Forgetting Luke

This is a typical love story. You have the protagonist. The new girl at school who's extremely pretty and whatnot, who secretly has depression. Her name is Suzy. You have the hopeless romantic who the protagonist 'falls in love' with. His name is Luke. You have the best friend, called Naomi. The best friends soulmate, Michael. The bullies. The boyfriends friends. Just a load of friends. You have the new home, the dead family member, the 'overprotective' mother who really doesn't care. Then there's the twist. This love story isn't perfect, in fact it might be the opposite of one. This is how Suzy, our protagonist, forgot Luke. (Thanks to all of my co-authors: Suzy_Hemmings, ShortPrincessa and Emress for working with me and helping me with my very first Movella) Updates any time from Friday-Sunday (hopefully) https://www.polyvore.com/forgetting_luke/collection?id=5198648 (Outfits for story on Polyvore)

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28. When the only person in the world that matters is the purple haired boy sitting next to me

~1 day after the accident~

I sat by myself on the bench again. It's always raining in England. I guess it matches my mood then. 
This is Naomi by the way, if you hadn't guessed already. 
Yesterday I got a call from Mike. He told me about Suzy. About the accident. About Luke. The amnesia. Everything.
I wish I was there. 
A felt a tear slide down my cheek. My galaxy hair stuck to my face in the cold. It was wet; partly because of the rain, partly because I was crying. This isn't the first time though. 
I swear I have cried more in the last 24 hours then I have in my whole life. 
Suzy doesn't remember me. Those words kept playing in my head as more and more tears escaped my eyes. Soon I was full on sobbing. Whimpers left my lips as I cried my heart out until my throat hurt and my face went numb.
Suddenly I felt an arm wrap round my shoulders. The same arms pulling me into their chest. I seized up at the unfamiliar but amazing smell filling my nostrils.
I did not know who this person was, but somehow I fit in their arms like I was made to be there.
Slowly I drew back and looked up at the strangers face.
Maybe it wasn't a stranger. And maybe this time the tears escaping weren't because I was sad.
"Michael!" I cried, jumping into his arms and wrapping my arms around his neck his hands on my face, kissing him full on the mouth. 
Sparks were flying and I felt like fireworks were going off in my stomach, as cheesy as that sounds. 
We both pulled back gasping for breath as his hands remained where they were.
"It's really you," he whispered. I nodded, the (happy) tears still streaming down my face.
We kissed again for what felt like eternity, before I grabbed his hand and dragged him to my house.
We sat on the couch and looked at each other.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He asked.
A grin spread on my face.
"You get the movies and I'll get the pizza," 
"Deal," he giggled, before we did our secret hand shake we used to do during skype calls (in which we would just be mindlessly hitting the screen. It felt real) then heading off in our dufferent directions. 
That night I forgot all about our problems in the world and only thought about the boy with the purple hair sitting next to me (and maybe Jamie Campell-Bower after watching Mortal Instruments, City of Bones)

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