Chapter Three

Daya leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "What's with you?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Maritza shrugged, her gaze drifting to the floor. "Nothing," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daya raised an eyebrow, a grin widening on her face. "You miss your girlfriend?" The words hung in the air, and Maritza's cheeks flamed crimson, a telltale sign that made Daya chuckle.

"Flaca's not my girlfriend, but yeah, I miss her," Maritza confessed, her voice trembling slightly as she peered at Daya through her lashes.

Daya laughed, her lightheartedness cutting through the tension. "How could you miss her? You spend literally all your time together."

Maritza's brow furrowed as she crossed her arms defensively. "Don't you want to be around the gringo all the time?" she shot back, a hint of challenge in her tone.

Daya rolled her eyes, the laughter fading slightly. "I don't want to be around John that much," she replied, a playful shrug underscoring her words.

Maritza sighed, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I don't know. I just love being around Flaca all the time." Her voice softened, a wistfulness creeping in.

"You got it bad," Daya teased, nudging her friend playfully. "Are you ever going to tell her how you feel?"

Maritza's shoulders slumped slightly, her gaze dropping again. "What good will that do? She's in love with Ian," she murmured, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging heavily between them. Daya's expression softened, understanding washing over her. "Either way, I'm not who Flaca wants," Maritza added, the resignation in her voice echoing the unfulfilled longing in her heart.

Flaca stood in front of Maritza's mirror, the vibrant red and sleek black dresses draped over her arms. She tilted her head, her brow furrowing in concentration as she scrutinized her reflection. "So, which one?" She lifted the red dress, letting it sway gently, its fabric shimmering like a siren's call.

Maritza leaned closer, her fingers tapping her chin in thought. "I'd go with the black," she suggested, a smile creeping onto her lips. "You can always save the red for another date."

Flaca let out a dreamy sigh, her eyes drifting from the mirror to the dresses. "Yeah, you're right," she mumbled, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. With a swift motion, she pulled her top over her head as she tossed it aside.

Maritza's eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. "Geez, give a girl a warning, would you?" she exclaimed, turning her gaze to the wall, a playful grin betraying her embarrassment.

Flaca shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's nothing you haven't seen before," she quipped, winking as she slipped into the black dress, the fabric clinging perfectly to her curves, ready for whatever adventures awaited. "How do I look?" Flaca asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned to face Maritza, her eyes wide and searching for reassurance.

Maritza's gaze pierced through the mirror's reflection, taking in Flaca's eager expression, the way her hair framed her face in soft waves. "Beautiful," Maritza replied, her words flowing like honey, warming the space between them.

"I'm nervous," Flaca admitted, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"I know," Maritza replied, her tone soothing, almost melodic. "But trust me, you're going to have a great time and create magical moments."

Flaca's eyes sparkled with uncertainty. "You really think so?"

"I do," Maritza affirmed, her confidence wrapping around Flaca like a warm embrace.

Flaca's excitement was palpable as she reached for her eyeliner, but in a moment of clumsiness, she felt the sharp sting of the pencil poke her eye.

"Need help?" Maritza offered a chuckle escaping her as she watched Flaca's eyes water.

"Yes, please," Flaca sighed, a mix of embarrassment and determination coloring her cheeks.

"Look up," Maritza instructed gently, her fingers steady and assured. As Maritza carefully glided the eyeliner along Flaca's eyelid, her fingers brushed gently against Flaca's cheek. Flaca tilted her head back, the tension in her shoulders easing as she followed the guidance.

The air was thick with an unspoken energy, each stroke of the pencil drawing them closer, their eyes locking in the mirror's reflection. Flaca's breath hitched as Maritza applied the deep crimson lipstick, the vibrant color contrasting against Flaca's soft lips. With each application, the intimacy of the moment enveloped them, silence hanging like a charged current as Maritza's gaze lingered just a moment too long. Their shared glances spoke volumes, as if the world around them faded, leaving only the warmth of their connection and the whisper of possibility in the air.

Maritza gazed into the mirror, her fingers deftly applying the last touches of makeup to Flaca's flawless complexion. As the colors blended perfectly, she could not help but smile at her handiwork. "I do good work," she remarked, her pride swelling as she admired the transformation in front of her.

"Almost like you do make up for a living," Flaca remarked dryly, her reflection caught midway through a playful smirk. "Thanks, Mari."

Maritza beamed at the compliment, warmth flooding her chest. "You're welcome," she replied, her voice laced with sincerity. Flaca glanced at the clock, a hint of reluctance in her eyes. "I should get going." "Why don't you have Ian pick you up here?" Maritza suggested, her heart tugging at the thought of the taller girl leaving.

"Ok, I'll give Ian a call."

Sometime later, a firm knock echoed from Maritza's door. "Hello, Marisol," Ian greeted, stepping inside with a charming smile. He held out a radiant bouquet of roses, the petals a vivid splash of color against the muted backdrop of the apartment.

"They're beautiful," Flaca said, her eyes sparkling as she accepted the flowers.

"Let me put this in a vase," Maritza chimed in, moving to take the blooms. Yet, just as she turned, Flaca's hand gently clasped her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

"This is my best friend, Maritza Ramos," Flaca introduced proudly, her tone warm as she gestured towards her. "Maritza, this is my date, Ian Callahan."

"Nice to meet you," Ian said, his grip firm yet friendly as he shook Maritza's hand.

"Same here," Maritza replied, a hint of reluctance creeping into her voice as she released his hand. "Bring her back by 11," Maritza joked, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Huh?" Ian blinked, momentarily thrown off by the playful jab.

"She's kidding," Flaca interjected with an affectionate eye roll, a smile tugging at her lips. As Flaca and Ian stepped out of Maritza's apartment, the door clicked softly behind them. Maritza let out a gentle sigh, her gaze lingering on the spot where Flaca had stood, a mix of longing and contentment swirling within her. Her heart whispered for more moments like these, filled with laughter and warmth, where the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them.