Chapter 65: The Frat Party

After Celio finished packing his things, he turned to Vicente and gave him some warnings.

"Just practice basic things with her," Celio said. "Basic words, basic grammar, and basic pronunciation, got it?"

Vicente nodded. "Got it."

He narrowed his eye. "And don't try anything funny."

"I would never."

Celio turned to Roselle. "I need to go now. Let me know if this idiot does anything stupid."

She nodded. "Sure thing."

With that, the treasurer was out the door.

Vicente chuckled. "That guy is too serious, no?"

Roselle crossed her arms. "Well maybe you're just too lenient."

The prince sighed and laid down on his bed. "When the universe created the two of you, I think you were made together. You're both equally boring."

"I'M NOT BORING!"

"Prove it."

She groaned. "I don't have to prove anything to you. Are you going to help me study, or what?"

* * *

"Me llamo Roselle, y . . . I'm ventiuno [I am Roselle and I'm twenty-one]." Roselle looked at Vicente intently. "Okay, how was THAT?"

He sighed. "It's not getting any better."

She punched herself in the knee. "Dang it! Why can't I get right already?! I keep trying to get it through my head, but it never works!"

"I told you, you can't learn Spanish in a room. You need to go out and experience life. It would help you so much."

"Quit trying to try to use this as an excuse."

"I'm not." Vicente sat up. "When I was young, I was very bad at the english language. My tutors thought I would never learn. One day, when I was in England with my family, I got separated from them and walked through the streets of London by myself."

She raised a brow. "How'd you get lost?"

He smirked. "I've always been adventurous, and it led me to go down a path. Anyway, because of that, I spent three days roaming the streets, talking with the people, and truly immersing myself in the culture. In those three days, I learned more english than I did my entire time being tutored."

"Well, that's a cute story, but it's not like I can immerse myself in the culture. It's not like we can just hop on down to Mexico or anything."

"We could, but I know you don't have it in you to take such a heat of the moment risk."

"No I do not. I would rather be a little more practical."

"What's the fun in that?" Vicente's phone rang. He answered and spoke with the person on the other line in spanish.

He was so lively when he talked, and he was so full of energy and laughter that it was annoying. Roselle paced around the room waiting for twenty minutes for him to finally finish his call. Finally, he hung up.

"Are you going to help me at all?" Roselle asked. "Because if you aren't, I'm just going to go home and study by myself."

"Si, I am going to help you." He stood up, went to his closet, pulled out a sexy red dress, and threw it at her. "Put that on. We're going to a party."

"I'm curious. HOW is this going to help me?"

"By immersing you. Most of the people there will be speaking spanish."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I am NOT going to drop everything, put on this dress, and come with you to that party?"

* * *

So Roselle ended up dropping everything, putting on the dress, and going to the party. Vicente absolutely insisted on it, and she decided it was better than studying alone. Besides, if "immersion" didn't help her, she could totally throw it in the jerk-prince's face.

They walked to the front of the house where there were some guys standing guard. The guys all greeted Vicente with open arms like he was royalty or something. Ugh. Oh, wait . . .

"¿Es tu nueva novia?" one of the guys asked Vicente, pointing at Roselle.

Roselle picked up the word 'novia' which meant 'girlfriend' and was immediately appalled. "No way!" she protested. "Not in a million years."

"Hey," Vicente said. "You're supposed to be immersing yourself, remember? You need to say that in spanish."

"Uh . . ." The guys were staring at her, and she desperately tried to make the sentences in her mind, but she couldn't. Even if she knew all the words in a sentence, compiling them together correctly was like mission impossible. Instead, she picked one word to demonstrate all her feelings. "NUNCAAAAAAAAA [NEVERRRRRRR]!"

The guys all burst out in laughter. When they spoke, it was at crazy lightning speed. She couldn't keep up with what they were saying at all. She thought they mentioned she was cute, but that was about it.

"Let's go inside," Vicente finally said.

* * *

The party was pretty crazy, and indeed, most of the people were speaking spanish. Even the music was in spanish. What annoyed Roselle most is the way people looked at them when they walked around. Okay, so Vicente was a prince and she was hanging out with him. So what?

She did have to admit though, that when people spoke to Vicente, it kind of forced her to dig deep into her vocabulary and try to make out what they were saying. The way they spoke also gave her some clarification on grammar, even if it was just a tiny bit.

A certain song came on, and everyone went wild as soon as it played. People who weren't already dancing excused themselves to the living room and danced their hearts out.

"Bailar conmigo," Vicente said, giving Roselle that infamous grin. "Dance with me."

She staggered back at his request. "What does that have to do with me learning spanish?"

"Everything." He offered his hand out toward her and pointed at the dance floor with his head.

She shook her head. "I couldn't. I don't really know how to dance."

"Then that's yet another thing I can teach you." Without warning, Vicente took Roselle's hands and dragged her to the dance floor.

"Wait, no! I didn't agree to this! Everyone's going to be looking at us!"

"It's alright. You're going to be amazing."

People that were crowding the floor made way when Vicente and Roselle walked that way. They all stopped to stare at them. He abruptly brought her in close, stepping in a rhythmic pattern to the sound of the music.

She felt conscious and out of control. As much as Roselle tried to step along, she knew something was off. "I can't do this," she whispered.

"You're too stiff. For this to work, you need to trust me."

"I don't know how to do that."

"Just try."

Roselle took a huge gulp and closed her eyes, allowing Vicente to guide her along with the music. She moved with his steps and let him spin her around. -It was such a vulnerable feeling to be guided blindly like this, yet somehow, it was freeing. She took the melody and let it flow through Vicente, and back on to her. Finally, when she was ready, she opened her eyes.

She panicked for a moment when she realized just how close Vicente's face was with hers. She was even more flustered when she took note of how focused his eyes were on her. "H--hey," she said. "Why do you have to look at me like that, huh?"

"Por que eres muy guapa [Because you're so beautiful]," he said, smirking.

The people clapped along with the music as they continued to exude electricity on the dancefloor. Roselle actually got into it, feeling more confident than she had been before. The song finally came to a close, and the dance ended with Vicente dipping her. The room cheered. They both panted, and he released her from his arms.

Roselle took a moment to soak in the applause for a moment and did a little curtsey. "Gracias," she said.

"See? Right there. Your accent right there wasn't that bad," Vicente said.

"Really?"

"Yes. It's because you weren't saying it for a class or a lesson. You were FEELING the word, Roselle. You were feeling the culture inspiring your tongue."

* * *

Vicente and Roselle sat in the backyard together on lawn chairs practicing more. Okay, maybe his strategies aren't as bad as she thought they were. In fact, she was improving a lot.

"So tell me about yourself, Roselle," he said.

"Well, I--"

"In spanish." He smirked.

"Right . . ." She racked her brain, but she couldn't think of anything to say. "This is kind of pressuring, you know? I'm not good with making sentences on the spot."

Vicente chuckled. "Not to worry, I have the solution right here." He took out tequila, party cups, lime, and salt. "Let's drink." He poured the cups.

"What? How is this supposed to help me?"

"It'll help you loosen up. You know it's scientifically proven that drinking helps you speak foreign languages better."

She raised a brow. "Yeah . . . no. I don't know if I can trust your science."

"Well, have I failed you yet?" He handed her a cup with lime and salt on the side.

"I guess not. Okay, screw it." She took the shot.

CREATORS' THOUGHTS
maxyperson

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