Spain or Shine (10 page)

“It's just that I was so focused on my play assignment, I completely forgot about the Spanish homework.”

“Don't stress about it.”

“I'm just mad at myself,” Elena lamented. “I was ready to be a new person here. I thought coming to a new place would bring out the best in me-help me focus. Now I'm supposed to turn this play assignment in, and I'm not even excited anymore.

The two girls passed a group of Spanish boys, and one of them stopped and said,
“Hola.”

“Hey, we know you. How's it going?” Jenna replied.

Elena looked up and found herself staring up at Miguel's hazel eyes, which actually looked almost green in the bright sunlight. Suddenly her problems with Señor Gonzalez seemed totally unimportant. She had fantasized about seeing him again, but she hadn't imagined it being so soon. Now that he was actually standing in front of her, she found herself practically mute, once again.

“Are you students here?” Miguel asked. “I did not realize.”

“Yeah, we're in the International School program. I didn't know you were in high school. You look older,” Jenna said.

Miguel smiled broadly. “No, I am seventeen.”

“So, what do you do when you're not in school?” Jenna asked.

“I work at the Maria Cristina. It is a hotel; perhaps you've heard of it?” he said.

“Yeah, it's supposed to be pretty fancy, isn't it?”

Miguel nodded as one of his friends approached. Elena thought he looked familiar.

“This is my cousin, Borja.” When Miguel said the name Borja, the r rolled off his tongue.

“Nice to meet you, Bor-ha,” Elena said, her r falling flat instead of trilling off her tongue the way it had for Miguel. When Borja held his hand out to shake with Jenna, he dipped his head slightly, and Elena immediately realized why he looked familiar. It was the same hand-out pose and gentlemanly bow he had used when asking Jenna to dance the other night at the tapas bar. He was the curly-haired boy who'd had Jenna stomping to the flamenco music.

“Well, I guess we'll see you around,” Jenna said as they scooted off toward their next classes “I can't believe we go to the same school,” Jenna continued as soon as the boys had left. “We could see them every day.”

 

Elena slipped into the classroom just as Ms. B began collecting assignments. Elena took a seat, leaned back in her chair, and stared out the window. She thought about how cute Miguel had looked squinting in the bright sunlight. Elena was still wrapped up in thoughts of Miguel when Ms. B appeared next to her desk. Smiling at Ms. B, she handed over her assignment without hesitation. She'd been so busy dreaming about Miguel that she had completely forgotten to be nervous.

On Sunday afternoon Elena, Jenna, and Alex were enjoying what they had recently discovered was one of the purest pleasures in San Sebastián. When most of the town was enjoying siesta, they were slurping dribbles of melting ice cream as it rolled down their cones and onto their fingers.

They walked along the shaded walkway that hugged Río Urumea, the river that slithered through the core of the city, dividing the old section of town from the new.

“Here,” Jenna said, shoving a tilting mess of ice cream under Elena's nose as they crossed one of the bridges that led back toward the center of town. “Try the pistachio.”

They were on their way back from a small chunk of beach Alex had discovered called Playa de Zurriola. It was less well known than Playa de la Concha, but still beautiful. Zurriola, a field of white sand that lay at the foot of one of the green mountains, was considered to be a beach for locals and surfers. It was roomier than la Concha, and there was a nice view of the colorful houses that climbed up the side of the mountain. On their first trip to Zurriola earlier in the week, they discovered a friendly old man selling ice cream,
helado
in Spanish, out of a little cart. They'd sought him out again today strictly for the novelty of it.

On the other side of the bridge the three of them started up the tree-lined river walk, where they found an iron bench. They sat down to finish their messy cones. The city was hushed and sleepy, and the warm breeze was lulling Elena into a daze. She loved this time of day in Spain—when the air was the warmest and all the people strolled past each other, stopping to talk for a moment. She didn't miss the hectic afternoons back home, rushing to after-school activities or working frantically to finish a homework assignment. She didn't even think the Spanish had a word for hectic. If they did, she had yet to hear it.

“We get our first conflict assignments back tomorrow, Elena,” Alex said, slurping a rogue drip from his cone. “How do you think you did?”

“I feel okay about it, I guess. But I'm impressed you know when we get our assignments back. I didn't know you stayed awake long enough to hear that kind of thing,” Elena teased.

“Well, I can't believe you remembered to turn in your assignment at all. I heard about your little slipup in Gonzalez's class.”

“Hey,” Elena shoved his shoulder, though Alex barely swayed against her skinny arms. “I told you this class is different. I'm really motivated. I swear.”

“Relax, Holloway. I'm just teasing.” Alex smirked at her.

“So, Jenna, how's your architecture class going?” Elena couldn't help but notice that Alex softened his tone a little when he addressed Jenna.

“Pretty cool. We've been designing our dream house.”

“I bet yours is sweet.”

Jenna threw him a sly smile. “It's okay.”

Alex crunched the last of his ice cream cone and stood up. “Well, it's been fun, but I've gotta go. I've got a test in Basque culture tomorrow. Later.”

“Se ya,” the two girls called after him.

Once Alex was out of earshot, Jenna perked up. “Are you sure you're not into him?”

“Yes. Absolutely, one-hundred percent sure.” Elena licked her cone, turned it a little, then licked again. “He's all yours.”

Jenna ignored the last comment. “He's not your type or what?”

Elena shook her head.

“Well, who is your type then? I'm curious. We've met boys in school, at the tapas bars, all over. You must think someone is just the tiniest bit cute.”

Elena shrugged. She hadn't told Jenna about Miguel. She'd never been very open about her crushes, even though the whole world seemed to find out about them anyway.

“Well, there is one person I think is pretty cute,” Elena ventured, but then rushed to qualify her statement. “He would never even look in my direction, though, so it's not like I'm expecting anything to happen.”

Jenna sighed. “Give me a break, Elena. Who is it?”

“You know that Spanish guy we met at the tapas bar and then ran into on campus the other day....”

“Which one? Miguel?” Jenna shrieked. Elena nodded and tried to shush her friend, but Jenna barreled forward. “Oh, yeah, he's hot. And seems so sweet,” she added.

“Well, you never know,” Elena said, remembering how sincere Joe had seemed at first.

“You guys would be so cute together,” Jenna continued as she finished off her cone. “Oh my God, I have the best idea.” Jenna sprang up from the bench. “Follow me.”

Jenna led Elena up a path that wound past a damp manicured lawn and around a massive brown stone building with the words, HOTEL MARIA CRISTINA, scrolled in grand letters across the top.

“This is where Miguel works,” Elena whispered.

“I know. I want to get started on getting you two together.”

“Jenna, it's not me he's interested in,” Elena protested.

“You've talked to the guy, like, twice for a total of five minutes. How would you know who he likes?”

Because it's obvious he likes you,
Elena wanted to say. But she held back. She didn't want to lay it all out. Anyway, she was sure Jenna knew the effect she had on boys.

“Listen, if he's not here, we'll just check out the swanky hotel and leave,” Jenna said frankly. “No big deal.”

Elena was a little embarrassed to be hunting Miguel down at work, but also secretly excited. She could picture him looking gorgeous in his bellhop uniform, his tan skin set against the crisp white cotton. She would be poised, striding up to him with the grace of a dancer. “Hello,” He'd beam. “I didn't think I'd see you again so soon. What a wonderful surprise.”
Elena, you're hopeless,
she thought.

Elena followed Jenna through the canopied front entrance and into the gleaming lobby. They stood beneath a crystal chandelier, its light bouncing off the rosy marble floor. Jenna pulled Elena past the empty bar and idle grand piano toward the dining room. The windows stretched up tall and arcing to graze the ceiling. The molding at the top of the ceiling looked like cake frosting. When Elena glanced over her shoulder, she felt the eyes of the concierge burning into them. She suddenly felt out of place and antsy to leave.

Elena grabbed Jenna's hand and steered her back to the front of the lobby.

“He's obviously not here,” she whispered, turning her head to look at Jenna. “That guy behind the desk is giving me the creeps and—” Before she could finish her sentence she felt herself smack into someone. When she turned her head, she found herself staring directly into Miguel's eyes. They were inches from her own. For a split second she thought,
If this boy ever kissed me, this is what it would feel like the moment before our lips touched.
She stepped back, adjusting the neckline of her shirt, which had slid off her shoulder on one side.

“I am so sorry,” he said. “I hope I did not hurt either of you. I was not looking where I was going.” Each word was like a carefully wrapped package. Elena thought his English was better than hers. He was so polite, so considerate. She knew she should say something, but nothing came.

“Miguel,” Jenna's full voice ricocheted off the marble lobby. “It's so funny that we ran into you.”

“Yes, funny,” he said, glancing back at the creepy guy behind the desk.

“We were curious about the famous Maria Cristina, so we thought we'd take a look. We completely forgot that you work here.”

He smiled meekly and pulled at his collar.

“I will work here for only one more year. Next fall I plan to go to university in Madrid,” he added quickly. Then he puffed up a little. “What do you think of the Hotel Maria Cristina?”

“It's really pretty.” Jenna nodded.

“Everything in this hotel is gorgeous,” Elena said, and then thought,
Including you.

“I wonder what the rooms are like,” Jenna mused, leaning back to take in the ceiling. “I bet they're awesome.”

Miguel glanced furtively over his shoulder again at the eagle-eye concierge who was speaking in hushed tones with a customer. “Would you like to see one?” he whispered. Both girls nodded vigorously.

Miguel quickly shuttled them over toward the tucked-away service staircase. They marched up a narrow flight of concrete stairs. Miguel held his hand against the small of Jenna's back to steady her on one of the steps.

When Miguel opened the door to the second-floor landing, they stepped back into the centuries-old grace of the hotel. He nodded to a woman with white hair like spun sugar worn in a coif on her head. She was dressed in a maid's uniform. She whispered heavily to him in Spanish. When he glanced in the girls' direction and whispered something in return, the diminutive elderly maid giggled and then let him into the room she had just exited.

“This way,” he said, waving them into the room.
“Gracias,
Celia.” The older woman looked up at him with warm eyes and let out a giggle. She turned back down the hall, pushing her cart lined with towels, cleaning supplies, and little bottles of shampoo and lotion.

They walked into the room, and Jenna gasped on cue.

“This is amazing,” she said, walking over to the burnished armoire. A gold chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, dripping amber light over the silver-threaded bedcovers. Elena wondered if there was a chandelier in every room.

“I'm going to check out the bathroom,” Jenna said. “Don't worry, Miguel. I won't touch anything.” When Miguel turned away, Jenna winked at Elena, then disappeared into the bathroom. Elena looked at Miguel. She hoped he wouldn't be bored without Jenna in the room to entertain him.

Elena suddenly realized the awkwardness of her situation. She was standing alone in a hotel room with a cute boy she barely knew who made her want to melt.

“Would you like to be in the bed?” he asked.