𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄, pedri gonzález

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙚, pedri

❝ but i'm only looking at you. ❞
⇄ ◃◃   ⅠⅠ   ▹▹ ↻

"I gotta ask," I start up as I place Paul's Barca suitcase in the trunk and Liv helps him into a seat in the car.

"Yeah?" I see her head from the back of the car as she helps her little brother buckle his seat belt properly.

"¿Qué fue lo del Real Madrid de antes? Las kes, no se que... (What was that Real Madrid thing earlier? The kes, I don't know what...)" I switch to Spanish since she doesn't want her brother repeating that word ever again.

She was completely in shock when he said it earlier and I just gotta know what it means. I close the trunk and start walking to the driver's seat.

She simultaneously closes the door and heads to the passenger seat. "You're not gonna understand but basically it's translation is el coño de tu mamá. (your mom's pussy.)" I can now understand why she yelled at her brother the way she did.

"You're kidding me!" I laugh as I get in my seat, and start up the car. "How does that even make sense!?"

"I've solved half the world's problems in my head but I still can't figure out how we come up with all these swear words." She says.

I remove the sunglasses and put them back in the glove compartment. Taking off my camp, I turn around and place it on the little guy's head. "Para ti. (For you.)" I wink.

He's too happy when he gets it that he doesn't even ask what 'para ti' means. I turn and see Olive looking at me in awh.

"He's never gonna give it back." She tells me as she looks at her brother who's overly excited over a Barca cap.

"Never was my intention to get it back." I tell her, grinning.

She removes her cap but keeps her sunglasses to protect her from the Barcelona sun that's now right in our faces.

Olive starts up a conversation with her brother about his plane ride and the events leading up to it. He'd sometimes switch to Arabic unintentionally which would make me stop understanding. But then Olive would whisper the translation over to me just so I can be in the loop.

"You guys hungry?" I interrupt them. I'm pretty sure a seven year old who just spent over four hours on a plane is hungry, so I'm asking for his sake.

"Eh!" He smiles. Only Arabic word I know, and will probably ever know.

"You like McDonald's?" He's a child, of course he does. What kind of kid doesn't dream of a happy meal everyday?

"Then let's get you some McDonald's." I speak, taking the left turn instead of the usual way home to pass by the drive through.

He continues telling his story about how he watched spider-man on the plane to Liv as we make our way to the drive through.

Arriving there, we wait for a car to finish up before it's our turn. Paul stops talking, waiting impatiently for me to order his food.

I look at him through the visor, that kid really looks like his older sister. And he's so cute. I honestly thought he was gonna be annoying but for now, he's just been telling typical children stories while laughing all the time.

It's barely been a half hour, but I got a feeling that'll all workout. Especially since Olive hasn't stopped smiling ever since he arrived. She's enjoying this much more than she'd like to admit.

She has stopped smiling for a minute though when the woman that helped Paul came over. I was so enjoying that because jealous Olive is definitely one of my favorites, and the hottest.