Part Nine - Part One

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Part Nine - Part One

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The drive feels endless, each mile stretching into eternity. My legs are numb, my brain teetering on the edge of shutdown, and Scott's warmth pressed against me only adds to the discomfort of my overheated skin. His soft breaths caress the side of my neck as his head rests on my shoulder. Opening my eyes slowly, I see we're still on the road.

When the driver notices I'm awake, he hands me two granola bars and two bottles of water. His brown eyes catch my attention. "Pensé que podrías tener hambre," he says.

I smile at him, genuinely grateful. "Muchas gracias."

He smiles back, and I open the water, taking a huge gulp that soothes my parched throat. My neck is stiff and sore from sleeping at a weird angle, and I massage my left shoulder, unable to do the right since Scott is using it as a pillow. The road ahead looks just as endless as before, but a billboard catches my eye, prompting me to wake Scott.

At first, he resists, but I eventually rouse him. "What?" he asks, his voice hoarse, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning. "What time is it?"

I shrug. "You alright, sleepyhead?" I chuckle softly.

He grins, rubbing his face. "Yeah. Where are we?" He glances around, trying to make sense of our location.

Scott is one of those annoyingly attractive people who look perfect even after sleeping. I force myself not to stare.

Another billboard appears. Scott looks at the driver. "Gracias," he says, "but I think we'll get off here."

I'm taken aback. "What? We can't get off here. Are you crazy? This is like—"

"What do you mean, what?" he asks, rolling his eyes. "I just saw a billboard that said San Diego." He looks irresistibly annoyed, his lips frustratingly perfect.

I start to protest, but he cuts me off. "So tell the driver to drop us at the nearest stop."

"There are no stops," I say, exasperated. "Scott, I really think we should—"

"Just tell him already!" he snaps.

Closing my eyes, I try to dredge up any useful Spanish from ninth grade. Nothing comes to mind except curse words and phrases about sex.

"I can't remember anything," I admit, opening my eyes to see Scott's light brown eyes scrutinizing me. "Only curse words and sex. I can't form a coherent sentence."

Scott bursts out laughing. "Oh my God! What did you even learn in the ninth grade?"

"Important things," I reply, shrugging. "I can't really remember. It's all a blur."

"Like sex?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "That's important to you?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you," I tell him, turning to the driver. "Uh... Lo siento, pero el lunes apesta y todo lo que puedo pensar es joder."

The driver looks as surprised as I feel, considering I have no idea what I just said. "¿De Verdad? Ustedes están follando?"

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