Learn to Love You by Jade Hernández
is a Latinx Romance set in a fictional place in the U.S. It is not mentioned where, as I leave it open ended and up to the interpretation of the reader. There are a few places mentioned that are purely fictional and are not meant to mimic real life places. The situations, family dynamics, and culture in this book is taken from my own experience and is not meant to encompass Mexican culture as a whole. The contents within are meant fictitiously.
In this book, there is a constant use of Spanish words, endearments, and phrases. These will not always be translated into English afterwards and won’t be italicized. This is a personal writing style and choice.
There is an instance in the book in which Junior (the MC) calls Mayda (the FMC) ‘cusca.’ While this translates online to mean ‘whore’ or ‘slut’ it is not used in that context. As an author who lives in Mexico, that term is used in my region to mean ‘greedy’ or ‘hungry for sex’ and is not meant to slut-shame in any way, shape, or form.
rancho ‘Los Corazones.’ He said it was because that’s where a man encountered his strength. In his heart, in his family, and in his rancho. Corazón. Familia. Rancho. Three integral things that made up the living, breathing mechanism that was our lives.
I was the second of five, and the only son. That, of course, didn’t include the ranch hands that lived on the property or Doña Gloria and her son—my best friend—Hector. The trabajadores were as much my family as my sisters and I were, given that my parents liked to theoretically adopt anyone they deemed worthy of carrying the Águila-Gutierrez last names.
Sunlight slanted against my bare skin, the wind whispering secrets to me as I leaned my elbows against the wooden fence. I was usually up before anyone else at the house stirred so I could be witness to this. The warm morning sun spread across the acreage of crops and farmland, gripping at Los Corazones with orange and pink fingers of light, giving our property a subtle, golden glow. It was going to be blistering later, though I didn’t mind the heat any more than I minded tending to the crops and taking care of the animals. Latin blood ran through my veins, through and through.
I relished in these few moments of silence before my sisters swept through like the storms they were, filling the rancho with their exuberant laughter and mismatching personalities. I didn’t live at the house with them anymore. I’d moved out to one of the smaller cabins that dotted the edge of our rancho meant for the trabajadores, but I could always hear the noise from the main house floating towards my front door. It never failed to put a smile on my face, but there was something particularly soothing about the quiet, too.
Pushing myself away from the fence, I turned and made my way up the cobblestone path where the main house greeted me. With its orange shutters, archways, and walls painted in the yellow and red tones of a sunset, it reminded me of the streets of a Mexican Pueblo Mágico every time I walked up to it. I supposed our little paradise had the workings of a magical village all on its own, a perfect mix of new and traditional, bursting at the seams with colorful rose bushes and blooms of noche buena.
I slipped inside the back door that led to the kitchen, greeted by the delicious aroma of food, the pulsing echo of music, and a woman standing over the stove, shaking her body to the beat.
“Hmm, something smells good.” I closed the door behind me with a snap, causing Doña Gloria to startle, spine going rigid. She whirled almost immediately, smacking my chest with a damp dish towel.
“Me espantaste, Junior!”
Holding back my laughter, I pulled her small, plump body towards my much larger frame to press a kiss to her forehead. Affection swelled in my chest when she patted her palm against my chest in a warm greeting.
“Sorry, Doña Gloria.” I tried to make myself look contrite, though my lips pressed into a thin line of amusement that I was sure she could make out immediately.
She grumbled in rapid Spanish as she peeled her body from mine. I heard whispered curses and threats of chanclasos, the dish towel twisting in her tight grip. Just the thought of getting hit with a dreaded sandal had me biting at my lips and backing up a discreet step.
I was no stranger to the wrath of mothers, even if they weren’t technically mine. That was the issue with knowing her my entire life. Trust was built from the time I was in diapers and the consequences of her friendship with my mamá meant double the punishments.
I was spared a chancla to the face as she turned her stocky figure back towards the stove. “You’re up early,” she commented as she sprinkled salt in the pan.
“I’m always up early.”
She hummed and pointed her spoon in the direction of the olla de barro simmering on the stove. “There’s café in the pot, but if you want chocolate you’ll have to wait.”
She was a bullet in the kitchen, moving quickly and efficiently from one side to the other, multitasking like a pro. One moment she was grating cheese and the next she was chopping away at lettuce, onion, and radish.
“Do you need help?” I offered, though I knew it was in vain.
The kitchen was her domain, and she didn’t let anyone except my mamá and abuela in here, and that was only because they were the jefas of the house, or else I was sure they’d have been kicked out as well.
Still, Doña Gloria beamed at me and sauntered over to pet my cheeks in her rough palms. Her affection was never lost on me, and I relished in it. “You’re a good boy, mijo. Now get out of my kitchen.”
Laughing, I poured myself a cup of café, taking out a second mug when I heard the door open. A quick look over my shoulder told me it was Hector, already dressed to work out in the fields, in torn-up jeans and a t-shirt. He wiped his dirty boots on the mat and pulled off his sombrero to hang on a nearby hook before he came in and pressed a kiss to his ma’s cheek.
“Buenos días, ma. Thanks, bro.” He took the mug I handed him, taking a sip of the café and promptly burning his tongue. “Sh—shoot,” he amended when he caught his mother’s glare. He flashed her a sheepish grin, showing off the dimples I’d heard my sisters whispering about more than once when they thought I couldn’t hear.
What was it with their obsession with face holes?
“Since you’re both here, you can set the table. Everyone else will be down shortly.”
I was already moving, pulling stacks of plates from cupboards and handing them off to Hector so he could set them out in the dining room.
“What’s for breakfast?” he asked as he rummaged through drawers to find utensils.
Doña Gloria cooked for our family as well as for some of the ranch hands in the afternoons at lunch hour. While our rancho had accommodations for our workers, they didn’t all live on the property. They were as much a part of our lives as Doña Gloria and Hector were. Thanks to them, this place ran smoothly and because of that, my father treated them exceptionally well and offered them a home. Yet only Doña Gloria and Hector ate with us in the mornings.
“Chilaquiles. Extra spicy.”
“Who’s hungover?” I joked. Chilaquiles were a tradition in our household. We usually ate them after a night of heavy drinking or on Sundays after mass. Since it was Saturday, it could only mean one thing.
“That would be Gabriela and Mayda.”
I almost dropped my coffee mug, my clumsy fingers grasping tightly at the handle. I cleared my throat, hoping no one saw my fumble, but a quick look at Hector’s amused grin told me I wasn’t as slick as I wished.
“Mayda is here?”
There was a certain tightness to the question that had me clearing my throat almost immediately. The fact that she’d mentioned her shouldn’t have been surprising, but like always, a warm sensation nestled into my chest. It wrapped around her name and held on tightly, like how I’d sometimes wrap my fingers around the end of her ponytail and tug, not wanting to let go.
“They went out dancing last night. Your poor mamá was up all night waiting for them to come home.” She shook her head back and forth and clucked her tongue, though a small smile touched her lips afterwards.
As far as rebelliousness went in my hermanas, Gabriela was not. Adventurous and opinionated, sure, but she would never purposefully make my mamá worry about her. She was the golden girl.
I opened my mouth to answer but was interrupted as loud voices reached my ears from upstairs. It was followed by pounding footsteps as my sisters bounded down. The storm was coming, and I braced myself with a smile on my lips as it finally swept through.
“Something smells delicioso!” Ximena rounded the corner first. Her tight curls were speckled in paint and tied in twin pigtails, held together with different sized paint brushes. As if she’d rolled on canvas and hastily got dressed this morning, oblivious to the rainbow staining her body. Behind her, Sofia walked in more quietly, her nose tilted as she sniffed the delicious aroma of breakfast.
Sofia and Ximena were as close in age as Gabriela and I. Ten months apart, to be exact, both twenty-three years old. Sofia was older, and though they couldn’t be more different, in personalities and appearance, the two were as close as twins.
“Chilaquiles! Please tell me there’s arroz con leche, too!” This came from the youngest, Valentina, who all but barreled past Ximena and Sofia in her quest to come peek in at the pots simmering on the stove. Her loose hair hung over the flames, nearly singeing the ends as she bounced on the heels of her feet.
“Cuidado, bonita.” Hector grabbed her around the waist and pulled her away from the danger, only to let go just as quickly. She whirled, a bright smile painting her face and a flush brightening her cheeks. “You’re gonna burn your hair all off,” he scolded, though there was no real heat to his cadence.
Valentina rolled her eyes at Hector and turned away, taking care this time to twist her hair behind her neck. She tried inching towards the food again, but Doña Gloria swatted the dish towel in her direction, shooing her away.
“We have leche con chocolate,” Doña Gloria snapped. “Now get out of my kitchen.”
Valentina’s laugh was boisterous as she leaned over to kiss Doña Gloria’s cheek, murmuring, “Buenos días.”
“Good morning everyone!” I looked up from my coffee mug to see my parents rounding the corner. They were usually up and ready for the day before my sisters, as much a part of the exuberant mornings as the rest of us. “Hmm, that smells delicious, Gloria,” my mamá said. She looked freshly showered, her long, graying hair braided over her slender shoulder.
“Thanks, Claudia. Everyone take a seat, it’s ready!”
There was chaos after that as everyone rushed past each other to take their seats at the long table. I waited, rolling my eyes at their antics, and didn’t move until they were all seated. I followed after at a much slower pace to avoid the stampede of bodies, but as I did, someone else rounded the corner that separated the kitchen from the staircase, ramming into my body. I jerked my mug back, café sloshing over the rim and burning my fingers, my other hand shooting out to steady the delicate figure before she toppled backwards.
“Woah!”
Her hands pressed against my chest. Hazel eyes met my own, big and bright and framed by dark lashes and smeared with glitter and mascara. Her light brown hair was worn in waves down her shoulders, twisted and ratted like she just got out of bed without combing it. Pajamas hugged her form and I tried not to stare too hard at her curves, or at the fact that she obviously wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her flimsy tank top.
Don’t oggle her nipples, pendejo.
“Cuidado,” I told her, my voice low.
“Junior!” The nickname I’d had since birth pushed from her lips like the softest of sighs. “Sorry!”
Gabriela came up behind her, my older sister raising her eyebrows at Mayda’s and my proximity. I pulled away with a guilty smile, though every instinct that charged through my body demanded I glue myself to her. Everything about that was a bad idea. Not only because she was my sister’s best friend, but because she never gave me a single inkling that she wanted me in the same way I wanted her. I was nothing to her but someone to side eye, my flirting brushed off and ignored, laughed into a corner of solitude and want.
Despite that, my fingers itched to touch her again, and I gave into the almost desperate urge. With my free hand, I reached around the back of her neck. Her body tensed for a mere fraction of a second, but she didn’t pull away as I lightly caressed the tips of her messy hair. The feather-light touch sent a surge of energy up my arm and a deliciously tempting voice whispered in the back of my mind. To touch. To tug. To claim.
I tightened my hand, gripping a fistful of her dark strands and I pulled, angling her neck back so our eyes met and held. Her mouth dropped open, the heart shape of her lips forming a perfect little bow.
“Don’t worry about it,” I whispered. And as quickly as I gripped and pulled, I released her hair, letting it glide back against her back.
I regretted letting her go the moment I did, because not a second later, her gaze flitted away, as skittish as a bird startled from a perch. “Good morning,” she mumbled, already pushing past me to go into the dining room to take her seat.
I watched her go, unable to explain the longing that began to grow in my chest every time she was near. I blew out a breath, fighting some weird, primal urge inside to rush after her. To wrap my fingers around her hair once again, just so she’d keep that gaze fixated on me for just a bit longer.
The only time she ever looked at me was in those moments, and like a thief, I took as many as I could get, because I knew there was no other way she’d ever glance at me if I didn’t.
Damn.
The thought was almost sobering as much as it was heartbreaking.