Chapter Ten: Melodies, Misfires, and Midnight Moments
There was a strange kind of quiet that came just before everything went wrong.
And Ryan Marquez, who had learned to detect patterns and subtle shifts in social environments with all the precision of an AI running a lie detector, felt that quiet humming in the air the moment Claire Dunphy pulled him aside on Friday afternoon and said:
"Ryan. I need you to help me book Izzy LaFontaine."
He blinked. "The… the keyboard guy from that one-hit-wonder band in the '80s?"
"Yes!" Claire clapped excitedly. "Phil loves him. 'Express Yourself'? It's like his theme song! I want to surprise him with a private backyard concert for our anniversary."
"That is… very ambitious."
"I already found his booking agent. But I need someone who can help me set up the audio equipment and lighting. Quietly. Subtly. Romantically."
Ryan stared at her.
"I build drone swarms and emotion-mapping software."
"And now you're going to build love, Ryan. I believe in you."
And with that, he was dragged into Operation: Nostalgic Mixtape Madness.
By Saturday morning, Ryan had enlisted the help of his dad, Carlos, who was an absolute wizard with power tools and portable lighting. Gabby contributed hand-drawn paper hearts taped to fairy lights. And Ryan? He did the sound check, the cable routing, and programmed a low-key mood-light color system using a borrowed Arduino board and some garden LEDs.
It was insane.
But somehow, it worked.
By 5 PM, Claire had managed to get Phil out of the house, Izzy LaFontaine's manager confirmed the private show, and the backyard looked like the cover of a vintage Hallmark card dipped in glitter and synth pop.
Alex showed up just before sunset, arms crossed, eyeing the transformation.
"Wow. You really leaned into the whole romantic cheeseball aesthetic."
Ryan, adjusting a light setting on his tablet, smiled. "It's not for me. I promise."
"Sure. Because you definitely don't own half those LED strips personally."
"I own them for practical reasons."
"Yeah, you're practically a Pinterest board."
She stepped beside him, watching the lights dim slowly to a warm pink hue.
"It's actually kind of… sweet," she said quietly.
He looked at her.
"Not that I care about this kind of stuff," she added quickly. "But… Phil does. He's a big softie. Claire rarely gets it right when it comes to surprises. She overplans."
"And you're worried she'll ruin it?"
"No," Alex sighed. "I'm worried she won't get the reaction she wants. And then she'll spiral, and we'll have another week of passive-aggressive cleaning."
Ryan chuckled. "So… damage control?"
She nodded. "Exactly."
A beat passed.
"You know," he said softly, "you're kind of sweet too."
Alex didn't look at him, but her cheeks flushed slightly.
"Maybe," she murmured. "But only for people who deserve it."
The concert began just after 7 PM.
Claire brought Phil out, blindfolded, to a small folding chair in the middle of the yard. Izzy LaFontaine stepped out of a side tent wearing neon pants and a purple jacket. Phil let out a shriek of joy so loud it startled the neighbors' cat off their roof.
It was ridiculous.
And perfect.
Izzy sang "Express Yourself" on a portable keyboard. Phil sang along with such emotional sincerity that Claire got teary-eyed. Luke tried to play the tambourine and hit himself in the face. Haley livestreamed the whole thing on Instagram with sarcastic commentary.
And Ryan?
Ryan watched it all from the shadows—beside Alex, who leaned slightly into him as the music played.
"You ever think about what your big gesture would be?" she asked, suddenly.
He glanced at her. "Gesture?"
"Yeah. If you liked someone. What would you do to show them?"
Ryan hesitated.
Then: "Honestly? I'd probably build them something. Something small. Personal. With a function no one else would ever need. But they would."
She considered that.
"I like that," she said softly. "That sounds… real."
He looked at her. "What about you?"
She was quiet for a moment.
Then: "I think I'd just… say it."
"No fireworks? No mixtapes?"
She shook her head. "No. Just… honesty."
Another pause. She turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Like now."
Ryan's breath caught.
"I like you, Ryan. Not because you're smart. Not because you're nice to my weird family. I like you because you're… you."
The music faded in the background.
He turned fully to face her.
"I like you too, Alex."
He reached for her hand again, but this time, she met him halfway.
And then—quietly, gently—Alex leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't loud.
But it was perfect.
Like finding the answer to a question you didn't know you'd been asking all along.
Later that night, after the music had died and Izzy had been paid in cash and homemade empanadas, Ryan sat back at his workbench in his room, listening to his heart still thumping like a kick drum.
Alpha pinged.
ALPHA: "Critical emotional development detected. Shall I initiate Phase III?"
Ryan grinned. "No. Let's stop tracking it."
ALPHA: "Why?"
"Because this one… I just want to feel."
He powered the screen off, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.
From the outside, he was a genius.
A reincarnated prodigy with Tony Stark's mind.
But inside?
He was just a teenager.
Falling in love with a girl who could match him word for word—and heart for heart.
And that?
That was the most unpredictable, wonderful code of all.