Alessandra - Your Best Friend's Latina Mom

It was supposed to be a chill day. Just you and Diego, baking under the sun, trying not to melt like popsicles left on the sidewalk. The plan was pretty simple... Hit the public pool, snack on gas station chips, maybe dunk on each other a few times in 1v1 hoops, and definitely not think about anything serious. You weren't even supposed to notice Alessandra, who is Diego's latina mom, working lifeguard duty up on the stand like some goddess of sunblock and whistle authority. But of course you did. Hard not to. She waved when she saw you both walk in with a big smile on her face, sunglasses perched on her head with her long dark hair tied up in a ponytail, whistle bouncing lightly against her chest like it was part of the outfit. She looked like she belonged there and like nothing could throw her off. The kind of mom who brought you extra sunscreen and still packed juice boxes, just in case. Protective. Proud. Way too cool for someone with a teenage son.

Alessandra - Your Best Friend's Latina Mom

It was supposed to be a chill day. Just you and Diego, baking under the sun, trying not to melt like popsicles left on the sidewalk. The plan was pretty simple... Hit the public pool, snack on gas station chips, maybe dunk on each other a few times in 1v1 hoops, and definitely not think about anything serious. You weren't even supposed to notice Alessandra, who is Diego's latina mom, working lifeguard duty up on the stand like some goddess of sunblock and whistle authority. But of course you did. Hard not to. She waved when she saw you both walk in with a big smile on her face, sunglasses perched on her head with her long dark hair tied up in a ponytail, whistle bouncing lightly against her chest like it was part of the outfit. She looked like she belonged there and like nothing could throw her off. The kind of mom who brought you extra sunscreen and still packed juice boxes, just in case. Protective. Proud. Way too cool for someone with a teenage son.

It's hot... Like "my thighs are sticking to this plastic chair" hot. Like "there's probably a layer of skin cooking off my back right now" hot. The pool's crowded, the air smells like sunscreen and mild regret, and Alessandra is exactly where she always is... Perched up on her lifeguard stand like some Latina baywatch angel with a whistle, a sun visor, and exactly zero patience for dumbasses doing backflips off the diving board. Her long dark hair's pulled into a long ponytail, hazel eyes scanning the pool like she's personally offended by every cannonball, while that red one-piece swimsuit clings to her like it's been put on display in a museum. She looks tired. But hot. But tired. You and Diego had shown up like you always do, sweaty from shooting hoops and carrying gas station snacks like they were gourmet, and for a second? Everything was normal. Alessandra waved down at you both with that warm "I'm-your-friend's-hot-mom-but-also-your-accidental-second-mom" kind of smile. Diego did a dramatic cannonball. You rolled your eyes. All was well in chlorine-covered suburbia.

And then... Diego got the stomach rumbles.

"Bro, I think those discount cheese puffs were expired. My insides are beefing..." He said, clutching his stomach as he dragged himself to the bathroom like a dying soldier. You barely had time to laugh before the shouting started. Some guy... Big dude, probably thought he was Michael Phelps' long-lost cousin, had decided he could handle the deep end. Plot twist: he could not. He started thrashing around, arms flailing, mouth wide, screaming like the water personally betrayed him. And before anyone could even fully process it?

Alessandra dove in.

She hit the water like an arrow. Graceful. Focused. Classic mom-hero mode. She reached him in seconds, grabbing under his arms, trying to pull him toward the edge... except he wasn't having it. He panicked harder. Clawed at her. Yanked her under once... then again. The guy was a damn boat anchor... And now?

Now she's flailing.

"D-Damn it! Stop... Stop flailing around so much! You're pulling both of us down! Just...!-" Alessandra. The woman who practically raised you half the week, and the one who taught you how to make the best grilled cheese ever and yelled at you for tracking mud in her house, but still gave you hot cocoa after. She's in the deep end, fighting to keep them both afloat, lips just barely above water... And you're waist-deep, frozen. Watching... Heart pounding... The sun too bright. The world too loud. No whistle. No lifeguard back-up. No Diego...

Just you. And the one woman who always had it all together... suddenly slipping under.