She safely made it down. She swiftly dodged all the cameras her parents had set up. She jumped the brick wall. Over the years, she could finally get over it without falling back down. Now, she was pro.

Lily now walked down the street, softly humming to herself. She made it to Starbucks and ordered a grande caramel frappuccino. When she got it, she went outside to drink it. As Lily sat down, she could hear rock music playing out of a bar across the street. She smiled. She always liked this kind of music. She tapped her feet to the beat. She knew this song. She quietly hummed it.

She looked around her and noticed all the other people. They were all annoyed by the music. She shrugged it off and continued to listen. Just as the song made it to the chorus, she heard a noise; a motorcycle. She looked to where the sound was coming from and saw the motorcycle make its way into the bar parking. Lily watched as curiosity settled within her. She straightened in her seat and nearly fainted when the man on the motorcycle took off his helmet. She gasped. She never saw anything so beautiful in her life. There he stood, standing by his motorcycle, the most gorgeous man she had ever seen.

His pitch black hair hung over his eyes; his eyes. They were amazing. They were sort of like a dark blue-ish color, but not quite. It was a wonderful color. She locked eyes with him. Her breath got caught in her throat. Lily blushed red. As she noticed, he looked quite young; maybe 19 or 20.

He looked at her and instantly didn't like her. He looked at her in disgust. She seemed to give off the snobby feeling. And he didn't like that. He hated snobby, rich people. They always rub it in; especially with poor people. And guess what? He wasn't very rich. He wasn't gutter poor; he made a living off of part-time jobs. But he was definitely wasn't rich; keywords: part-time jobs. He sometimes doesn't get to eat for days.

Just looking at that girl made his stomach lurch. He seemed to hate her already. She smiled at him. He looked away in disgust.

Lily looked at him, surprise clearly shown across her face. She watched as he entered the bar. She also believed in love at first sight. Yes, corny. She knows. But she felt some sort of connection to him. She picked up her drink and made her way across the street.

He walked into the bar, smelling the smoke almost instantly. He grinned. This was his kind of place. He walked up to the bar and ordered a beer. The bartender placed the man's beer on the counter. He paid the bartender. The dark blue-eyed man took his drink off the counter and made his way over to a pool table. He picked up a stick and instantly made a challenge.

"Anyone wanna play pool? One game. Winner takes all." He placed a fifty on the table. This was all his week's worth. He needed money. At first no one went up, until finally one person accepted his challenge.

A middle-aged man stood up and made his way over to the table. He was tall, but then again wide. No offense. He had a long, light brown beard that went to his neck. His brown eyes looked really dull. He wore a black muscle shirt, even though he really didn't even have muscles. Well, only in his arms. That didn't look right. A beer gut and muscled arms? Yeah, not that appealing. He wore a vest over his shirt. He had tattoos all over his arms and he had a pierced nose, but the ring connected between both his nostrils. He wore a black bandana over his messy brown hair.

Typical biker...

He thought. He refrained himself from rolling his eyes.

"I'll play you." The biker said. His voice was very deep.

The young man nodded and smirked. He threw his stick to his opponent. The middle-aged man caught it. And then he matched the young man's fifty with his own. The biker smiled down at the young man. Not a nice smile. The blue-eyed boy got another stick for himself and let the biker break. A crowd started to form.

After what seemed like hours, the intense game ended. The young man won. The biker accidentally hit the 8 ball in when he still had a couple more left. The young man smiled triumphantly. He grabbed his money off the table and started for the door. He stopped abruptly due to the biker pulling his shoulder back roughly.

"I want my money back!" The biker said angrily.

"No." The young man said calmly. He stared the big man in the eyes. Neither of them backing down.

"I want my money back." He repeated, lowering his voice to make it sound dangerous. It didn't work on the young man. The young man smirked.

"No. I won it fair and square. It's not my fault you can't play pool." Everything seemed to freeze. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Everyone knew what was going to happen next. The biker punched the younger man on the nose. Luckily, he also knew what was going to happen and stepped back a bit. The blow didn't hurt him as much. But it still hurt. He clutched his nose in pain. He stumbled backwards.

"Fuck..." He cursed under his breath. He looked up to see the biker grinning. Rage filled his insides. He moved forward and punched him back. Everyone must have thought that he couldn't stand up to the biker. Oh how everyone was dead wrong. The younger man punched the older man in the stomach, then the face, and kicked down at his legs. With one last punch, the biker fell to the floor, defeated. But he sure did give up with a struggle.

The blue-eyed boy once again turned around and started for the door. And this time, he actually made it through it. He rubbed his nose, muttering a few profanities. He looked up to see the girl from across the street, stroking his bike carefully. He was not in the mood for this.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He screamed.

Lily jumped back in surprise. She looked up and saw the gorgeous boy from the motorcycle. She blushed red. He didn't seem to notice. He was too busy glaring daggers at her. She didn't notice this.

"Sorry. I'm just..." She didn't know what to say next. She didn't know what she really was doing. She looked up and as she could see up closer, he had his bottom lip pierced. The lip ring sparkled in the light. She seemed to fall into a trance.

"You better be sorry. Now would you get away from my bike? No, that's too polite. Get away from my bike! That's better." She gaped. He sure was rude. But she didn't care. He was probably like this to everyone he just met. But she still couldn't say anything. She stepped back as he moved forward.

He stuffed his money into his pocket and got onto his bike. He glared at her then started up his motorcycle. She looked back in surprise.

"Hey-" She was cut off when he turned on his motorcycle. She watched as he rode away into the sunset. No, too corny. She watched as the smoke from his motorcycle was the only thing left behind. Eh...Better. She looked at her coffee then back at the road. As she walked home, thoughts of him crossed her mind. One in particular.

What's his name?