Zac and Mia - First Season

I've always loved numbers.

Numbers are cut-and-dry,

black-and-white,

no gray area,

and they never lie.

My life plans were a carefully calculated equation.

I'd ride my 4.0 into a choice college,

then launch a startup by age 25

that would catapult me into Zuckerberg status.

I even had the next two years of high school mapped out,

during which time I would search for the perfect girl.

No clue who that was supposed to be,

but I was set on finding the one

who'd become integral to my equation.

So yeah, my life was figured out.

What I didn't consider,

what I couldn't have planned for

is what we mathematicians refer to

as an unknown variable, or X.

My X is calculated by taking

my invincible young age of 17...

and subtracting one immune system.

Then add thousands of abnormal white blood cells,

multiply by 12 rounds of chemotherapy

plus one bone marrow transplant,

divide it by 50 days of a 100-day quarantine,

and the sum of all that is my X...

Cancer.

Before I had the chance to find the perfect girl

and start my perfect life,

I was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma,

so screw you, unknown variable.

And prepare to die, baby bro.

- You know, society frowns on death threats

made in a hospital's oncology ward.

How the hell are you not playing

but you're beating me? - I'm not taking it easy on you.

just 'cause you have cancer, by the way,

so don't think that that's happening.

- Dude, shut up. -

- Boom, bitch. - Oh, dude.

You're a boner. You can't do that.

- What? - You're a boner.

At least I'm not alone.

That's the one thing that could

make this nightmare worse.

- JFK was a nightmare, but this hotel, Chloe,

is the sickest in SoHo.

Reservation for Mia Phillips.

I think I just saw Harry Styles in the hallway.

Hey, let me hit you back later.

I'm a nurse, not a bellboy.

- Oh, am--am I supposed to tip you or something?

- First one's free.

My name's Vinny.

So this is all you brought?

- Yeah, no, I don't plan on staying here long, so...

Are your parents downstairs?

No.

- So...you ready for the grand tour?

- Oh, my God, dude, you're such a camper.

That was all luck, plus I let you, charity case.

- Cool. - Yeah.

Where's Bec, man? I got to go.

- Hello, I'm here, scrubbing in for Zac duty.

- Oh, you know, in some cultures,

a teenager can spend a few moments alone.

Did you know that? - Oh, please.

You'd be bored out of your mind without us here.

Plus Mom and Dad don't feel so guilty

for spending all their time working at the vineyard.

- And it's the perfect opportunity

to steal painkillers from old people.

Are you stoned?

- You know what'd be good for you?

Getting laid. I'm serious.

This chick I'm seeing she might have a friend.

I read somewhere that cancer's a major turn-on.

Like you read.

Yeah, pity sex on a gurney?

Hard pass, but thanks.

- Okay, you're welcome. So long.

- Why couldn't I have had at least one sister?

- Oh, you want mine? She's the worst.

That almost hit my face.

Ow.

- You can run the world with this thing, hmm?

Adjust the lights, the blinds, and even the TV.

Oh, and this patient left this Bluetooth speaker behind,

so I called dibs for you.

Did this person, like, die?

- We'll get this place feeling homey as hell in no time.

Here you go.

- No, look, I'm not here to get comfortable.

I'm just here to get treatment for my lame leg drama,

and then I'll ghost in time for prom.

- Mm, we're on a schedule. Got it.

Wait, what are those?

Bedpans.

- Are there no bathrooms in here?

Hey, relax, huh?

You have a private en suite right behind this door.

It's just that a few weeks into your treatment,

a trip to the bathroom can seem...

A bit daunting.

Get some rest.

I'll be back to check on you later.

You got a new neighbor.

She's already driving Vinny nuts.

- The damage? - Osteosarcoma of the leg.

- Add another geriatric to the pile...

unless she looks like Betty White.

Betty White under the right light's kind of hot.

- Oh, she's actually young, like, our age.

Slow your roll, Romeo. She is so not your type.

I feel like having been in utero together,

I'd know. - God, shut up.

Okay, what's her deal?

We hardly sat down

and got Starbucks together,

but she seems like a Grade A bitch.

- Weird, people say the exact same thing about you.

[loud music blaring from other room]

See?

Someone show that ingrate to respect other people!

- Relax. I can tune you out too.

I'm bald like Buddha.

- Well, let's see how Zen you are

when this audible onslaught keeps you up all night.

[dubstep blaring from other room]

Dear God or whatever entity exists,

please shut her up.

- Dude, man up and walk your ass ten steps

and ask me politely

instead of banging on my wall like a Neanderthal!

- You know, we're not all here for a stupid bum leg.

For some of us this is life and death.

I would love to come over and hash things out with you,

but I'm recovering from a bone marrow transplant,

which means I'm immunocompromised,

stuck in protective isolation,

which is all crazy doctor-speak

for "I'm super easy to kill right now,"

so no, I'm not gonna risk my life to come over there

and give you the satisfaction of a face-to-face!

Look, I didn't mean to--

You're not an old dude.

Um, sorry to disappoint.

- If I keep my music down to a reasonable decibel level,

are we good?

Hello?

Hello?

Are we good or not?

- Yeah. Um, yeah, we're good.

Good night.

And just like that...

I can meet a girl worth dreaming about.

What I didn't consider,

what I couldn't have planned for,

is another unknown variable.

We all know those people,

the magnetic kind,

people that when they smile at a mere mortal

like you or me, you're blessed?

I don't know, whatever people say.

- Hey. - Hey.

- Cute. - Selfie, kay?

One, two.

People so magnetic,

others gravitate toward them, orbit around them,

inevitably making this human magnet