The Last Ride

Chapter 7: Burning Passion

Jordan's POV

"Bye. Jordan! Have fun Aunt Kezia waved me good bye. Wait! Did you bring you medicines?"

"For the 10th time Aunt Kezia Yes." Since I told my Aunt the panic attack incident at the coffee shop, she made sure I always bring a pill in case of emergency.

"Just making sure! Take them if you have a panic attack again."

I walked over to the parking lot of the school, where Mr. Hernandez is gathering all his students.

"Gather around! Now, the way we're going to ensure that no one wanders off on their own is an old standby: The Buddy System."

Then all around me, people are grabbing hands with people whom perfer to be buddies with. But I know what exactly is coming and I felt a cold knot of dread building in my stomach.

"I've assigned partners for the duration of the trip. Not only will you be responsible for you partners, but they will be your partner for all the activities and assignments. Their success is your success. As I state your name enter the buss with your partners."

Mr. Hernandez begins running through the list of partners, and I strain to hear my name.

"Jordan Valleriano, you'll be with Paul Abuan"

NO. No. no no. I cannot be with Paul.

"What are you waiting for partner? Let's go inside!" he enthusiastically said, I groaned in defeat and entered the bus.

The bus speeds down to H70, passing nearby towns. I leaned my head on the window jamming my ear buds into my ears. Music pours out, sounding the most beautiful noise I'd ever heard. I turned it up, shutting the world out around me, but Paul pulled one of my ear buds, and I glared at him.

"So you just going to ignore me?" he asked

"Isn't it obvious?"

"You looked depressed."

"Thanks" I replied dryly, my voice lapsing into a weird Texan accent and I frowned at myself. "Sorry" I said quickly, clearing my throat so my voice went back to normal.

"Do you like accents?" I think in some ways Paul is very perceptive person; he would simply observe and he easily notice little things, imperceptible things that shouldn't matter but do.

"I guess so," I replied, scrunching up my forehead as I struggled to remember my best accents. He looked around making sure no one was listening. He coughed awkwardly and leaned closed to me, "Hello, Ma'am would you like some tea?" Paul imitating a lame British accent. My face dropped.

"You-a-are s-o bad!" I gasped between splutters of laughter.

"I'd like to see you try" he retorted, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Watch and learn." I cleared my throat.

"Hey, I'm Paul and my hobby is to just walk around and annoy the hell out of anyone." Even I admitted I sounded nothing like him.

His soft lips stretched in to a smile, he actually smiled not smirked but smiled, flashing his perfectly aligned white teeth. There was something about the way he smile, the way his lips lifted upwards made his one dimple to crinkle, His brown eyes sparkled radiating a warmth which made butterflies to escape from the pit of my stomach.

"That is the epitome of bad accent."

"I know," I mused, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. "Do you want to hear more accents? I can do a mean German accent."

He groaned. "Now, I'm regretting this."

"Well, you started it." He let out a dramatic sigh and gestured for me to begin. I took a huge breath and launched into my accents. I did my Irish, Spanish, and French accents. They were flawless. But he kept laughing at my attempts making me break character to shove him in the ribs and scowl at him.