Miguel looked at her a moment, then, a second later, he laughed. It was a mirthful laugh, honest, not holding back. It was good-natured as well, not laughing at the suggestion or at her but at himself. With a sheepish expression, he rubbed at the back of his head.
"English is very...dificil." What little English he picked up from the cruise line as they trained him had been memorized at a painstakingly slow pace. "Y no gusta la escuela."
"/Spanish is easier. I could teach you Spanish, though./" He grinned from ear to ear. Spanish was much easier than English, which made absolutely no sense.