The skatepark was a symphony of chaotic energy under the relentless California sun. The air thrummed with the rhythmic *clack-clack-clack* of skateboard wheels hitting concrete transitions and the occasional triumphant whoop. Alex stood awkwardly to the side, holding a borrowed skateboard like it was a potentially venomous animal.
"Just find your center of gravity, *mami*!" Marco called out, effortlessly rolling past her in a smooth arc. He'd been alternating between patient, if slightly chaotic, instruction and showing off with Malik and Javier.
"My center of gravity is currently telling me to stay on flat ground," Alex retorted, her feet stubbornly planted.
Marco laughed, kicking his board up into his hand. "Okay, watch this." He dropped the board back to the concrete with a sharp crack and pushed off, building speed toward a medium-sized quarter-pipe. He rode up the transition, kicked his board into a clean 180-degree ollie at the apex, and rolled back down fakie. It was smooth, practiced, and earned a nod of respect from Javier.
"See? Easy." He skated back to her, his grin infectious. "Your turn. Just try rolling in a straight line."
For the next half-hour, Alex practiced the most basic of basics. Pushing off, placing her feet, trying not to wobble. Marco would circle her, offering tips—"Bend your knees, not your back!"—before darting off to session a rail with his friends. It was a bizarrely domestic scene amidst the urban skate culture: the genius being patiently, if unorthodoxly, taught by the chaotic skater.
Then Marco got that look in his eye. The one that usually preceded him bringing a raccoon into the house.
"Aight, I'm gonna try it," he announced, staring at a series of interconnected ramps that formed a small spine.
"Try what?" Malik asked, stopping his own run.
"The tre-flip over the spine, into a 50-50 on the down rail."
Javier let out a low whistle. "You've been thinking about that for weeks, *loco*."
"Thinking's for nerds," Marco said, winking at Alex. "Doing's for legends."
He took a deep breath, pushed off with powerful strides, and built up serious speed. The first part was beautiful. He approached the spine, popped his board, and executed a perfect 360 flip. The board spun mesmerizingly beneath his feet as he soared over the gap. Alex actually held her breath, impressed despite herself.
He landed the trick cleanly on the other side. But he had too much speed. Instead of setting up for the grind on the rail, he was hurtling towards it.
"Oh sh—" was all he got out before his front truck clipped the top of the rail.
Physics took over. The board stopped dead. Marco did not.
He was launched forward, his body a flailing starfish, before he met the concrete with a sickening, full-body *SLAP* that echoed through the park. For a split second, there was silence. Then, a sound erupted from him—a high-pitched, wheezing "*Huuuuuuuuhhhhhhh…*" as every molecule of air was violently expelled from his lungs. It was the universal sound of a man who had just become intimately acquainted with the ground.
Alex's heart leaped into her throat. "MARCO!"
She dropped her board with a clatter and sprinted toward him. At the same time, Malik and Javier, who had been momentarily frozen, erupted.
"HAHAHA! OH MY GOD, DID YOU SEE HIS FACE?" Malik howled, doubling over.
"HE WENT FULL SUPERMAN!" Javier gasped, tears of laughter streaming down his face. "*¡Se fue a la chingada!*"
But their laughter was punctuated by genuine concern. Even as they clutched their stomachs, they were both running over to him.
Alex reached him first, dropping to her knees. Marco was curled on his side, his face a mask of pure, undiluted agony. He was still making that awful, gasping fish-out-of-water sound, unable to draw a breath.
"Marco! Can you breathe? Are you okay?" she asked, her voice tight with panic, her hands hovering over him, unsure where it was safe to touch.
He managed a weak, shaky thumbs-up, but his eyes were screwed shut in pain.
Malik and Javier skidded to a stop beside them, their laughter subsiding into breathless chuckles.
"You alive, man?" Javier asked, nudging Marco's leg with his foot.
Marco finally managed a ragged, sucking gasp of air, followed by a groan. "*Mi… espalda…*" he moaned. My back.
"You just got the wind knocked out of you, you big baby," Malik said, though he was now looking him over with a critical eye. "Anything feel broken?"
Marco slowly, painfully, rolled onto his back, wincing. He took a few more shuddering breaths. "Just… my pride." He opened his eyes and saw Alex's terrified face hovering above him. His pained expression softened into a weak smirk.
"See, *mami*?" he wheezed. "That's… what you call… a bad landing. Don't do that."
Alex let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and swatted his arm. "You're an idiot! A complete idiot!"
"Yeah," he agreed, groaning as he slowly sat up with Javier's help. "But I stuck the tre-flip, right?"
"You stuck the concrete," Malik corrected.
As Marco got shakily to his feet, brushing gravel from his jeans, Alex realized this was her life now.
———
The rain tapped a steady, soothing rhythm against Alex's bedroom window, a gray curtain obscuring the world outside. It was the kind of gloomy afternoon made for quiet companionship. Alex was lying on her stomach on the rug, highlighting a dense psychology textbook, while Marco lounged on her bed, scrolling through his phone, one leg dangling off the side.
A comfortable silence had settled between them, broken only by the scratch of her highlighter and the distant rumble of thunder.
It was a peace treaty Marco decided to unilaterally violate.
He didn't say a word. One moment he was on the bed, the next he had silently slid to the floor and pounced with the speed of a predator. His fingers found the sensitive spot just above her hips.
Alex shrieked, a short, shocked sound as her whole body jolted. "Marco! No!"
But it was too late. The dam had broken. He was a whirlwind of tickling, his fingers dancing mercilessly over her ribs, her stomach, the backs of her arms—anywhere he knew she was defenseless. Her textbook and highlighter went flying.
"Stop! STOP!" she gasped, thrashing beneath him, her laughter already becoming breathless and uncontrollable. She tried to push his hands away, to curl into a protective ball, but he was stronger and infinitely more determined.
"What's the matter, mami?" he teased, his voice a low, playful rumble near her ear as his fingers continued their relentless assault. "Can't handle it?"
"I—I can't—hahaha—breathe!" she wheezed, tears of mirth starting to sting her eyes. Her pleas were lost in gales of helpless laughter. This was a side of her no one else ever saw—completely unraveled, utterly at the mercy of his chaotic affection.
Driven by pure survival instinct, she managed to squirm out from under him and scramble toward her bedroom door on her hands and knees, her body still shaking with laughter. "I'm serious! Marco, I'm going to pee myself!" she cried, her voice pitched high with a mixture of panic and hilarity.
This only seemed to fuel him. He was on her in an instant, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and dragging her back from the door, his fingers finding the supremely sensitive spot on her sides again.
"No you won't! You're too much of a control freak to pee yourself!" he laughed, nuzzling her neck between attacks.
"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!" she shrieked, bucking in his grip. The threat felt dangerously real; the pressure in her bladder was mounting with every convulsive laugh. "PLEASE! HAHAHA! I SURRENDER! PLEASE!"
Her pleas were genuine now, a desperate edge to her laughter. Finally, sensing she was at her absolute limit, he relented. His attack slowed to a stop, his hands still resting on her waist as they both lay in a panting, disheveled heap on the floor.
Alex gasped for air, her chest heaving, her face flushed and wet with tears. She weakly swatted at his arm. "I hate you… so much."
He rolled her over to face him, his own face alight with a triumphant, tender grin. He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "No, you don't."
She was still catching her breath, her body tingling from the assault. The imminent crisis had passed, leaving her boneless and exhausted. She glared at him, but there was no heat in it. "You're a menace."
"Your menace," he corrected softly, and leaned in to kiss her, a slow, sweet counterpoint to the frantic chaos of moments before. As his lips met hers, Alex decided that maybe, just maybe, a little loss of control wasn't the worst thing in the world.