Page 97 of Run Home
ME
No need to worry. But hurry up and change so you can get out here.
Based on how quickly Adrian joins us, he either took to heart my admonition to hurry or didn’t take to heart my reassurance to not worry. He gives his dad a bear hug as Juan congratulates him on the good game. My hug from Adrian is short, but that’s only because he’s rushing us out the door.
When we near the exit to the parking lot, Adrian takes my hand to slow me down. He tells Griffin, “Hey, go ahead out with my dad, and I’ll be right there. I’m just gonna make out with your sister for a minute.”
“Adrian!” I yell, as he laughs and grins, dodging an attempted shove from Griffin.
Griffin looks to me warily and says, “I’m starting to question your choices, sis.”
I successfully land a smack to Adrian’s arm. “I’m also questioning my choices, menso.” Juan bursts out laughing at the nickname but follows Griffin out the doors.
I start talking at the same time Adrian leans in to kiss me, so he retracts and asks, “Oh, you were serious about having a question?”
A teasing grin breaks out across his face, and I smack him once more for good measure. He rests his hands on my hips as I stand in front of him, and I rest mine on his arms, rubbing my thumbs across his biceps.
“Yes. I do,” I say. “I was talking to your dad—well, I was doing my best. I realized that I need to learn some Spanish. Danae mentioned the public library gives free access to language courses, so I’m going to look one up.”
Adrian’s face scrunches with disapproval. “Ay, no! The library’s gonna teach you weird proper Spanish. You need to learn Venezuelan Spanish, catira. I’ll teach you!”
“Really?” I ask.
“Claro, vale!” Adrian says, then instantly translates, “Of course!”
Eyeing him with suspicion, I clarify, “You promise you’ll teach me useful conversation and not trick me into saying something I shouldn’t?”
His face is serious when he says, “I promise. Because I’d love for you to be able to talk more with my dad.”
“Okay,” I agree. “Let’s do it!”
“Then say, ‘chévere, si va.’ No school in los Estados Unidos is gonna teach you that. This is why you need me,” he replies with a smile, gesturing to himself. I repeat the phrase, and his smile grows wider. Leaning in, he asks, “Do I get to kiss you now?”
“No! That wasn’t my question!” I exclaim.
“Dale chola—hurry up and ask me so then I can kiss you,” Adrian teases. He cheats and sneaks in a quick peck to my lips before I can speak.
“When I was talking to your dad, he pronounced your name differently. Not A-dree-in with the emphasis on the first syllable. It sounded more like Ah-dree-ahn with the emphasis on the last syllable,” I state.
Adrian shrugs. “Yeah? So?”
“So? Is that how your name is supposed to be pronounced?” I ask.
“Well, yeah, that’s the Spanish pronunciation,” he says. “But it wasn’t worth the effort to constantly correct people when I moved here. There’s no way you can call up every sports commentator or stadium announcer and ask them to pronounce your name differently.”
“But you could tell your girlfriend the right way to say your name!” I exclaim indignantly.
He laughs. “I don’t care how you say my name.” He leans in closer and murmurs, “As long as you keep saying it.”
“Menso. Tell me straight.” I give him a hard stare as I mimic back his words from the night he asked about calling me Samantha. “Do you like being called Adrián?”
“Well, when you say it that way.” He leans in for a kiss but pulls back abruptly and adds, “Actually, we’re gonna need to work on your pronunciation of R sounds in Spanish.”
I hit him in the chest, and he laughs. “Can you please be serious?” I insist, although I can’t erase my own smile.
He gives me a tender look and says, “I do like you saying my name Adrián. But I don’t care if you say Adrian. I’ll answer to anything for you, cielo.”
Shaking my head, I say, “No. You’re calling me Samantha. I’m calling you Adrián. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life mispronouncing the name your parents gave you.”
