Preference # 5:Teaching Moments
“Hola, mi amor,” Gabe greeted me with a kiss as I walked through the front door of his house. “Estas lista para tu leccion sobre la idioma espanol?”
“Um,” I said, unsure of what he had just asked me. “What?”
“I asked if you were ready for your Spanish lesson,” he laughed. “We’ll work on it.”
“Thanks for helping me. If I don’t pass this midterm, I’ll have to take the class over the summer,” I set my book down on his couch.
“I’m happy to help,” Gabe sat down and leafed through the book’s pages. “Que aprendiste hoy?”
“Aprendi… como… decir… que… me gusta bailar?” I answered quizzically, struggling through the accent and conjugations.
“Muy bien,” Gabe held back a laugh. “Me gusta bailar tambien.”
“I’m a lost cause, aren’t I?” I winced. “I can’t speak Spanish to save my life.”
“You’ll pick it up quickly,” he gave me a reassuring hug. “Te voy a ayudar. Can you tell me what I just said?”
“You’re going to help me?” I guessed.
“See? I told you,” he nodded. “It’s not a difficult language.”
“Easy for you to say! You’re fluent,” I said. “This is actually hard for some people.”
“Calmate, mi amor. Se que no es tan facil para ti,” Gabe replied with a small chuckle. “We’re gonna start with simple phrases. Can you tell me what ‘amo a mi novio’ means?”
“’I love my boyfriend’?” I translated.
“I love you, too,” he grinned and leaned in for a kiss.
“Smooth,” I muttered as he kissed me. “No wonder Spanish is called the language of love.”
“You know it,” he pressed his lips to mine once more before sitting back. “Traduce, por favor: quiero quedar con mi novio por el resto de mi vida.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be on the test,” I smiled. “But ‘I want to stay with my boyfriend for the rest of my life.’”
“Perfecto,” Gabe said smugly.”Ahora dame un beso mas.”
“You just got one,” I shook my head. “The whole point of this was so I could learn Spanish, not so you could hit on me in a different language.”
“Pero te quiero,” he pulled me closer.
“Fine,” I leaned in and kissed him. “If we keep this up, I’m going to associate Spanish with kissing and get all hot and bothered when I take the test.”
“I’d pay to see that,” Gabe chuckled, but stopped when I shot him a look. “Or not. Look, the best way to study a language is to be totally immersed in it. You can stay here with me for the weekend and I’ll only speak Spanish to you. We can listen to Latin music and watch some of my mom’s crazy telenovelas.”
“Okay, I’ll try it,” I agreed. “But we have to start with the immersion now and I expect to be relatively decent by Monday.”
“No hay problema,” he nodded and picked up a worksheet. “Ojala que te funciona.”
“You need to dust off your guitar,” I swiped my finger over the instrument’s dusty strings. “I’m pretty sure you need it for your shows.”
“That’s my home guitar,” Dalton picked it up. “I have one at the studio for shows.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to play, but I don’t think it was in the cards for me,” I sighed. “By the time I could find lessons, I was too busy.”
“You can learn right now,” he put the guitar in my lap. “I’m good at teaching.”
“Really? But you had such a nice date planned out for tonight,” I said. It was our five month anniversary and Dalton had put a great night together. We were supposed to get dinner at a fancy restaurant and go to movie, but he didn’t seem in a rush to go.
“We can order in and watch something on Netflix,” he shrugged. “I’m not gonna let another day go by in which you don’t know how to play the guitar.”
I considered what he was saying. Honestly, staying in sounded so much better than eating overpriced Japanese-Chilean fusion food. “Sounds good to me.”
“That’s what I thought,” Dalton positioned my fingers over the strings. “This is a C Major chord. Now strum the guitar.”
I let my right hand glide over the strings, producing a soft, musical sound. The sound left me ecstatic. All my life, I had wanted to learn how to play and now my boyfriend was teaching me how. People tended to judge Dalton by his guyliner or his rocker hairstyle, but he wasn’t the icy person they expected him to be. To me, he was just a funny dork with a big heart.
Within an hour, I could struggle through the first few lines of his song, “Stop.” I obviously wasn’t any good, but Dalton was super proud that I could get through more than a few bars. “I think you’re a natural.”
“I wouldn’t say that, but I’m glad I finally know how to play something,” I smiled, then looked down at my sore fingertips. “The only thing I don’t like is the welts on my fingers. I don’t have calluses yet.”
“Yeah, but that’ll stop hurting in a few weeks,” Dalton stood up. “You hungry yet?”
“A little,” I nodded. “What are we ordering?”
“I was thinking we could go to Chipotle,” he said with a sheepish look on his face.
“And, let me guess, you want to watch Doctor Who when we get back?” I deduced.
“That’s why I love you: you know me so well,” he pulled me into a hug. “Happy five months. It’s been one for the books.”
I watched as David took so many ingredients out of the pantry that one whole block of the counter was covered with boxes. It was my first time sleeping over at his house and he had gotten the idea to teach me how to cook while I was there. That usually wouldn’t be so bad, but the last time I had tried to cook, we both got sick.
“This time won’t be as bad,” David pulled a saucepan out of the cabinet. “I’ve already tried this recipe.”
“Okay, but don’t complain to me if you wake up with a stomachache tonight,” I read the label of one of the boxes. “Angel hair pasta?”
“We’re making a real Italian dinner,” he said and started dicing tomatoes on a cutting board. “Pasta, salad, garlic bread, the works.”
“That sounds good,” I smiled, rinsing the lettuce for the salad. “It’ll be date night without the fuss of leaving the house.”
“I just hope it ends like the date we had a few nights ago,” David winked slyly. “Do I need to mention details?”
Immediately, my cheeks flushed red. “No, I got your point.”
David laughed, shaking his head as he put the skillet on the stove. “Come here so I can show you which seasonings we’re going to use for the sauce.”
I stood next to him and watched him grab a few boxes. “How many seasonings are we going to use?”
“A few,” he admitted. “We’re gonna use oregano, parsley, salt, and pepper, then we have to simmer everything for half an hour.”
“Half an hour?” I repeated incredulously. “This food better be damn good if it takes that long.”
“It will be, don’t worry,” David’s arms wrapped around me. “I’m a good cook; I know what I’m talking about.”
“You may be good at cooking, but I think you’re a better boyfriend,” I said. “I don’t know anyone else who would willingly eat my food.”
“Is that your way of saying you love me?” he grinned.
“Maybe,” I giggled as he leaned in to kiss me.
“You know you can’t live without me,” David replied, backing me up against the counter-top.
“No, I really can’t,” I quickly pecked his lips and turned to the skillet. “How much pepper?”
“Enough to make things hot,” he whispered in my ear, his hands on my hips. In the end, the cooking lesson and dinner were postponed in favor of some, ahem, other date activities, if you catch my drift.
There was truly nothing like a beautiful day in Los Angeles. The weather was in the eighties and Cole had an impromptu soccer game, so I decided to spend the afternoon at the park, too. He got to goof off and play his favorite sport and I got to focus on reading a new book from the library. Besides, we both needed the fresh air (or as fresh air could be in LA).
Everyone left almost immediately after the game, so Cole sat next to me while I finished another chapter. I knew he was quickly going to get bored out of his mind just sitting there. After all, he was one of the most energetic people I knew; he didn’t like doing nothing.
“Congratulations on your win,” I said as I put my book down. “I’m glad I got to see you make the winning goal.”
“It was nothing,” he shrugged, but I could see that he wanted me to say more. There was a little glint in his eyes that only appeared when he wanted a compliment without having to ask for it.
“And I’m soooo excited that the star of the game is my boyfriend,” I added sweetly. “I think soccer is the hottest sport ever.”
“Really?” Cole picked at a frayed edge of the blanket we were on. He could barely stop smiling even though he tried to hide it.
“You should teach me a few tricks,” I stood up, taking the soccer ball with me. “I’d like to see what’s so hot about it.”
“First, you have to put the ball down,” he got up and followed me to the middle of the field. “You can’t grab it with your hands.”
“The goalkeeper can,” I said matter-of-factly, but dropped it anyway. “What next?”
“Try to keep the ball away from me and get it into the goal,” Cole instructed, then zeroed in on me with laser focus.
Immediately, I took off sprinting towards my goal. He was right behind me the whole time, trying to look like he was going for the ball when he was really just letting me win. I got to the goal and kicked the ball, which neatly landed in the net.
“See? It’s not that hard,” Cole jogged towards me.
“It was easy because you let me win,” I replied. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re acting.”
“But you’re still glad you made it,” he said haltingly, like he was coming up with words as they were leaving his mouth. “I knew you would be upset if you didn’t get to make a goal.”
“I wanted to learn, not just make a goal,” I rolled my eyes and kissed his slightly stubbly cheek. “But thank you for at least trying to act like I was winning.”
“I didn’t have to try hard,” he shrugged. “You were determined.”
“Cole, we both know determination can only get you so far,” I said. “You totally let me win.”
“If that’s the way you feel, let’s go again,” he dropped the ball between us. “And I won’t go easy on you this time.”
“Fine. We’ll see what happens,” I smiled sweetly, inching the ball closer to me and away from him while he was distracted.
“Wait!” Cole pulled me back into his arms and kissed me. “If I win, you’re not gonna wanna kiss me for a while, so I gotta get some while I can.”
“Funny how you’re so sure you’re going to win,” I giggled. “Who knows? I could have a miraculous stroke of beginner’s luck.”
“If you say so, let’s see what you got,” he stepped back. “I’m winning either way.”
“Please don’t play ‘Chopsticks,’” Will said. “Everyone thinks that if they can play something, even an awful connection of notes, they’re Beethoven.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t know ‘Chopsticks,’” I smiled at how protective he was over his piano. “Can you teach me something? I promise I won’t act like I’m Beethoven.”
“Okay,” he shrugged and sat next to me on the bench. “How about Almost is Never Enough? It’s a duet.”
“Oh, I love that song!” I said excitedly. “But beware: I have a terrible singing voice and clumsy hands. This song might not turn out very good.”
“Piano isn’t that hard to learn once you get the hang of it,” Will lifted the cover. “I’m gonna play the treble clef and you’re gonna play the bass clef, so this is my side of the piano.”
“Is the bass part easier?” I asked.
“Yeah, a lot easier, but your part is the backbone of the song, so you have to make sure you’re on the correct beats,” he positioned my hand over the keys. “When I tell you, you’re gonna play these notes and hold them for three counts.”
Even with Will trying his best to teach me, I got absolutely nowhere in two hours. Either I played the wrong notes or didn’t get the timing right, so we didn’t get past the first verse before ending the lesson. And we were both hungry, but that was a different matter entirely.
“I’m sorry for getting so annoyed,” I apologized as we walked to the kitchen. “And yelling at the piano… and yelling at you… and calling instruments stupid.”
Will let a laugh slip, but recovered. “You tried, and the lesson wasn’t that bad.”
“I yelled at your piano. I think that qualifies as bad,” I took the bag of chips he handed to me.
“Maybe you’d be better off learning a different instrument,” he leaned back, making a show of studying me. “You could be a flute player.”
“Will!” I laughed. “We both know I’m not cut out for anything with music but listening to it.”
“Speaking of listening, can you listen to some of my song ideas and tell me which ones you like? I’m having trouble narrowing down some stuff,” he took a package of Oreos out of the cabinet.
“Of course,” I agreed giddily. One of the best parts about being Will’s girlfriend was getting to listen to his new songs before they were finished. His creative process was so interesting and I couldn’t help but wonder where he got his inspiration from.
“Great, come on over,” he nodded his head in the direction of the piano. “I had a lot of ideas last night and it’ll take a while to sort them out.”
I sat next to him on the bench as he played a lyrical melody that got louder and much more powerful as it went on. When he started singing, I thought my heart was going to stop. The song he was playing sounded like an Ed Sheeran song, wholesome and authentic. I couldn’t help but smile through the whole thing.
“I love it!” I said excitedly as soon as he stopped playing. “When did you come up with this?!”
“A few nights ago,” Will replied nonchalantly, but with a note of pride in his voice. He was clearly pleased with his work, which was definitely understandable.
“It’s perfect, Will,” I smiled. “You’ve outdone yourself with this one.”
“I’ve got a good muse,” he kissed my temple. “Even if she can’t play the piano at all.”
“That was a cheap shot,” I elbowed him. “I’m sorry if I’m not as musically inclined as someone who’s been playing since he was three.”
Will shrugged, laughing. “At least you’re Will-inclined.”
All I wanna do is get you all alone, can I hold you close? Tell me, girl, ‘cause all I want is you. You and no one else, keep you to myself. No time to take is slow, girl, let me get to know you.
“How long have you been here?” I asked when I walked into the studio. “It’s already ten.”
“I’m just trying to finish the choreography for Get to Know You so I can take a few days off,” Dana sauntered up to me for a kiss. “Is it really that late?”
“Yup. Thanks for calling,” I said sarcastically. “I wasn’t worried at all when my boyfriend didn’t show up for dinner.”
“We had dinner plans for tonight,” he sighed, smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I forgot.”
“You did,” I nodded. “But I brought you In-N-Out because I know you get in the zone when it comes to choreography.”
“Thanks, babe,” Dana pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry about missing dinner.”
“It’s okay, you need to work on this,” I replied. “We can always reschedule dinner.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” he put the In-N-Out bag down and led me to the middle of the studio. “You know how you’ve been wanting to take a dance class? Well, I’m gonna be your teacher tonight.”
“No, you said you wanted to finish some choreography,” I stopped him. “We can do this another time.”
“I left you waiting for me at home; this is the least I could do,” he took my hand and spun me so I was facing a wall full of mirrors. “Don’t worry, I’m good at teaching.”
“Like the time you tried to teach me how to play basketball? Or the time we made a mess of a song in the studio?” I asked.
“Just trust me,” Dana kissed my cheek and took a step back, eyeing my stance. “I’m gonna teach you some of the choreography to Want You to Want Me.”
“Aw, I love that song,” I said as he found the song on his phone. “It’s adorable.”
“It’s also great for impromptu dance lessons,” he started the song at the chorus.
For the rest of the night, I got to learn how to dance and Dana got to laugh at how silly I looked whenever I tried to copy his moves. When he ate the burger I brought him, my clumsy errors became his dinner entertainment. Not that it wasn’t fun, though. I loved dancing, especially since Dana was teaching me.
“What are you doing?” I giggled as his hands settled on my hips.
“You need to loosen up and I thought this would help, but you’re ticklish,” Dana said, realization dawning in his eyes. “You’re ticklish…”
“No, Dana, do not tickle me,” I stepped away. “You know what happens when I get tickled.”
“It’s worth it,” he grinned and lunged after me.
I shrieked and ran, but he caught me in about two seconds and proceeded to tickle me until I couldn’t breathe. “Stop!” I batted his hands away, laughing uncontrollably. “Dana!”
He stopped and started kissing me instead. “You’re dangerous when you’re tickled. I was afraid you were gonna hit me in the head.”
“That’s why you’re not supposed to tickle me,” I mumbled through the kiss.
“But you’re relaxed now, right?” he stepped back, satisfaction in his eyes. “It worked.”
“At a cost,” I sighed in exasperation. “That was a terrible method of ‘relaxation.’”
“It still worked,” Dana quickly kissed me and turned the music back on. “Again from the top.”
