Chapter 1: The Heat of the Moment

I’ve always been different from my family. Not in the obvious ways—I have the same dark hair, the same sharp features, the same curves that seem to draw attention whether I want it or not. My language skills are as fluent as theirs, slipping effortlessly between casual jokes and biting sarcasm. But where they find comfort in tradition, I feel suffocated. They thrive on gossip, family obligations, and the endless cycle of who’s getting married next? Or why aren’t you more like your sisters? Me? I spend my days dreaming of a life where I’m not constantly being told who I should be.

So, when my parents announced the six-hour drive from Monterrey to San Luis Potosí for my cousin Valeria’s wedding, I knew I was in for a miserable weekend. A cramped van, no privacy, unbearable heat, and the constant judgment of my family—my parents, my two older twin sisters, Valeria and Natalya, who are both a year older than me and still living at home. The van itself is a relic, probably older than I am. The vinyl seats stick to my skin like they’re trying to claim me, the air conditioning wheezes more than it cools, and the busted radio only seems to catch the frequencies of ranchero music my dad loves. The heat is relentless, the sun burning through the windows as if it has a personal vendetta against me. Sweat pools in places I don’t even want to think about, and the air feels thick, almost tangible, like I’m breathing through a wet towel.

I try to distract myself by scrolling through my phone, but after an hour, the battery dies. Just my luck. That’s when I pulled out the book. It’s not my usual kind of read. My best friend, Victoria Gomez, shoved it into my hands before the trip, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Maya, I swear, this book will change your life.”

The novel is Bare Essentials by Charlotte Stein and Matthew Quinn Martin—a steamy romance about letting go of inhibitions in a tropical paradise. The cover shows two silhouettes tangled together under a blazing sunset, the title scrawled in bold, sultry letters. I rolled my eyes when Victoria handed it to me. Romance isn’t my thing—especially not the kind with cheesy covers featuring half-naked men who look like they spend more time oiling their abs than living actual lives. But I’m desperate. So, I cracked it open.

And I get hooked.

The story is nothing like I expected. The characters are raw, alive, and full of emotions that make my chest tighten. The way the authors describe their passion, their hunger for each other—it’s intoxicating. It’s not just about sex; it’s about freedom. About desire without shame. The protagonist, a reserved woman named Lila, finds herself on a remote island, shedding her insecurities and embracing her deepest desires. Her journey mirrors my longing to break free from the expectations that have always weighed me down.

I feel the heat rise in my body, and not just from the sun. I shift in my seat, suddenly hyperaware of how trapped I feel. My tank top clings to my sweaty skin, my shorts feel suffocating, and every inch of fabric is another layer of discomfort. I feel like I’m suffocating.

Without thinking, I kick off my sandals. Then, with a glance around, I peel off my tank top, now soaked with sweat. The relief is immediate. The cool air against my skin is a revelation. Nobody seems to notice—my mom is dozing in the front seat, my sisters are still gossiping, and my dad is humming along to the radio. Emboldened, I unbutton my shorts and shimmy them down my legs. The cool air against my bare skin is heaven, like being in a tropical paradise.

I exhale, stretching out a little, letting myself relax for the first time all day. But the heat still clings to me, the sweat making everything sticky and unbearable. My bra straps dig into my shoulders, my underwear feels like an unnecessary barrier, and I can’t take it anymore. And at that moment, it doesn’t feel like a big deal. I reach behind me, unclasp my bra, and let it fall onto the seat beside me. My damp panties follow, dropping to the floor.

The sensation is pure freedom. I feel free, like Lila on the island. I barely even register that the van has gone silent. Not until Valeria’s voice cuts through the thick air.

“Maya, what are you doing?!”

I blink up at her, confused. “What?”

She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Around her, the rest of the family looks equally horrified. Natalya is fanning herself like she’s about to faint, and my dad has gone rigid, gripping the steering wheel like he’s trying to keep from crashing. Even my mom, who has just woken up, looks shocked.

“Maya,” Valeria hisses, “You’re naked!”

I shrug. “Yeah. So?”

Valeria’s face turns bright red as she snatches my clothes from the seat. “Get dressed. Right now.”

I sigh, stretching out even further. And in doing so, I accidentally give the van a very clear view of everything. Natalya screeches.

“Maya!” She clutches my clothes like they’re a lifeline. “If you don’t get dressed, I swear to God, I’ll throw these out the window!”

Everyone gasps, and Natalya makes the sign of the cross. I just go back to my book, flipping the page. “Go ahead.”

Valeria gawks at me. “You’re insane.”

Maybe. Or maybe I’m just done caring.

The wedding venue was a sprawling hacienda on the outskirts of San Luis Potosí, its whitewashed walls glowing under the late afternoon sun. Bougainvillea spilled over the arches, their vibrant pinks and purples contrasting with the deep green of the surrounding gardens. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of mariachi music. It was picturesque, the kind of place that made you believe in fairy tales—or at least in Instagram-worthy moments.

But as we stepped inside, the reality of the weekend hit me like a wave. The hacienda was packed with relatives I hadn’t seen in years, all of them eager to catch up on every detail of my life. “And you, Maya? Do you have a boyfriend?” “When are you getting married?” The questions came rapid-fire, each one a reminder of how little I fit into their expectations.

I forced a smile and mumbled vague answers, my mind still half in the world of Bare Essentials. Lila’s journey had sparked something in me—a longing to shed the layers of who I was supposed to be and embrace who I was. But here, surrounded by my family that felt impossible.

Valeria, of course, wasted no time spreading the news of my little stunt in the van. By the time we sat down for dinner, the story had already made its rounds. My aunts whispered behind their hands, casting furtive glances in my direction, while my little cousins giggled every time I reached for the salsa. Even my grandmother, who usually doted on me, gave me a stern look over her glasses. “Maya, what’s wrong with you? Are you going crazy?”

I shrugged it off, focusing on the plate of mole polao in front of me. The rich, complex flavors were a welcome distraction, but the heat of the chills only added to the fire already simmering inside me. I could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down, suffocating me just like the sticky vinyl seats in the van.

After dinner, I slipped away from the crowd, desperate for a moment of peace. The hacienda’s gardens were quiet, the only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. I found a secluded bench beneath a towering jacaranda tree and pulled out Bare Essentials. The book had become my escape, my lifeline.

As I read, I lost myself in Lila’s world. The tropical paradise she found herself in was a far cry from the stifling hacienda, but her journey felt eerily familiar. Like me, she was searching for freedom—freedom from her past, from her fears, from the expectations of others. And as she let go of her inhibitions, I felt myself yearning to do the same.

I was so engrossed in the story that I didn’t notice someone approaching until a voice broke the silence.

“What are you reading?”

I looked up to see my cousin Mateo standing a few feet away, a curious smile on his face. Mateo was one of the few relatives I liked. He was a few years older than me, with a laid-back attitude and a sharp sense of humor that always made me laugh. Unlike the rest of the family, he didn’t seem to care about tradition or appearances.

“A book,” I said, holding it up so he could see the cover.

Mateo raised an eyebrow. “Bare Essentials, huh? Sounds ... interesting.”

I laughed, feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s not what you think. Well, maybe it is. But it’s also about ... letting go. Being yourself, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

Mateo nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds like you could use a little of that.”

I sighed, leaning back against the bench. “You have no idea. This whole weekend is driving me crazy. Everyone’s so obsessed with appearances, with doing things the ‘right’ way. It’s exhausting.”

Mateo sat down beside me, his presence a comforting weight. “I get it. But you know, you don’t have to play by their rules. You can be yourself, even if it drives them crazy.”

I glanced at him, surprised by the understanding in his voice. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who got caught stripping in the van.”

Mateo burst out laughing, the sound warm and genuine. “Okay, I’ll give you that. But seriously, Maya, you’re not crazy. You’re just ... different. And that’s not a bad thing.”

His words lingered in the air, a balm to the frustration I’d been feeling all day. For the first time, I felt like someone truly understood me.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the stars beginning to twinkle overhead. The mariachi music had faded into the background, replaced by the soft chirping of crickets. It was peaceful, a rare moment of calm in the chaos of the weekend.

Eventually, Mateo stood up, stretching lazily. “I should get back before they send out a search party. But hey, if you need an escape, let me know. We can sneak out and find our tropical paradise.”

I smiled, feeling a flicker of hope. “Thanks, Mateo. I might take you up on that.”