Chapter Seventeen

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"Okay," Dylan announced, sitting the books down on his floor, despite the fact that he had a desk. "Where should we start?" He asked.

I got down on the floor, leaning against his bed. It was the side of the bed opposite the door, facing his window. If we sat like this, no one could ever find us—I knew because Dylan and I used to hide here when my mum came to collect me from his house. I never wanted to leave him, and him me.

"Maybe with you going through my work and either helping me understand what the hell I've written or telling me that I've done it all wrong?" I suggested, making him laugh. He joined me on the floor and picked up my work, spending a few minutes reading it. Whilst he was occupied, I spent the time spreading out the work so that it was easy to spot what we have and haven't done.

When he was finished, he hummed, "No, it's all right," he said, glancing over at me, raising an eyebrow, "but I guess now I'll have to explain it." He said.

I smiled, "Yes, yes please." I responded, making him laugh. He then began to explain it, and as ever when Dylan was explaining something science related to me, my brain hurt but I was understanding it.

"Do you get it?" He asked once he had finished explaining the entirety of my homework.

I took the documents from his hands slowly, "I actually did." I said, surprising myself.

He laughed, "Okay, should I explain my work now?" He asked. I'm not sure if it was meant to be a joke or not, but I nodded eagerly, shoving his work into his hands.

Again, he began to explain but was interrupted by the sound of his doorbell. He paused, frowning.

"I wasn't expecting anyone." He said absentmindedly, standing up and looking out his window.

When he turned around, he did so in a rush. "I'll be back." He promised before he escaped down the stairs.

I frowned, pushing myself up off the floor. Who could possibly be here that made Dylan bolt so quickly?

I leaned over Dylan's window sill to see who exactly interrupted our revision. Do you want to know who I saw?

Myself.
Yes, the real Olivia Clark is here.

I swore. I don't ever remember seeing Alessia here at Dylan's house but that doesn't mean that the real Olivia Clark won't see me now.

Despite my urge to stay hidden, Alessia had different urges. And, suddenly, I was tiptoeing over to the staircase, where Alessia sat, eavesdropping on Dylan and I. That sneaky bi–

"What do you mean you're busy, Dylan?" I heard Olivia ask. I remember this day. Dylan, suspiciously, made me stand behind the door frame; he wouldn't even let me into his porch. I thought maybe that he was just really busy, or he found out what Matt did, or maybe he was finally having a fling, like all of the other boys in his friendship group. Dylan was the only one who remained a virgin—he never had a one nightstand, never forced himself on a girl, never seduced an innocent just to make his popularity soar. He was a good guy. But when I remember this day, I remember feeling disappointed because I thought maybe that was what he was hiding in the house. A girl he was about to have sex with.

I wasn't too far off. I mean, Alessia is a girl who does like Dylan. Except, I don't think that feeling is, or was, reciprocated. So, I was actually wrong and, as Olivia Clark, I felt glad about that revelation.

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