The late June sun was setting, casting a warm, orange glow through Alex's bedroom window. The air was still and quiet, thick with the kind of tension that had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the way Marco was looking at her.
He had her pinned gently against her desk, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path from her jaw to her collarbone. One of his hands was tangled in her hair, the other was sliding under the hem of her shirt, his thumb stroking slow circles on the small of her back. Alex's textbook lay forgotten, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt, her breath hitching in her throat.
"Marco," she breathed, her voice a whisper.
"Sí, mami?" he murmured against her skin, his voice a low, intoxicating rumble.
That was the exact moment the door to her bedroom flew open with its usual lack of ceremony.
"Alex, I need to borrow your—"
Haley.
She froze in the doorway, her eyes wide, her mouth forming a perfect, horrified 'O'. She took in the scene: her sister, flushed and disheveled, pressed against the desk by a very shirtless Marco Rivera, who had frozen mid-kiss, his head snapping toward the door with a look of pure, unadulterated annoyance.
A beat of stunned silence filled the room.
Then, Haley let out a shriek that could have shattered glass. "OH MY GOD! MY EYES!"
Marco, instead of jumping away, simply sighed with the profound exasperation of a man whose favorite TV show had been interrupted. He slowly, deliberately, straightened up, but kept one arm possessively around Alex's waist. "¿Qué pasa, princesa? You need something?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcastic politeness.
Alex, mortified, pushed him back and frantically yanked her shirt down. "HALEY! KNOCK!"
"I DIDN'T KNOW HE WAS IN HERE!" Haley yelled, shielding her eyes with one hand as if she'd stared directly into the sun. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE STUDYING! YOU'RE ALWAYS STUDYING!"
"Well, I wasn't!" Alex snapped, her face burning crimson.
Haley peeked through her fingers, her expression a grotesque mix of disgust and prurient curiosity. "Ew, are you guys… you know? In our childhood home? On a Tuesday?"
Marco rolled his eyes, grabbing his shirt from the floor and pulling it over his head with a frustrated yank. "Yeah, Haley. We were trying to. Thanks for the play-by-play."
"Mom is going to have a heart attack," Haley declared, pointing a trembling finger at them. "Dad is going to get his shotgun."
"Your dad doesn't own a shotgun," Marco deadpanned. "He has a Nerf blaster that shoots foam darts. I'm real scared."
"This is so gross! You're defiling the sanctity of her room!"
"The sanctity was defiled when you used it to test seven different shades of glitter eyeshadow in 2012," Alex retorted, finally finding her voice, sharp and defensive.
Haley gasped, affronted. "That was a creative journey!"
Marco slung his arm back around Alex's shoulders, pulling her against his side. He looked at Haley, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face. "You know, if you're that jealous, I know a guy. A little rough around the edges, but I think you could use a guy who doesn't care about your follower count."
Haley's face contorted in outrage. "I AM NOT JEALOUS! I'M TRAUMATIZED!" She turned on her heel. "I'm telling Mom you were… you were… humping in here!"
"We were not humping!" Alex yelled after her as Haley stormed down the hallway, already shouting, "MOM! You are NOT going to believe what Animal Planet is doing in Alex's room!"
The door slammed shut, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.
Alex let out a long, slow groan and buried her face in Marco's chest. "I'm going to kill her. I'm actually going to kill her."
Marco chuckled, the vibration rumbling through her. He kissed the top of her head. "Nah. It's fine. The mood's dead anyway." He paused, then added thoughtfully, "But for real, your sister has the worst timing of any human being on the planet. It's almost a talent."
From downstairs, they could hear Haley's dramatic, escalating narration and Claire's faint, weary reply: "Haley, for heaven's sake, leave your sister alone!"
Alex looked up at him, the horror slowly being replaced by a wave of exhausted amusement. "My life is a circus."
"Yeah," Marco agreed, his grin returning. "But you've got the best seat in the house." He gestured to himself with a flourish. "Now, where were we before the Princess of Panic interrupted?"
Alex shoved him playfully, but she was laughing, the awkwardness already melting away into just another bizarre, chaotic chapter in the story of them.
***
It was one of those perfect, cloudless June days where the California sun was warm but a steady breeze kept it from being oppressive. Marco pulled his Civic into a parking spot overlooking a stretch of beach that was quieter and rockier than the tourist-filled hubs.
"Alright, family outing," he announced, killing the engine. From the backseat, Sherlock let out an eager whine, his long tail thumping rhythmically against the seat.
Alex, in the passenger seat, looked skeptical. "You're being suspiciously normal. What's the catch? Is Carlos hiding in the trunk with a tiny surfboard?"
Marco gasped, pressing a hand to his heart. "You wound me, mami! Can't a man just take his girl and his dog for a walk on the beach?" He hopped out and opened the back door, clipping the leash onto Sherlock's collar. The moment the puppy's paws hit the sand, he exploded with joy, pulling Marco forward with surprising strength, his nose immediately glued to the ground, tracking a universe of fascinating scents.
There was no catch. For the next hour, it was just… nice.
Marco was still his energetic self, of course. He couldn't just walk; he had to skip a stone across the water, cheering when it bounced four times. He challenged Alex to a race, which she flatly refused, so he raced Sherlock instead, letting the puppy "win" before collapsing dramatically onto the sand, letting Sherlock cover his face in slobbery kisses.
"He's defeated me!" Marco cried, laughing as the dog's tail wagged his entire body. "Mamá, save me!"
Alex watched from a few feet away, a soft, uncharacteristically relaxed smile on her face. This was a different side of his chaos. It wasn't the loud, engine-revving, trash-panda-taming chaos. This was a pure, sun-drenched, joyful energy. He pointed out seabirds, giving them ridiculous names and backstories.
"See that one? That's Frank. He's divorced. He's here to think about his life choices."
He found a particularly smooth, flat stone and presented it to her with a flourish. "For you, mi amor. A diamond from the Rivera collection."
But he didn't push her into the water. He didn't try any daring physical feats. He just… walked. He held her hand, his thumb rubbing absent circles over her knuckles. He took the leash when Sherlock's relentless sniffing became too much for her, effortlessly controlling the powerful puppy with a gentle, "Easy, hijo, easy."
At one point, they sat on a large, sun-warmed rock, watching the waves crash. Sherlock, exhausted, flopped at their feet with a contented sigh, his head on Marco's shoe.
He looked over at her, his usual manic grin softened into something smaller, more genuine. "This is good, right?"
She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Yeah, Marco," she said, her voice quiet. "This is good."