A/N: Okay, here goes. First Bechloe, usual disclaimer stuff. Also, I do not live in America therefore do not necessarily fully understand the High School Education system. If you see a mistake, please let me know.

She was typical.

But that was okay, because she knew she was.

She was a typical, All-American girl next door. Head cheerleader, but not stupid. Popular, but not mean. Intimidating, yet incredibly approachable. She was nice. As in ridiculously so. Not that she really thought so herself, she just considered it to be optimistic friendliness. She never spoke down to someone, or condescended, only responded in light tones and the occasional excited squeal.

She was beloved by everyone in school, teachers and fellow students alike. Her infectious smile managing to melt even Mr. Fogburn's old, should've given up on teaching about 30 years ago, heart. Everyone wanted to be friends with her, and almost everyone was. From the jocks, to the nerds, to the goths, to the orchestra geeks, everyone would swoon when greeted by their own actual name.

Every time.

How she managed to memorise the names of the entire school was anybody's guess, but she somehow achieved the impossible. Not her best attribute, however, as it has led to a spot of trouble here and there. Like the infamous incident of the asthma attack she had induced in scientist-to-be Jeffery Hickory after chirping his name in her usual sociable way. She had tried to apologise afterwards, of course, but when her affectionate personality automatically placed a hand on the scrawny shoulder of her victim... Well, let's just say the asthma attack was much less embarrassing compared to the ambulance that was summoned to pick up the fainting teen.

Her friends were also quite typical, though much different to their bubbly companion.

The blonde was the typical HBIC Cheerleader type. Perfection was a bare minimum. 4.0 GPA was expected, 3.9 was failure. Routine practiced and performed slickly, one arm out of place or a second behind was another hour of practice. She was sharp, abrupt, and probably more feared than even the principal herself. She also had the reputation of having made a kid faint, though it did not stem from an overwhelming sense of niceness. Needless to say the kid was scared shitless, transferring schools later that year.

The other was a tall brunette that had somehow managed to convince the teachers and principal that six inch stiletto heels were not only not a violation of the schools dress code but also an essential part of her intricate learning process. They really couldn't argue with her, she was their top student in most subjects, even winning them state and national recognition in a few science competitions. So maybe she wasn't the typical party girl, but most of the time it was easy to forget. She didn't project smart, she projected sex. She walked like sex personified and she flirted with anything with a pulse. Innuendo was her first language, followed closely by English smattered with sex jokes. Yep, with the amount of daily cleavage the brunette displayed, it was easy to forget that she could easily be the first female president.

They were an odd group. Not the left out, sit in the corner of the cafeteria eating their feelings odd, more mismatched. They shouldn't work, but they do. Since kindergarten they had been inseparable following a bullying incident that had left the redhead sitting alone in the sandbox with tears in her eyes. The blonde had promptly found the boy responsible and wrestled him to the floor in the pursuit of justice. The apology had been swift and tearful before the boy was finally released back into the wild. The brunette, who had been watching from her favourite oak tree, had swiftly put down her book to approach the still misty-eyed victim. The lollipop that was magically produced from her pocket finally got a megawatt smile to spread onto the face of the little girl that had been wronged. All three sat together for the rest of lunch getting to know each other.

They haven't looked back since.

Their popularity was cemented in middle school, based solely on a certain someone's… assets arriving a little earlier than the other girls in their year. Even when the rest of the class caught up, the three girls had become infamous, through no real input of their own really. The aim wasn't to become popular. The initial plan involved one cheerleader, a science nerd and a musical geek making their way through high school with invisible cloaks on. The type of people that when someone looked back in their yearbook, they would need to think for a minute or two before coming up with any memory of them.

But their plans have never really panned out how they wanted them to.

The redhead, bless her soul, despite her popularity and intensely optimistic outlook, was actually incredibly clumsy. The epitome of this being her plan to let her crush know she wanted to date him in her freshman year. The plan was to walk up to him and plant one on him before admitting her feelings for him. She thought it would be adorable, and sweet. The results, however, left much to be desired. Not only did she completely misjudge the distance to his mouth, she also misjudged the speed of her approach. Long story short and one swift headbutt later, Sam was carted off to the nurse's office, fingers gingerly pinching his now broken nose in an attempt to stem the, disgustingly heavy, blood flow.

Even the perfect have their flaws.

The incident was overlooked and easily forgotten by the fickle student populace. Safe to say though, she never attempted to hit on or approach any more guys. From that moment on she solidified her role as the chased rather than the chaser.

And god damn was she chased.

She had everything. She was nice, funny, smart, friendly and her body was absolutely ridiculous. She was the dream for many men, and a few women here and there. She was the girl you took home to your parents with your arm around her waist. She was the girl you held onto for as long as you could, because you knew that after her you would be spoiled forever, the rest of your days spent finding someone that could possibly live up to her.

Yet despite her many, many offers, she never did a lot of dating. She was incredibly polite to those who became bold enough to ask her out. That patience did tend to wear thin when the occasional douchebag's ego flared at her kind rejection. They were easy to spot, sunglasses could be seen on their person even when inside, hair over-gelled to 'perfection', always somehow chewing gum, never saying a girl's name, referring to them only as 'babe' or 'sweetheart'. They often dropped lines like 'c'mon, you and me would look totally hot together' or 'babe, no need to act like such a bitch, I could show you a real good time'. That last one was always particularly grating, as if somehow 'bitch' could be considered a term of endearment in any possible way. While the smile would remain on her face, it would have visible hints of strain. Her voice would remain polite, but would go up half an octave as she became tense. She was nice, but even she had a limit.

Luckily, she had attracted only a few of those dicklicks (not her words), most accepting refusal like proper human beings. The lucky ones, as they had been dubbed, consisted of exactly three guys.

The first?

Mark Kyne. Freshman year.

There was nothing overly special about Mr. Kyne, nothing she was particularly attracted to. It was more time and place than person if she was honest with herself. It was an awkward time. Both her best friends had managed to snag boyfriends quite easily, both being incredibly attractive and confident women they had about as many offers as herself. In an attempt to feel less lonely, and to fill in the time usually spent with her best friends, she had said yes to the next boy that asked her out. Enter Mark.

Still in his awkward development stage, Mark was kind of tall and gangly. He wasn't unattractive, but he had yet to grow into his body, his face still had traces of baby fat which, coupled with his glasses, made him a little bit dorkier looking than what was probably expected for the perfect girl. He also had a habit of getting incredibly nervous around her, as well as any other pretty girl, resulting in a visually unnoticeable but distinctively odorous load of sweat. Like, an amount that would ruin shirts. She became weary of him putting his arm around her shoulder, not only was the weight and length of his arm rather awkward and hefty, but staying conscious when her senses were overwhelmed by nothing but his… problem… was not the fun experience you'd think it would be. Needless to say, the relationship didn't last too long for the obvious reasons. However, she had much more tact than to just say that, citing irreconcilable differences as the catalyst of their split.

Next came Nathan Matherson. Sophomore year.

Her month long tryst with Mark had definitely stared her away from quick decision boys. And boys in general for that matter. She didn't realise they would be that… gross. Put off for the rest of the year, she decided that the next boy she dated had to be a little more, developed than Mark had been, lest she be stuck with another sweaty McGhee or a bad odour Doug. Doug being a boy in their class that refused to listen to the gym teacher's pleading for him to wear more deodorant. He excuses that spray deodorants release harmful chemicals into the environment and he was unwilling to pollute Mother Nature with anything more than a one second spray under each arm. When offered roll on, the idiot boy refused, saying it didn't work as well. She swears she's never seen a teacher look so ready to punch a student.

Nathan was in Chemistry with her. Their last names were next to each other on the roll, dictating that they sit together and be lab partners. Nate was a little goofy, but he was smart and, she's willing to admit, quite attractive. Like Mark he had brown hair, but where Mark's was oily, Nate's was perfect. A hint of styling gel had his hair perfectly coiffed, but not so much that she couldn't run her hands through it during heated make out sessions in his car. He rocked the purposely messy look, the one that people put a lot of effort into to look like they put in absolutely no effort at all. They had more to talk about than she thought, he was much smarter than he let on and they often found themselves studying together.

In a way, she considered Nathan to be her first real boyfriend, as she learnt more about relationships with him than she ever did with Mark. It no longer felt awkward or forced, she actually wanted to spend time with Nathan, go on dates, hold hands, kiss him. She was not afraid to hold Nate in more intimate embraces, becoming bolder in her exploration of the human anatomy.

Nate was not her first kiss, but he was the first one that meant something. After a long night of discussing secrets and boys, her friend had taken it upon herself to teach her two, inexperienced, friends how to properly suck face. She protested at the time but when it finally came down to business she sent a silent thank you for the lessons, especially after his enthusiastic and positive response.

Their relationship came to a not so respectable ending after 7 solid months of dating. When the relationship began, she had admitted to him that sex was almost guaranteed to be off the table. She was 16 and didn't feel ready to commit her virginity on a sexually charged whim. Besides, she needed love to make that step and despite 6 great months, she couldn't say she was in love with him, or willing to give him such a big part of herself. Her overtly sexual friend had told her that virginity was not as big of a deal as she thought it would be, but then again she never really thought it was a big deal to start with. She knows she lost her virginity last year, and while she had absolutely no judgements, she didn't want some casual fling. She wanted the real deal.

She wanted to be in love.

So when Nate started to become a little bit more petulant every time she removed his hand from her inner thigh, she began to think about splitting from a quickly turning relationship. Despite their long running relationship, she didn't feel at all put out by the idea of breaking up. Sure, she was sad that she would probably lose a good friendship and make out partner, but she thought she'd feel… More. More sadness over her dying relationship, an overwhelming urge to want to save what they had. Instead it felt like she was splitting from a friends with benefits agreement, and that confused her more than anything.

As she suspected, Nate was a more than a little bitter about their break up, becoming angry rather than sad. He did quite a bit of yelling before storming out, yelling 'cock tease' over his shoulder as he went. Dejectedly, she took note of the fact that she wasn't surprised in the slightest.

Tom is the last on the list. Junior year to present.

It was inevitable really. The Cheerleader and the Quarterback. Typical high school romance. They had seen each other around a lot, the cheerleaders and footballers often hanging in the same circles. She had talked to him on occasion, was talked to about him on others. While she was still dating Nathan, it was let slip that Tom had a crush on her. She's never been one to cheat, and let the knowledge slip to the back of her mind. That was until a 'returning to school' party held at one of the popular girls' houses brought it rushing forward during an ill-advised game of spin the bottle. The kiss ignited a spark she hadn't felt for the others, though that may or may not have been the alcohol.

A few days later came an awkward looking Tom with a bunch of flowers and an invite to dinner that Friday night. She had no reason to say no. He was another step up from Nathan, much the same but much sweeter. He was a little bit taller, and his role as a footballer player giving him a bulkier upper body and what she would always describe to others as 'rippling abs'. He wasn't as smart but he still held his own, as per the educational requirements of participating in high level school sports. His lack of smarts was more than made up for by his charm. He would open doors for her, pull out her chair, get her lunch and even sometimes give her little gifts. She loved his good morning and good night texts, finding them absolutely precious and would often gush over them with her girlfriends the next day.

The brown hair was becoming a pattern.

Her parents had more than liked the boy, his future business career at his father's firm made him a charming and stable young man for their little Chlo-Bear. They would invite him over for dinner every other week, most of the night spent listening to her father and Tom discuss business. As the local Diner owner, her Dad valued a hardworking, independent business man that was much like himself.

It was the start of senior year and they had been together for just under a year. She was more than excited because not only would she be seeing the school again, but she would be seeing Tom for the first time in months. He had gone to intern at his Dad's company for the summer, the LA division and was returning in the late hours the night before starting back. She had yet to see him and could barely contain her glee at the idea of seeing her boyfriend again.

So here she was. Standing in her typical school, waiting for the typical boyfriend that matched her typical, All-American girl lifestyle. Her life was a stereotype, a movie, a classical trope overdone in films.

Because her life was perfect. You could almost plot it on a graph from now until the end. High School sweethearts marry, have 2.5 children, white picket fences. Dying at the age of 92 hands clasped together and smiles on their face.

Chloe Beale's life was coveted, everything she needed it to be, and everything she ever wanted.

Too bad the new transfer kid was everything but typical.

A/N: Please don't forget to review or follow or whatever. Hope you enjoyed this instalment, the next should be up soon.