A week later, I met Didi and Gustavo at the bar for breakfast. I still wasn’t used to the concept of a bar for breakfast, but when in Spain…

We’d exchanged phone numbers to study and had been constantly texting after the explosion to make sure everyone was okay. This morning, we’d agreed to meet up to check on each other.

Over the past few weeks, Didi had become a friend. I found out he was a Miley fan, too. We made up plans for me to go visit him in Germany. And Tavo was so cool. After I texted him to see if he was okay, I got nonstop texts back. Fascinated by vintage American culture and movies, he peppered me with messages, sending me link after link of YouTube videos, links to Wikipedia articles, and IMDB cites for old actors and actresses, wanting to know if I knew more than the internet. Uh, no. But Spanish to the core, he also invited me over to his family’s house for dinner for an upcoming festival.

For the past week, the central city had been cordoned off to repair the damage from the explosion. While our apartments and the historic monuments hadn’t suffered, a nightclub had been bombed. Luckily it was at a time when no one was there—no one went to nightclubs in Spain until really late. The mood of the city was still one of shock and fear, especially with no one claiming responsibility for the attack. But little by little, people started emerging, going about their business in a tentative way.

School closed for a week. Dani’s meeting was pushed off. Everything was delayed.

I’d spent the entire time in her arms.

Now, not only did I have nightmares, but she did, too. With awareness, though, and several calls to Marie Thrash, we both felt like we could go forward.

Dani had caught me arranging my cards on the table—my daily inventory.

“Why do you always take out your things and put them back?”

Letting out a breath, I said, “I don’t know. I think it helps keep my brain organized. Like if I have everything here, then I’m all here.”

“Have you told Marie about it?”

“No. But I will.” I told her about how I showered, and she insisted on a demonstration.

That ended up with me inside her.

I also emailed the VA, telling my counselor that I’d started therapy.

But now, with things starting to reopen, I needed to act on that note from the university. As I drank my coffee and talked with Tavo and Didi, I felt proud that between school, living in Spain, and catching words on television or wherever, I’d learned some Spanish. Instead of the language being an undifferentiated mass of syllables, I was starting to understand words within a sentence, often knowing three or more at a time.

Progress.

“I knew you liked the teacher, amigo,” Gustavo said in English.

“Yeah. She’s in trouble for it. I never meant that to happen. I didn’t even think about it. I’ve known her my whole life.”

“Are you still going to be in the class?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I need to talk to the registrar. Maybe I can switch to another class. Do you know how the school found out?”

They shook their heads. “We’d never tell,” said Didi.

“Right.” Tavo took a sip of his coffee. “We’d never get in the way of amor, James Dean.”

I smiled. “Thanks, amigo.”

When we finished, I headed to school early and went directly to the registrar.

“Can I help you?” she asked in Spanish.

“I’d like to change classes,” I answered, grateful that I knew how to say that.

She switched to English. “Is this because of Profesora Anderson?”

“Yes. I’m in love with her.”

The registrar eyed me. “I saw you two leaving the cathedral, holding hands. A teacher is not supposed to be involved with a student.”

I’m glad that’s the only thing she saw in the cathedral.

“I’ve loved her my whole life.”

The registrar regarded me with surprise. “Really?”

“Really. She’s my best friend’s sister.”

“Hmmm,” she said, noncommittal.

I leaned over the desk. “Can I transfer into a different class?”

She flipped through some papers, looked around, then gazed at me, sizing me up. “It is unusual, but there is space for you, yes, in Professor Wyatt King’s class. The class is in the afternoons on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“I’d like that,” I said, and waited for her to change me in the system, then print out a confirmation.

I checked my phone. I had minutes to spare before her meeting. I sprinted down the hall, clutching my transfer papers.

Without knocking, I opened the door. Dani stood in front of five serious Spanish administrators, three women and two men.

They looked up, surprised at my entry. Dani blinked rapidly and bit her lip. I hadn’t told her exactly what I planned.

I could tell I’d interrupted one of the women, speaking to Dani in Spanish, I’m sure telling her that it did not reflect well on the school for a teacher to be romantically involved with a student.

“Uh, hola,” I said. “Me llamo Trent.”

Dani’s eyebrows narrowed, and she cocked her head.

“Who are you?” the woman asked me in Spanish.

“The one who loves Danika Anderson.” I started reading from a paper in Spanish. “I came to Spain because I couldn’t be away from Professor Anderson. I have known her my whole life. I signed up for her class so I could be with her. We are consenting adults, and we are in love. I don’t care about my grade, so I am quitting the class. I have signed up with another teacher. Please keep her as a teacher, she is excellent.”

When I finished, silence filled the room so thick, I could’ve molded it into a sculpture. But Dani beamed.

“Well?” I asked.

The line of stiff Spanish bureaucrats stared at each other.

“So you are no longer taking the class?”

“Right. I am no longer her student.”

They started whispering into each other’s ears. With a shrug, the man on the end, a portly Spaniard with a mustache, ripped up the papers in front of him.

“Amor.”

The other administrators shrugged. Love. It’s what you do in Spain.

“She’s free?” I asked.

“She can remain teaching,” he said. “So long as you are not in her class.”

“Thank you!” Dani cried, and hugged me. “Thank you,” she said to the administrators. “My apologies for any of this. I didn’t mean to fall in love, but I did.”

“We understand,” said the woman. “Buena suerte.”

* * *

That night, naked in bed, arms wrapped around each other, I pointed to her head.

“La cabeza,” I said.

Dani smiled. “Muy bien.”

“El cuello.” With a move, I hovered over her and kissed her neck.

She sighed. “Yes.”

“El pecho.” My finger pointed to her pretty chest.

“That’s right.”

I sucked on her nipple, gently, then with a harder bite like a tang. A twist. One that made her know I was there. Not to hurt, just to make her feel alive.

“Love that,” she whispered.

My hands roamed down her body, down her middle, my finger tracing a path that my tongue then followed. “El ombligo.”

“Belly button.”

“See, you’re still my Spanish teacher, even if I’m in someone else’s class.”

She giggled and bopped me with a pillow. “You think you’ll keep up with it?”

“Yeah, I like learning how to talk.”

“You’ll still be my action hero, though. Even if you know how to communicate.”

“We complement each other, don’t we?” I asked.

“I think so.”

“I’ll watch over you and make sure you’re safe. I’ll let you fly wherever you want. You have that freedom. But I’ll always be a base for you.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she didn’t say anything.

I continued, “And you’ll teach me. Make it so I learn.”

“And we’ll both be free.”

“Yeah, babe. Absolutely free. You’re gonna liberate people by making them understand each other. And I’m gonna keep them safe. But we’re both gonna make a better world.”

“My patient soldier.”

“Not that patient. I’m getting to where I’ve got a lot of ideas about what I want to do to this hot body of yours tonight.”

She cuddled into me. “As your earth goddess, I’ll let you have your way with me.”

As I made my way down her body, I asked, “Have you ever tried any of that tantric yoga?”

“No. I always thought it was invented by horny yogis to get their disciples to sleep with them.”

“Really? I would have figured you’d be into it.”

“I’m all for trying. You in me and me in you. My tongue in your mouth and your cock in me. Breathing into each other, the energy flowing from the tops of our heads, and out.”

“Yeah,” I said hurriedly. “We’re doing that.”