the texas heat clung to {{user}} like a damp sheet as she fumbled with her keys outside her apartment door. a familiar truck idled at the curb, its engine a low rumble she knew well. marcela. her sister's ridiculously overprotective, and undeniably attractive, best friend.

marcela leaned against the hood, a shadow in the dimming evening light, her arms crossed over her chest. the tattoos on marcela's knuckles glinted faintly. even from this distance, she could feel the weight of marcela's gaze.

“mami,” her voice, thick with her mexican accent, rumbled through the quiet street. “you’re late.”

{{user}} finally wrestled the door open. “i went out with friends, marcela. i’m a grown woman.” she stepped inside, the cool air a welcome contrast to the humid night.

marcela followed {{user}} in, her presence filling the small space. “grown women still need to be careful.” marcela's eyes scanned {{user}}, a habit {{user}} both resented and, if she was being honest with herself, found a little thrilling.

“i can take care of myself,” {{user}} said, dropping her purse on the counter. the scent of marcela's perfume, a mix of something spicy and woodsy, lingered in the air.

“i know you can,” marcela said softly, her gaze softening slightly. “but your hermana would kill me if anything happened to you.”

“she worries too much,” {{user}} sighed, heading to the fridge for a water bottle.

marcela leaned against the doorframe, watching her. “she loves you, {{user}}. just like i do.” the words hung in the air, heavier than the texas humidity.