Miles Hollingsworth, a grade 12 bisexual, billionaire, "bad boy " more than the boyfriend of the girl in the accident.
Olivia Pomegray, a grade 11 hopeless romantic, rich, "good girl", now with even more trauma than before.
The third series of Degr...
I couldn't stop thinking about what Zig had said all day. I had saved him? I didn't remember any of it. I hadn't even remembered him being on the coach much apart from the brief conversation before we got on. I kept thinking about the look in his eyes, they looked at me with so much appreciation and expectancy and I couldn't for the life of me remember why.
"Olivia." Frankie waved in my face and I was brought back. Right, girls toilet, after school. Girls chat. "Yeah?"
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"You were wrong, he hates me. I'm immature. " Frankie expressed looking embarrassed sitting on the floor. I didn't think she was in the mood to hear how unhygienic it was. "Is this about Jonah? He said that?!" I asked shocked. Shay came out the toilet and washed her hands. "Got track practice, see you girls tomorrow." She smiled at us before walking out.
"Olivia, stay here and I'll explain the whole story ." She replied.
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I hadn't even started to form a reply before Lo had jumped in there for me. "Frankie, she has that therapy thing remember? I'll stay, I know I don't hold a candle to Olive's wisdom but I'll do my best."
"Are you sure?" I ask relieved. "Yeah, I haven't got anything worthwhile on anyway." She shrugged. I smiled at her gratefully at her for helping Frankie, allowing me to go find Novak.
I didn't have to look too far as he was sitting on a waiting seat outside the toilet. "You knew where I'd be?" I asked smiling at him.
"I waited with Tiny to walk Shay to practice, I assumed you'd have gone with her. Would have been pretty awkward if you hadn't." He explained truthfully and I laughed. "Yeah definitely would." I nodded, Novak creeping outside the girls toilets definitely would have raised suspicions.
"Can I carry your bag for you?" Zig asked shyly after a moment of making our way to the gym.
"Do I look like I can't manage?" I retort feeling slightly insulted. I did not spend months of rehabilitation for people to treat me like I was disabled. I wasn't, not anymore.
"I was just asking." He shrugged in return, his muscled shoulders slumped heavily. The anger dispersed as I realised he genuinely was. He had asked purely to be kind, it wasn't a twisted joke or an attack on my ability. I blushed, embarrassed at how much my guard was up, I didn't normally snap like that.
