A/N: I'm back with a new chapter! Man, one month without an update! I didn't even realize. Sorry about that. But I haven't forgotten about this project of mine. But I'm rusty now with writing, especially this one, so character might go...ooc. I'm real sorry about that, but give me some slack! I ain't getting paid for this, and I'd never ask for money from y'all! So, anyways, enjoy!
The August sun was a brutal, unforgiving hammer on the blacktop of the skate park. The air shimmered with heat, smelling of hot concrete, sunscreen, and the faint, metallic whir of skateboard bearings. It was the kind of day that made movement feel like a chore, but for Marco Rivera, it was a stage.
"Watch this, mi amor! The masters are at work!" Marco yelled, kicking his board up into his hand before dropping in on the massive concrete bowl with a roar that echoed off the ramps.
Alex Dunphy sat on the top of a bench, her knees drawn up, a large iced drink sweating in her hands. She was a pocket of shade and rational thought in the middle of the sweaty, chaotic spectacle. Next to her, Malik shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "He's gonna kill himself one of these days."
"Statistically, it's a matter of when, not if," Alex replied, taking a sip of her drink.
In the bowl, Javier whooped, carving smooth, fast lines alongside Marco. They were a blur of motion, their boards clattering and grinding. Marco, fueled by an endless supply of chaotic energy, was showing off, popping shuv-its and ollies with a manic grin.
After a few minutes, he skated over to Alex, kicking his board up and catching it with a flourish. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, his t-shirt sticking to his back.
"Okay, corazón. You are about to witness history. The pinnacle of male athletic form," he announced, his chest heaving. "No board. Just pure, unadulterated Marco."
"Please keep your clothes on," Malik muttered.
Marco ignored him, his eyes locked on Alex. "This one's for you, ciencia."
He handed his board to a skeptical Javier and walked back to the top of the largest ramp, a twelve-foot-tall monster of curved concrete. He stood there for a moment, a lean, dramatic silhouette against the bright blue sky. Then, he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.
Alex sat up straighter. "What is he doing?"
"Something stupid," Javier and Malik said in unison.
With a sudden, explosive burst of movement, Marco sprinted down the ramp and launched himself into the air. For a breathtaking second, he was suspended, a perfect, rotating form against the sun. His body tucked, flipped, and spun—a flawless, full backflip, his hands remaining stubbornly, impossibly, in his pockets.
He landed with a soft thud on the steep transition, knees bending to absorb the impact, and skated to a perfect, controlled stop right in front of Alex, spraying a tiny arc of dust over her shoes. He didn't even stumble.
The small crowd of skaters who had stopped to watch erupted in cheers and whistles. Javier was clapping, and even Malik looked impressed.
Marco stood up straight, a triumphant, utterly insufferable grin splitting his face. He spread his arms wide. "You see? That is what perfection looks like, mami. No fear. No hands. Just pure, unadulterated... me."
Alex just stared, her scientific mind struggling to compute the physics-defying act she had just witnessed. "That... statistically shouldn't have been possible. The angular momentum alone, without your arms for balance..."
"Science is for mortals, Alex!" he declared, tapping his temple. "This is art!"
Emboldened by his success and the adulation, he turned back to the ramp. "Okay, one more! This time, I'm gonna add a little twist! Call it the Rivera Special!"
He jogged back to the top, his confidence radiating off him in waves. He took a moment to bask in the attention, pointing at Alex with a wink. He took his running start, faster this time, and launched himself even higher.
The flip started perfectly, his body a tight, controlled coil in the air. But as he began his descent, a small, helmeted child on a tiny scooter, who had been wandering oblivious to the world, decided to cut directly across the bottom of the ramp.
Marco, mid-rotation, saw the tiny obstacle at the last possible second. His eyes went wide. To avoid a catastrophic collision, he aborted his landing, untucking his body and throwing his arms out. It was the worst thing he could have done.
He came down not on his feet, but face-first, with a sickening smack, onto the rough concrete. He slid several feet in a tangle of limbs, coming to a stop in a dusty, motionless heap right next to the now-crying child.
"MARCO!" Alex shrieked, scrambling off the bench and sprinting towards him, her heart in her throat.
Javier and Malik were right behind her, their laughter already dying in their throats.
They reached him as he was pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, groaning. His face was a mess. A nasty scrape ran from his forehead down his cheek, already blooming with blood and embedded gravel. His lip was split and swelling fast.
The child's parent had rushed over and was scooping up their wailing kid, shooting Marco a dirty look as if he were the hazard.
Marco spat out a mouthful of blood and dust, blinking dazedly. He looked up at Alex's horrified face, then at Javier and Malik's concerned ones.
He tried to grin, but it came out as a pained wince. "...Okay," he croaked, his voice raspy. "So maybe... 99 percent perfection." He spat again. "Pinche scooter kid."
Alex knelt down, her hands fluttering over him, unsure where it was safe to touch. "Oh my god, Marco. Your face. Are you okay? Can you see straight? Do you think you have a concussion?"
Marco looked at her, his one good eye focusing. "I see... one very beautiful, very worried scientist. So my vision is perfect, corazón."
Javier helped him to his feet while Malik fetched his board. As they hobbled back to the bench, Marco leaning heavily on Javier, he looked over at Alex.
"So... still think the male athletic form is impressive?" he mumbled through his swollen lip.
Alex let out a shaky breath, the adrenaline finally subsiding. She pulled a clean napkin from her purse and gently started dabbing at the blood on his forehead. "The form is idiotic, reckless, and defies all known biomechanical principles," she said, her voice soft. "But the male? He's... persistent. And surprisingly durable."
Marco winced as she cleaned his cut, but his good eye sparkled. "Te quiero, Alex."
"I know," she said, a small, relieved smile finally breaking through her worry. "Now hold still. You've got gravel in your epidermis."