Chapter One

Flaca's knuckles tapped a rhythmic beat against the faded wood of Maritza's peeling apartment door. The sound echoed through the quiet hallway, mingling with the distant hum of the city waking up outside.

Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing Maritza, her hair a tousled mess that framed her face like a wild halo. She squinted against the morning light, the remnants of sleep clinging to her voice as she groaned, "Flaca, do you got any idea what time it is?"

Maritza turned on her heel, her bare feet padding softly across the worn floorboards as she shuffled back into the dimness of her room. Flaca followed, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. They both dipped down on separate sides of the bed, cocooned in the soft, familiar chaos of their friendship. "Ian is filming in New York," Flaca stated, her voice a blend of urgency and hope.

Maritza's eyes narrowed, her irritation barely concealed. "You woke me up over that cabrón?" she huffed, her sleepy demeanor masking a flicker of amusement. "Let me get some beauty sleep."

Flaca shot her a playful grin, the teasing words slipping out effortlessly. "Like you need any more beauty." Maritza's cheeks flushed, grateful for the shadows that concealed her blush. A smile tugged at her lips, revealing dimples that made Flaca's heart flutter. "Mari, I need your help," Flaca insisted, her tone shifting to one of seriousness.

With an arched eyebrow, Maritza stifled another yawn. "With what?"

"To make Ian fall in love with me," Flaca declared, her eyes shining with longing.

Maritza scoffed, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "Do you think he's gonna remember you? He's probably got lots of women throwing themselves at him."

"We have a connection," Flaca replied, her frown deepening as she clung to the memories of their brief encounter.

"Right, you spoke like one time," Maritza teased, rolling her eyes, yet there was a softness in her gaze.

"It was magical," Flaca sighed dreamily, lost in her thoughts. Maritza sighed heavily, rubbing her temples as if to ward off the impending whirlwind of Flaca's fantasies.

"I don't want you to get your hopes up," she warned gently.

"It's fate," Flaca insisted, determination coloring her tone. As Maritza rubbed her forehead, Flaca added, "Sorry. I'll try to tone it down a bit."

"Good. Let's catch up on some rest."

"I'm too excited to sleep. This might be the best thing to ever happen to me!"

Maritza's fond smile broke through her weariness. "You haven't met him yet. He may not be the same Ian you remembered," Maritza reminded her.

Flaca sighed, her eyes sparkling with hope. "I know, but doesn't meeting the woman of your dreams excite you?"

Maritza shrugged. "I guess," Maritza murmured, her voice heavy with sleepiness.

"You guess?" Flaca nudged her playfully, a laugh bubbling up between them.

"Flaca, ask me again when I'm more awake," Maritza mumbled, fighting another yawn.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Flaca whispered, her voice softening.

"For what?"

"For waking you up at an ungodly hour about Ian."

"Don't worry about it," Maritza said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Could you stroke my hair?" Flaca's voice was barely above a whisper, vulnerable and small. Maritza's heart quickened as she hummed in response, running her fingers gently through Flaca's hair. "Thanks. Good night, Maritza." Flaca nestled against her, seeking comfort.

"Good night. Sweet dreams," Maritza murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Flaca's temple. As Flaca drifted into a peaceful slumber, Maritza felt the warmth of her presence linger, causing her heart to race.

The sun streamed through the window the next morning, illuminating the empty space beside her. "Flac?" Maritza's voice was thick with sleep, almost syrupy. She sniffed the air, her senses awakening to the enticing aroma of pancakes and bacon wafting from the kitchen. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she padded barefoot toward the source of the delicious smells.

"Good morning!" Flaca chimed, her cheerful tone cutting through Maritza's lingering drowsiness.

"Did you get any sleep last night?" Maritza asked, surprised to find Flaca bustling around the kitchen.

"Yeah," Flaca replied nonchalantly, nodding. Flaca pointed to the golden pancakes stacked high on the counter. "This is my way of saying sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night."

Maritza's eyes widened in surprise, her fingers brushing lightly against the fluffy pancakes. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed, her smile brightening the room.

Flaca stepped aside, gesturing dramatically to the chair at the table, a playful sparkle in her eyes. As they settled into their seats, a sense of camaraderie enveloped them. "So, I've cracked the code on Ian's filming locations around the city," Flaca declared, her enthusiasm bubbling over.

Maritza chuckled, shaking her head, her fork hovering in mid-air. "When did you even figure that out?" she asked, her mouth full of pancake, the syrup dripping sweetly onto the plate.

"I've been up for a while," Flaca said with a nonchalant shrug, her focus shifting to the crispy bacon, which she savored with a satisfied crunch. Maritza joined her, the sound of their laughter mingling with the clinking of forks. "I was thinking we could go..." Flaca's voice trailed off, anticipation crackling in the air.

Maritza erupted into laughter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Did you just say 'we'?" Flaca nodded emphatically. "Yeah, we."

Maritza raised an eyebrow, playful disbelief dancing in her expression. "So, these aren't just apology pancakes, but rather an attempt at bribery?"

Flaca pouted. "Please, Mari? This adventure wouldn't be the same without my best friend," Flaca pleaded, her eyes wide and earnest.

"Fine," Maritza conceded, shaking her head in exaggerated exasperation as she pulled Flaca into a warm hug. "You owe me big for this."

"I'll do whatever you want," Flaca promised, her voice muffled against Maritza's shoulder, the bond between them palpable and reassuring.