The Bet-MLB

Chapter 3- Classmates and bad luck

Marinette sat at the back of the classroom, waiting for the bell to ring. She had gotten there early just to try and avoid any confrontation regarding that blonde-headed jerk. She hoped and prayed that Adrien wouldn't be enrolled in the same major as her.

She heard that since it wasn't a very popular major, all the students would have the same classes. Hopefully, he went for something like teaching since it was something he dreamed of doing when they were younger. Or at least business like his father once wished. At this point, she didn't care, as long as it was far away from her. But the nerve of the guy! How dare he use still use the nickname?! He didn't deserve to call her princess, and most definitely, not add the word 'my' in front of it.

She was not his. She would never be his again!

 "Princess," the nickname he had given her their freshman year of high school. Back when they were so close. When she loved him, and he loved her. At least as a friend, that is. He confessed to loving her as more than a friend once, but it had been a lie. The day after, he took it upon himself to tear her heart to shreds. She remembered she was 'his princess', and he was 'her knight'. And some knight he was. That awful day, he made sure her heart stayed locked away for good. No key, and no tower for a prince to rescue her. Just her, alone, forever! 

The bell finally rang signaling the start of Fashion Designing 101. Upon noticing all the faces in class, Marinette let out a sigh of relief. Luckily, they were all unfamiliar faces, meaning she didn't have to put up with any drama. The next thing she noticed was the professor. 'Was that Luka Couffaine, the youngest fashion designer in the United States?' She thought to herself. 'He is more handsome than I remember,' she continued. 'Wow, what are the odds?' She continued. Maybe this was her lucky year after all.

"Good morning class, my name is Mr.Couffaine, and welcome to Fashion De-" The professor was interrupted by a loud bang as the door flew open and slammed on the wall. 

Or maybe not!

"Shit," Marinette mumbled quietly. She always knew she had bad luck, but each year it seemed to become worse.

There he stood, the fable, and gorgeous, Adrien Agreste. 'Gorgeous? Wait, what? No! Bad Marinette,' she mentally scolded herself.

"Could this day get any worse?" She whispered as she placed her face on her hands, and rubbed her temples. She suddenly felt the urge to puke. The one year she believed she could officially get away from anything with the name Agreste, she gets utterly screwed over. AGAIN! How was it that out of the millions of girls who wouldn't mind getting screwed by the famous Adrien, she is the one with the bad luck? Marinette could swear that this was intentional. Ever since junior year, Marinette was sure life itself was trying to screw her over. Either that or the Agrestes. 

Why did he feel the need to continue to torture her after what he had done?

Adrien ran into the class, panting. "Sorry I am late, Sir, I had an emergency to take care of," Adrien stated at a loss of breath. The rest of the students began to whisper amongst themselves, but Marinette only rolled her eyes. 

His excuse was just about the stupidest one yet. It was more than obvious it was a lie. He must have not checked his appearance before coming into class. Hell, he is lucky he even remembered to put his clothes back on. Though it was clear, he forgot how to button up his shirt right. His lack of brain usage is the main reason why Marinette hated him with all her being. That and his disgusting new personality. 

'God, how did I ever fall in love with that thing?' Marinette asked herself.

"Mr. Agreste, correct?" The professor asked, earning a nod from Adrien. "Well, next time, please make sure to tell your emergency to clean the lipstick off your face before leaving. Now, it is your first day of school, therefore, I will allow you to come in, but know that that will not be the case next time. Please have a seat," the professor continued, giving Adrien a slight glare.