A new book for all your 80s/90s imagines and preferences including your favorite actors, actresses, characters, and celebrity personnel.
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"Just face it," Jordan flipped through the pages of his textbook. "-it's hopeless. I'm never gonna visit France, so why do I need French?"
"...Because you need at least two language credits to graduate? You could at least attempt to memorize basic pronouns and conjugations." Trying to reason with the boy, making him study was near impossible. Not because of the fact he couldn't retain information, but he would always give up. The two of you tried all the studying methods you could think of: self-testing, practice exercises, flashcards, but Jordan would just sit back and stare off once he couldn't come up with an answer.
Madame Bruneau had suggested you volunteer after school for the student tutoring program. At first, it seemed like a great idea: You would get the chance to improve your skills while helping a fellow classmate... Until your usual partner had transferred out of the class, leaving you with Catalano. He sat behind you in 6th period French, but you never paid mind, as he was always tardy or skipped the last hour of the day completely. When Bruneau finally got to him saying he needed at least a C before the end of the quarter, you could always sense him trying to peak over your shoulder during a quiz.
This Friday afternoon dragged along for practically an eternity, you felt. The two of you had been studying all afterschool, and eventually had to take it to the library once they were closing the school for the night. You did not want to have this turn into an all-nighter with him.
It's not like Jordan wasn't a good-looking guy, often times you would catch yourself trying to catch a glimpse of his clear blue eyes, or notice that he would sometimes lick his lips before speaking. -But you promised to yourself you two would be nothing more than study partners. With him being on and off with that sophomore, Angela Chase, you did not want to catch yourself mixed up in that world of drama.
Pushing his book away and tapping on the table with the eraser of his pencil, the noise grew into annoyance in the silence
"Can you not?" You spoke in a regular volume, your tone coming out harsh. A passing librarian hushed you, causing Jordan to snicker. You glared at him before finishing what you were writing.
"Sorry." He smirked, before you gathered up all your things, "Hey, where are you going?" His eyes widened before you handed him a piece of paper.
"I can't do this anymore, you act like you don't care. I'm leaving." You hung the strap of your messenger bag over your shoulder, "I wrote down pages that should help you. Good luck on Monday." You huffed before Jordan called out your name to wait, it being the wrong name though.
"[Y/N]" You stopped, crossing your arms at him. "We've been doing this for weeks, and you still haven't remembered my name?" This adding to reason for you storming out, you were caught at the steps of the building, Jordan running after you to your surprise. This was one of the last things you kind of expected him to do
"[Y/N], look, I'm sorry. Again." You just kept walking down the sidewalk, ignoring him. It was already night, the streetlamps guiding you home.
"Let me drive you home," He suggested, jumping in front, to have you roll your eyes before pushing him aside.
