Chapter 2: The Poolside Interlude
The sun was unforgiving, a white-hot disc hammering down on the community pool with relentless intensity. The air smelled of chlorine and coconut sunscreen, the two scents mingling into the universal perfume of summer. Children shrieked in the shallow end, their plastic floats bobbing on the turquoise surface, while clusters of teenagers lounged on frayed plastic chairs, their skin glistening with oil and sweat and the careless confidence of youth.
Jimena sat at the edge of the pool, her legs dangling in the water, watching the light fracture and dance across the surface. The heat was oppressive, but she didn't mind. There was something soothing about it, the way it wrapped around her like a blanket, lulling her into a lazy, half-aware state where nothing seemed urgent. Her mind drifted, uninvited, to the sleepover two nights ago. To Marcos's hands on her chest. To the way her body had responded, arching into his touch like a plant seeking sun.
She shook her head, banishing the memory. It was a game. Just a game. He was gay, and she had a boyfriend, and it meant nothing.
"You're zoning out again." Patricia's voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and amused. She was stretched out on a towel beside Jimena, her dark hair fanned around her face like a halo of ink. Chanel sunglasses perched on her nose, reflecting Jimena's own image back at her, warped and distorted. "What's on your mind?"
"Nothing," Jimena said, maybe too quickly. "Just hot. That's all."
Patricia smirked, propping herself up on her elbows. "Uh-huh. Sure. Anyway, I'm getting bored. We've been here for an hour and all you've done is splash your feet."
"I'm relaxing. That's the point of a pool day."
"Relaxing is boring." Patricia sat up fully, scanning the pool area with the calculating gaze of a predator surveying its territory. Her eyes landed on something near the entrance, and her smile widened. "Well, well. Look who decided to crash our girls' day."
Jimena followed her gaze. Marcos was walking toward them, a towel slung over his shoulder and a cooler in his hand. He wore swim trunks—black, fitted, the kind that left little to the imagination—and his torso was lean and toned, the muscles of his shoulders catching the sunlight. His dark hair was tousled, still wet from a recent swim or maybe just styled that way, and he moved with a casual ease that made him look like he belonged here, in this heat, in this light.
"Marcos!" Jimena called out, waving. "What are you doing here?"
He grinned, that familiar sly expression that always made her laugh. "Patricia texted me. Said you two were dying of boredom and needed a third to spice things up." He dropped his towel on the chair beside them, his eyes lingering on Jimena for a moment longer than necessary. "Also, I brought snacks. So you're welcome."
Marcos dropped the cooler on the ground and sat down on the edge of the pool, planting his feet on either side of Jimena's. He was close, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of his sunscreen, something woodsy and warm. Her heart did a small, stupid flip.
"Did you invite him?" Jimena asked Patricia, trying to sound casual.
"Maybe." Patricia shrugged, the picture of innocence. "I figured we could use some entertainment. The boys here are all, like, twelve or super creepy. Marcos is the only non-weird option."
"Gee, thanks," Marcos said dryly. He nudged Jimena's shoulder with his own. "You okay? You look a little flushed."
"It's literally a hundred degrees, Marcos. Everyone looks flushed."
"Fair point." He grinned, and something flickered in his eyes—something she couldn't quite name. "So, what are we doing? Sitting here roasting like vegetables?"
Patricia leaned forward, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial register. "I was thinking we could play a game. Something to cool us down."
"What kind of game?" Jimena asked, suspicious. The last game Patricia had suggested had ended with Marcos's hands down her shirt and a lingering heat she couldn't explain.
"Chicken fight." Patricia gestured toward the deeper end of the pool, where the water darkened to a deep, inviting blue. "You and Marcos against me and... whoever we can drag into this. Winner gets bragging rights and the first round of drinks at the taco place later."
"Chicken fight?" Jimena wrinkled her nose. "That's, like, a kids' game."
"It's fun. And Marcos is strong enough to hold you. Right, Marcos?"
Marcos looked at Jimena, his head tilting slightly. "I mean, she's not exactly heavy. No offense."
"None taken, I guess." Jimena laughed, but there was a flutter in her chest. She thought about Marcos climbing onto her shoulders, his legs wrapped around her neck, his body pressed against hers. The image was unsettling and exciting in equal measure, two competing forces pulling her in opposite directions.
"Come on," Patricia said, already standing and pulling her cover-up over her head. "It'll be fun. And if you win, I'll buy you that ridiculous peach smoothie you like."
"You know I can't say no to that," Jimena muttered, getting to her feet.
The water was a shock of cold against her skin, stealing her breath as she waded deeper. The pool floor sloped away beneath her feet, and soon she was treading water, her arms moving in slow, lazy circles. Marcos swam up beside her, his movements effortless, his body cutting through the water with a fluidity that seemed almost practiced.
"Alright," Patricia said, treading water a few feet away. She'd recruited some random guy from the pool—a lanky teenager with sunburned shoulders who seemed thrilled to be included. "Rules are simple. Whoever knocks the other team off first wins. No biting, no hair pulling, no drowning. Anything else goes."
"Anything else goes?" Jimena echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"It's a game, Jimena. Loosen up."
Marcos swam behind her, and she felt his hands settle on her waist. The touch sent a jolt through her, electric and unexpected. "You ready?" he asked, his voice low in her ear.
"Born ready," she said, her voice steady despite the jump in her pulse.
"Okay, climb on."
She hesitated for half a second, then reached for the edge of the pool and hoisted herself up. She felt Marcos's hands on her thighs, guiding her, and then she was settling onto his shoulders, the coarse fabric of his swim trunks scratching against her bare skin. His head was nestled between her thighs, his shoulders pressed against the inside of her legs, and his hands found their place on her calves, steadying her.
"This is weird," she said, giggling nervously.
"You're telling me," Marcos replied, but his voice was strained, almost tight. He shifted beneath her, adjusting his grip, and she felt the heat of his breath against her inner thigh.
Across from them, Patricia had mounted her partner with practiced ease, her legs locked around his neck, her sharp grin visible even from this distance. "You two ready to lose?"
"Never," Jimena shot back, squeezing her legs around Marcos's head in a way that she hoped was confident.
The fight was chaos from the start. Patricia lunged at Jimena, grabbing her wrists and trying to unbalance her, and Jimena shrieked, clutching Marcos's head for balance. Her fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tightly, and she felt his hands tighten on her legs, bracing her as he lunged forward.
Water splashed around them, a frenzy of limbs and laughter. Jimena grabbed at Patricia's arms, pushing back, and for a moment she felt like she was winning, like she had the upper hand. Then Patricia shoved harder, and Jimena wobbled, her weight shifting precariously.
"I got you," Marcos grunted, his hands sliding up her thighs to steady her.
His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her legs, just below the hem of her bikini bottom. The touch was firm, almost possessive, and Jimena felt a flush spread through her that had nothing to do with the sun.
"Easy," she breathed, her thighs clamping around his head involuntarily.
Patricia lunged again, and this time Marcos surged forward to meet her, his movements powered by raw strength. The sunburned guy stumbled, Patricia yelped, and then they were tumbling sideways, hitting the water with a splash that sent droplets spraying across Jimena's face.
"Victory!" Marcos shouted, his hands raising in triumph. Jimena laughed, her body shaking with the force of it, and she felt his grip shift again, his palms moving from her thighs to settle on her hips.
"Best two out of three?" Patricia sputtered, surfacing with her hair plastered to her face.
"Nope. We're champions. Accept it." Marcos started wading toward the shallow end, and Jimena had no choice but to hold on. His hands moved with a casual confidence, adjusting her position, and she felt his fingers brush against the curve of her ass, a touch so brief she might have imagined it.
But she didn't imagine it. She knew she didn't.
"Okay, you can put me down," she said, her voice breathy. "We're in the shallow end now."
"Right. Sorry." Marcos crouched, letting her slide off his shoulders. But his hands stayed on her waist, steadying her, and for a long moment they stood chest to chest, water lapping at their hips. She could feel the heat of him through the cool water, could see the way his chest rose and fell with the effort of their game.
"Thanks," she said, her voice smaller than she intended.
"Anytime."
There was something in his eyes she couldn't read. Something dark and deep and waiting. Her breath caught, and she took a step back, creating space between them.
"I'm gonna get a drink," she said, turning away. "You guys want anything?"
"Water," Patricia said, already swimming toward her. She emerged beside Marcos, water streaming off her athletic frame, and shot him a look—quick, loaded, significant. "Good game, by the way."
Marcos shrugged. "It was fun."
"Making progress, I'd say," Patricia said, her voice dropping to a murmur that Jimena, already climbing out of the pool, couldn't hear.
Marcos watched Jimena walk away, the curve of her hips visible even through the thick fabric of her towel. His tongue touched his lower lip, tasting the chlorine and the faint sweetness of her skin. "Progress," he repeated, the word feeling good in his mouth. "Yeah. Definitely."