The Thrill Is Gone

Paulina didn’t end up mounting during her stay at Highgrove, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying. She actually came pretty close to it, having climbed up the step stool that Harry provided her, but when it came time to mount, the damn horse whinnied. And Paulina, terrified by the unexpected noise, let go of the reigns and fell off the stool, falling harshly onto the ground. She was furious and shaken, and absolutely done with horses or anything horse related, but despite the profanity that spewed from her lips and the agitated look worn by her face, Harry tried to coax her into giving horse riding another chance. Falling was a part of the experience, he argued. It was all about picking oneself up off the ground and having another go at it, but Paulina didn’t care about the experience. She was far too busy stomping out of the stables in her dirt covered pants, to even bother herself by thinking about the experience.

Despite not having been successful at mounting, Paulina did manage one victory during her five day stay at Highgrove House . . . Prince Charles loved the enchiladas. His unfamiliarity with the dish made him initially hesitant, he wasn’t sure how the sauce would sit with him, if the texture would put him off, but the first taste set those fears to rest. And he was so taken by the richness of the flavor that he asked for seconds, and a few days later, he even told Harry to ask Paulina if she’d whip up another batch. That was something that she was more than happy to do.

All in all, she counted her time at Highgrove as a success. She got on more personal terms with Charles, whom had made sure to leave his evenings open to spend time with the young couple. She learned that despite appearances (and her own preconceived notions), he was actually rather charming. He was by no means as charming as his sons, but still charming enough to make her feel truly welcomed in his home. Throughout the course of their evenings together, they learned that they had a shared fondness for of classic rock, Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd were a mutual interest. Apparently, in his younger days, Charles had seen them live several times. Their love of plants also provided another strong conversational topic, as did the various talking points that Lord and Lady Fellowes had made Paulina memorize during her visits with them.

Harry was proud of the way the evenings went between his father and girlfriend. They were both at ease with each other, and despite the fact that Paulina remained very formal while addressing Prince Charles, it was obvious that the young woman felt relaxed, which made Harry breathe easy. He knew that she’d been nervous about spending so much time in his father’s company, but as the days progressed, she grew increasingly comfortable being in Charles’ presence. Charles was also quite proud of the young woman his son was seeing. She had superior manners, the sort that even his own mother would commend, and a pleasing countenance that endeared her to others.

“She’s a terribly charming young woman.” Charles had told Harry. “There’s something in her countenance . . . in her air that is most disarming.”

“That mean you approve?” asked Harry.

“Wholeheartedly,” answered Charles. “I’d be a fool to find fault with her, especially when I’ve already sanctioned her involvement with you in front of your grandmother. But rest assured that I have found her to be a most pleasant young woman. Her manners are refined, and she is in possession of a most superior mind. And I am certain that when your grandmother comes around, she will also approve.”

“I doubt she’ll ever come around,” mumbled Harry.

“Give her time.” Charles felt it was one of those moments when a few inspirational, emotion packed words would do his son well, but Charles wasn’t particularly skilled in expressing his emotions. “She . . . she means well, your grandmother.”

“Does she?” Harry nearly scoffed. “All she’s done is go on about how Paulina’s a no good tart that wants nothing more than my title. That’s what Gran’s been saying. And it’s ridiculous! The lot of it! Paulina’s not a tart and she couldn’t give less a damn about my title. And the fact that she’s upset over Paulina being American and Catholic is just . . . it’s nonsense! Even I know its rubbish. How can someone not like someone because of something so stupid?”
“It’s not stupid to her.” Charles argued. “She’s from a different time, Harry. Over the years, she has made attempts at being modern, but she was raised to think a certain way regarding who is suitable for the monarchy.”

“See that’s the thing that bugs me. She always goes on about how she wants to do what’s right for the monarchy, but I'm not gonna be king. That’s Wills business.” Harry let out a weary sigh. “I just want to be left alone by her. Is that too much to ask? I mean, I'm behaving well enough. No more of those night outs that she’d have a go at me for, but even that’s not enough for her. Now she’s talking my ear off, because she doesn’t like my girlfriend. She’s just, she’s –”

“Just give her time.” Charles interjected, not wanting to hear his son say something foolish. “That’s all you can do.”

“Can’t ya tell her something?”

“I already have, but according to your grandmother, I am not a sound judge of character, and am not to be trusted.” Charles chuckled to himself at the absurdity of his mother. “Not to worry though, as I said, she’ll come around. Now, aren’t you meant to be off? I don’t want you to keep Miss Balcázar waiting.”

“Neither do I. She’ll get snappy at me if we’re late to the airport.”

“Airport?” repeated Charles. “What business do you have at an airport? You’re meant to be in Sandringham in three days time. God knows what your grandmother would do if you’re late.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t be late to Sandringham. I know how Gran is with that, sets a time for us to get there so she can be in control for the entire week.” He hated having to be there all week. A few days were fine, Christmas was meant to be spent with family, but an entire week was far too much in his opinion. There were other things to do, more entertaining things than being on a schedule his Gran had set out for him. “But as for the airport, we’re only going to pick up one of her mates. The bloke’s flying in from Berlin to stay with her during the holidays. She’d planned on picking him up on her own, but I figured since I’ve a few days to myself that I’d meet him. You know? See what her mate from America’s like.”

“What is her mate from America doing in Berlin?” asked Charles, puzzled as to what the young man would be doing in Germany.

“He had an internship there.” Harry replied. “Apparently, he’s quite the architect and landed a paid eighteen month internship. It’s just ended, that’s why he’s on his way back, but he’s never been to England, and since Paulina’s here he figured it’d be the best time.”

“I can’t imagine he’ll be able to travel comfortably through England. Not with the press constantly following Miss Balcázar. I still can’t believe they followed her onto campus. That was unpardonable, even for them.”

“And when they couldn’t get into classrooms, they paid students to take pictures for them,” Harry added. “They don’t have any bloody shame, fucking wankers.”

Charles nodded in agreement. “But Miss Balcázar seems to be taking it well, the press that is.”

“She gets on well enough, but I reckon half the time she’s imaging what it’d be like to land a punch on some of them. Especially since she’s a habit of punching people . . .” A faint smile made its way onto Harry’s face, the memory of their first meeting suddenly striking him. “I think it’s time I leave,” he said, realizing they were wasting time. “You gonna see us out?”

“Yes, of course.”

The pair then made their way towards one of the sitting rooms near the main entrance of the home. In there, stood Paulina near a window, gazing out into the countryside. She’d truly enjoyed her stay at Highgrove House. It was a true relief to have been so warmly accepted by Prince Charles. The entire week she’d been fretting over whether or not he’d approve of her once they were put in close company, but he’d been nothing short of amiable and had shown her kindness, even if it was at times a reserved sort of kindness. Their parting was all warmth.

And almost as soon as she and Harry climbed into their awaiting vehicle, she began gushing about just how fucking great everything had gone. He listened with a smile as she went on about how his dad had such impeccable musical taste, and how friendly he’d been to her. Sure, he wasn’t extremely friendly, it wasn’t like they were old friends that grabbed pints together, and laughed at stupid things, but he’d been as warm to her as a boyfriend’s dad could be to their son’s girlfriend, and she was delighted by that, but by no means more delighted than Harry. Harry was relieved that they got on as well as they did. He was worried that his dad would do something to put her off. Charles didn’t have the best record with most people, but his dad had taken an active role in being charming and welcoming, and Harry was immensely grateful that he was. It meant everything to him to know that he had such a strong supporter in his father and brother. Knowing that they approved, gave him hope that one day in the future – hopefully the not to far off future – his grandmother would stop being so bloody absurd, and approve his relationship.

It wasn’t so much that he needed her approval. He just wanted to get her off his back, because regardless of whether or not she sanctioned his relationship with Paulina, he was going to keep at it, because if there was one thing he was sure of, it’s that she was the best thing to ever happen to him. And he wasn’t about to give that up.

“Ya reckon we can stop for breakfast?” asked Harry as they drove towards London Heathrow Airport. “I know ya said we’d eat with him, but I'm famished! And don’t think I’ll survive until we get to your flat. Just imagine how I’ll get if I don’t have any food in me! I’ll be an absolute prat, I will.”

Paulina knew exactly how Harry was when he didn’t eat. He got cranky and irritable, and said stupid things that got him glared at or, on a few occasions, told off. And knowing that he wasn’t a pleasant man to be around when he was hungry, she’d packed him a snack to hold him off until they reached her flat.

“We’re already running late as it is.” Paulina spoke as she grabbed her bag off the floor. “His flight’s meant to land in twenty minutes, so there’s no way we can stop somewhere to grab you something to eat, but –”

“But?” repeated Harry, curious as to what she had to say.

“But I packed you a snack,” she informed him. That said, she reached into her purse, and after a bit of fumbling around, pulled out a container in which she’d prepared a fruit salad. “Here you go.”

“Fruit?” he scrunched his nose in distaste. “There’s no way that’ll appease me.”

“It’s not just fruit,” she said quickly, shooting him a look. “I brought you a muffin as well. Let me just find it . . . ah . . . here it is! And here’s the juice box. Just remember when you go back to your dad’s to take the container.”

A goofy grin erupted onto his face when she finished taking out the food. “See, this is why I love you. Come on, love. Get over here and give us a kiss.”

“Hush up and eat your breakfast.” Her cheeks were taking on a brighter look, and she was trying desperately not to seem so pleased with yourself.

“Ya want to kiss me.” He said in a singsong voice. “I can see it on your face. Your cheeks are getting all rosy and –”

He wasn’t going to stop until he got a kiss. She knew that much from having been around him for eight months, officially dating him for five. And so, she unfastened her seatbelt and turned sharply, placing a quick peck on his lips before fastening herself back in. It all happened so fast that Harry doubted as to whether it had actually happened or it was a vivid hallucination he’d just had.

“W-what was that?” he stuttered.

“You know what that was,” she declared, simply. “Now eat your breakfast.”

With a coy smile she gazed out the window, eager to get to London Heathrow Airport to be reunited with her oldest and most trusted friend Rodolfo Manuel Gaviria or Rudy, as he preferred to be called. He was a year older than her, but they were neighbors whom had been in each other’s constant company ever since his parents moved into the house next to hers when he was four and she was three. He spent a lot of time over at her house, having been the only son out of three children made him seek out the company of the older boy’s next doors, but he also had a soft spot for Paulina. Though in all honesty, it wasn’t much of a soft spot. He didn’t see her as a sister. He wasn’t protective of her. That is to say, he wasn’t crazy like her brothers that would get up in her business about who she was dating, according to him that was her shit to deal with, but if someone ever tried to start a fight with her or if she needed someone there for support, he’d be there, without a doubt.

Rodolfo simply saw Paulina as – what he called his five closest friends – one of the homies. She could look after herself, she could handle the drinking, she always had a friend’s back, even when they were in the wrong, and that was all anyone could ever ask of a homie. Well, that and a love of rancheras and futbol.

The rest of the drive went by rather quickly, by the time they arrived at the airport, Rodolfo had just gotten through immigration and was on his way to baggage claim, it wouldn’t be long before he’d be able to make his way into the main area where his bright eyed friend and her messy haired boyfriend awaited his arrival.

Harry and Paulina had made it through the parking structure quietly enough. Only one person had realized who they were, and they hadn’t really made much of a fuss of it, but the moment they stepped out into the open, the photographers that made a living out of waiting to see which celebrities emerged from the airport, spotted them, and began following after them.

It wasn’t until the airport security stepped in that they were able to get away from the flashing lights and shouts from the photographers, but even then, Paulina knew that they were going to have to deal with it on their way out. And while Harry and she were accustomed to the over the top attention, Rodolfo wasn’t. He’d never been followed around by a group or photographers or cornered while he walked down the street to pick something up from the local market, and that made her worry about how he’d react to the unwanted attention the press would surely pay him.

“What’s that bloke look like again? Rudy, that is.” Harry asked as he stared into the blocked off area.

“Just look for someone wearing a Mexico football jersey,” replied Paulina, knowing very well that Rodolfo always traveled with one of those jerseys on. “It should be a green one,” she added.

Harry returned his attention to the arrivals area in front of him, mentally willing Paulina’s friend to step out already, but Rodolfo took ten minutes longer before he stepped out into the opening. Just as Paulina had said, he was wearing a bright green football jersey, it was his favorite, and according to him, it was lucky, having once gotten him an upgrade to first class.

“He’s here.” Harry told her. “Just stepped out of the gate, he did.”

At those words, a bright grin erupted across her face.

“Let’s go!” she exclaimed, excitedly. “Come on, güerito.”

She took hold of his hand and dragged him off towards the end of the gates that separated the travelers from their loved ones. They moved at a brisk pace, she was mindful enough to know that running would garner too much attention, but her excitement refused to let her move at a regular pace.

When they reached the end of the gated area, Rodolfo was barely halfway, but as soon as his eyes settled on his grinning friend, he picked up his speed, pushing his trolley around with a newfound strength.

“Sup fea (ugly)!” he greeted her, a mischievous smirk plastered on his face. “Nice to see your ass remembered to show up.”

“Like I’d forget to pick up your ugly ass,” she shot back, a smirk mirroring his own taking up residence on her face. “I wouldn’t hear the end of it, if I did.”

“Not even, don’t make me sound like a chick.” He stepped out from behind his trolley. “Wouldn’t hear the end of it . . .” he repeated to himself. “Mis nalgas (my ass), you wouldn’t hear the end of it. You swear I'm Gonzalo, that fucker never let’s anything slide. Fuck it. He’s just pissed off cuz he’s the brown bomber.” The nickname in question was one that Gonzalo had picked up after a night of heavy drinking which had culminated with him shitting himself in the backseat of Rodolfo’s old Toyota. “We need to get him to shit himself again. It might’ve been nasty as fuck, but it was hilarious.”

“It was.” Paulina agreed. “Enough of that shit though, it’s good seeing you.”

“Hell yeah it is, I'm a real fucking treat.” Rodolfo stepped towards her, taking her extended hand into his before pulling her into a one armed hug. “Fucking hell, it’s been to long.” He said as he patted her on the back. “So where’s your güerito?” asked Rodolfo as they pulled apart.

“He’s right over here.” Paulina smiled proudly and then reclaimed her place at Harry’s side. “Rudy, this is my boyfriend, Harry. And Henry this is my oldest friend, Rodolfo.”

Rodolfo grimaced at the sound of his name. No one other than his parents called him by his first name, and that was only when he was in trouble.

“Fuck that, call me Rudy.” He stated as he extended his hand for Harry to shake. Rodolfo wasn’t hung up on how to address a prince. Queen Elizabeth II wasn’t his sovereign, as such, he didn’t have to abide by the traditional manner in which royalty was addressed, but despite that, he would be respectful, even if his version of respectful didn’t include a bow. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’ve been wondering when we’d finally get a chance to chill.” He shot Harry a friendly smile. “This one over here’s been talking you up. Well, vaguely talking you up, since she’s all paranoid about saying too much on the phone or computer. She fucking swears her shits gonna get tapped. No one’s gonna be getting near her stuff after that stunt that asshole pulled.”

“That’s precisely what I say, but she’s quite fixed on that.” Harry spoke as they shook hands.

“It’s not that I'm fixated on that.” Paulina joined in. “I'm just cautious. I don’t want those assholes getting any scoops on me. Ah. And speaking of those assholes, Rudy, you’re gonna have to put some shades on. There’s a crowd outside waiting for us.”

Rodolfo tilted his head to the side, an annoyed groan leaving his lips. “Fuck man. I don’t want to deal with that shit.”

“Don’t even pull that with me.” Paulina said, slightly narrowing her eyes. “I told you what to expect if you visited.”

“I know. I know.” He grumbled. “But . . . no quiero (I don’t want to). It’s too much of a hassle.”

“Well if you don’t want to, then your ass can stay in London by yourself for the week.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna do that either. Fuck it. Let me get my shades, and then we can head out.” He patted himself down, checking for his aviator glasses, but soon realized he’d forgotten those aboard the plane. “Baboso (dumbass)!” he cursed. “I forgot the fucking things on the plane.”

“That’s not a problem, ya can use mine.” Harry offered, extending his sunglasses towards Rodolfo.

“Thanks, but I think you might need them more than me.”

“I won’t, truly. I'm used to this sort of thing.” Harry reassured. “Please take them. The flashes get out of hand and if your eyes aren’t accustomed it’s quite the strain.”

Rodolfo was hesitant about taking Harry’s glasses, but the reassuring look on the young man’s face coupled with Paulina’s encouraging smile, eventually convinced him to do so. He thanked Harry warmly, and after putting on his jacket and setting the sunglasses in their rightful place, he followed the couple out the door, and into the awaiting ocean of cameras that instantly begin snapping away when the young prince emerged from the doorway.

“Who’s the bloke!” exclaimed the photographers. “Is he a relative of Paulina’s? Perhaps a mate from America?” they shouted as they followed them along. “Awe come on, Paulina, love, tell us who the bloke is! Don’t be so shy!” Growing tired of Paulina and Harry’s silence, they decided to go after the stranger. “Maybe you’d like to have a word for yourself?” they asked Rodolfo. “How about ya tell us your name? Your relationship to Paulina?” they pressed on. “Those glasses don’t fool us; we all know you’re itching to –”

Rodolfo wasn’t as patient as Paulina. When he got annoyed, he didn’t stay quiet, he did something about it. And having someone with foul breath screaming in his face about how they wanted to know more about him, irritated Rodolfo beyond belief. He was going to say something, something incredibly stupid that would undoubtedly end up reflecting badly on Paulina, but thankfully for him, Paulina knew exactly what her friend was going through. And knowing that he was on the verge of doing something incredibly stupid, she pulled him in close, and in his ear, whispered for him to run up the second level of the parking garage, near where the elevators where at, there he’d meet Alistair who’d been asked to wait for them there.

He did as he was told, leaving his trolley with Paulina, and making a path for himself through the photographers. As soon as he’d reached the last of them, he took off in a sprint. There were a few members of the press that considered going after him, but they ended up deciding against it because there was a prince present, and everyone in their field knew that when there was a prince around, it was them that they had to keep their eyes on.

Paulina pushed the trolley along as Harry kept an arm wrapped protectively around her shoulder, and held the other out in front of them, as if to clear the path ahead. In time, they made it to the second level, where Alistair stood waiting for them. Alistair had already shown Rodolfo to the vehicle, having taken the liberty of giving the young man a water since the look on his face made it perfectly clear that he’d been overwhelmed by the press attention.

“How the fuck do you deal with that on the regular?” he asked as soon as Paulina climbed into the vehicle. “I swear I felt like punching someone out. It’s like what the fuck? Do they know nothing of privacy? Pinches culeros (fucking assholes)!” he exclaimed, shaking his head as he did so. “Like, seriously though, they were acting like they could punk me into telling them shit. Who does that?” He shook his head, grumbling to himself as he did so. “That’s not how you’re supposed to treat people. I don’t care if they’re royalty or celebrities or anything fucking else! There has to be some basic respect.”

“My sentiments exactly,” said Harry as he followed Paulina inside. “But apparently, the press doesn’t feel the same. They think we don’t deserve any privacy at all. In fact, just the other day, they snapped a shot of Paulina holding a box of feminine toiletries.”

“Ugh. I still haven’t gotten over that. It’s bad enough to have to deal with cramps, but then those cameras on top of my period, it was just . . . it was a fucking disaster.” She took in a deep breath, pushing that thought aside, along with the anger that accompanied it. “But we shouldn’t dwell on that crap. You’re in England!” she exclaimed, bringing to light the giddiness she’d felt all morning. “And we’re gonna have a fucking rad time! I promise we’ll even try to keep the press exposure to a minimum.”

“Sounds good, but you better not be planning on keeping me locked up. I need to be out if I'm gonna get at some British ass.”

“You just fucking got here! How can you be worried about getting laid when we haven’t even gotten to Oxford yet?” questioned Paulina, shaking her head at him.

“Hey! Calm your ass down. I didn’t say I needed to get laid today, I just said I need to get laid at some point.” Rodolfo stated matter-of-factly. “Harry?” he called to the ginger sitting in front of him.

“Yes?” Harry turned slowly to face the young man, curious to hear what he had to say.

“Blondes or brunettes?” asked Rudy, nonchalantly. “Which are better around here? I’d include gingers, but, no offense to you, I'm not into gingers, and – what the hell’s up with you?” he asked Paulina when he saw her shooting him a dirty look. “I'm just asking a question over here! Geez, can’t do nothing,” he huffed.

“Don’t be asking those kinds of questions. You make people uncomfortable.” Paulina scolded Rodolfo.

“I didn’t make him uncomfortable. Your ass if the one that’s uncomfortable.” Rodolfo shot back.

“Why don’t I shove my foot up your ass and then we’ll see who’s uncomfortable?” threatened Paulina.

“You lot always like this?” Harry butted in, amused by the exchange. “Not that I mind, I was just curious is all.”

“Not all the time.” Rodolfo answered on his and Paulina’s behalf. “But sometimes, yeah, we get like this. Not that often though Alright, alright, often enough,” he chuckled to himself. “So how far is it to Oxford?”

“Not far, only about an hour.” Harry replied. “And traffic’s moving fairly quickly.” He paused, taking a moment to clear his throat. “So, Paulina tells me you were on an internship in Berlin? Was it to your liking?”

“The internship, itself, was.” Rodolfo answered. “The firm I interned for was very concerned with the environment, and creating sustainable structures, which was rad because green buildings are something I'm really into. But at the same time, they were also very concerned with creating pieces that were sleek and modern, pieces that wouldn’t just blend in stylistically. So I had a good time at it. It was a great fucking experience.”

“Are you considering moving to the country then? To be able to put the internship to use, and continue to grow in Berlin?” inquired Harry, politely.

Rodolfo shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time in Berlin, but living there fulltime isn’t something I’d be into. Being there made me realize how much I need the culture and climate of California.”

“Please don’t tell me you get cold as soon as it drops below 21°C. I'm always teasing Paulin about it, and if I find out that other people are like here, I won’t very well be able to continue doing so.”

“As much as I'm a fan of Paulin getting teased, I have to say I get cold as easily as her. It’s cuz we’re used to sunshine. Our winters are in the sixties, so that alone tells you how it is. You should head down to visit at some point; check the weather out for yourself. You can drop by my house. I live right next door to this one.”

“Thank you, I'm actually planning on visiting in the summer. We’re meant to drop by after her graduation.”

They spoke at length about what Harry could do during his stay in California. Rodolfo listed attractions that had to be visited, restaurants that had to be eaten at, and by the time they got to Oxford, they were talking like old friends. That was just how Rodolfo was. He wasn’t guarded and reserved. He was friendly and talkative. Sometimes that was a good thing, other times a bad thing, but that was just how Rodolfo was. And the ease with which he carried himself, and warmth with which he spoke, calmed the nerves that had plagued Harry for the greater part of the morning. He was worried he’d find in Rodolfo the same manner that the Balcázar men possessed, but there was nothing intimidating about the heavily tattooed young man that cursed too much and had a mischievous look to him.

When they reached Paulina’s apartment, the first thing Rodolfo commented on was the smell. In the air, there hung the faint smell of toasted peppers that reminded him of his mother’s kitchen back in California. Her apartment smelled like home, and he stood with his eyes closed for a bit, taking in the scent, relishing it.

“All the way in England and it still manages to smell like home in here.” He spoke, a faraway look in his eyes. “I swear I haven’t smelled anything like this since . . . well, since you went over last year.” He took a moment to stretch. “Anyways, do you need any help in here?”

“Not really. Why don’t you go over to the couch and hang out? I think Harry’s gonna put a movie on once he’s out of the bathroom.”

“I’ll just wait then, until he comes out.” Rodolfo propped himself onto the kitchen counter. “So . . . your güerito seems chill. I seriously wasn’t expecting him to be as laidback as he is.”

“Neither was I. That is to say, I didn’t expect him to be like that when I met him the first few times. He’s great though. Isn’t he? I mean, I think he is and he’s . . . I don’t know, he makes me happy. Me tiene toda loca (he has me all crazy).” She chuckled softly to herself. “You think I'm fucking lame. Don’t you? Go ahead, make fun of me. I know you want to.”

“Nah, I don’t think you’re lame. You’re just all in love and shit.” He ruffled her hair, leaving it an even unrulier mess of curls. “So what we doing later?” he asked. “Are we just gonna kick it here or what?”

“We’re gonna head out to a club later on.” Paulina replied as she walked towards the fridge. “Since the Henry has to go with his family in two days, we want to get the partying out of the way tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll just stay in. Then when he leaves, we’ll rent a car and drive around, go wherever we feel like. It’ll be rad. We’ll get the tequila going, and blast the rancheras.”

“You know what? Let’s just get the tequila going right now.”

“It’s not even eleven.” She protested.

“When’s that ever stopped us from having a drink?” Harry smiled cheekily as he walked into the kitchen area.

“You sure you want to drink this early?” she asked Harry.

Before Harry could answer, Rodolfo spoke. “And just so you know, if you drink with me, you’re gonna have to belt out some rancheras, and don’t say you don’t know any because I know for a fact you know Volver, Volver.”

“I reckon I could put you to shame with that song.” Harry smirked. “I’ve quite perfected it; even that Vicente Fernandez doesn’t do it better than me. Isn’t that right, love?” he looked over at Paulina, a bright smile on his gingery face.

Paulina smiled lovingly at him. “No one sings that song better than you.”

With soaring confidence, Harry redirected his attention to Rodolfo. “Right then, I’ll get the tequila. You put on the music.”