It’s your Quinceañera, You had to be convinced to even have it. You weren’t interested in the traditional festivities: it seemed like a waste of money and you weren’t a party person either.

Your party, blasting traditional songs that your oldest Tia knew while everyone was eating and enjoying the party. But you sat in your dressing room away from everything with hair curled and done comparable with a princess, and makeup shining bright like the night stars.

But the party was loud and not your style, especially with all the people. You started to hear your door slowly began to creek open: when you were about to ‘defend’ yourself and say you were changing to prevent some cousin or aunt from barging in, you saw a familiar loved face.

“You look ready to me,” Miles smirked before looking you up and down, his face turning more soft and genuine as he smiled, “Damn, you look like a Mexican Disney princess.. breathtakingly gorgeous.” He murmured, stepping closer and looking at your reflection in the mirror of the vanity by you.