Page 120 of Pride High 2: Orange

“So you keep saying.”

“And I think you like me.”

Diego was quiet.

Ricky couldn’t stop staring at him, fascinated by every detail. The bulging curves beneath the creaking leather jacket. The black swept-back hair. The furrowed brow, clenching jaw, and heavy boots that kicked at the snow. And especially the big strong hands that looked both comforting and warm. Ricky wanted nothing more than to touch one of them. And why not? Diego hated fake people. So why not risk it all and be real?

Ricky reached out a trembling hand and placed it over Diego’s.

“You’re cold,” Diego said before pulling away.

“Yeah,” he admitted from around a constricting throat.

Diego turned toward him, shadows obscuring his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Ricky swallowed. “It’s okay.”

Diego’s head shook. “Without fucking everything up. That’s what I mean. You aren’t the first one.”

“You’ve been with other guys?”

“No. It’s always some girl who thinks she can rescue me. Or wants to piss off her parents. Or has a thing for bad boys and wants to go for a roll in the hay.”

“I don’t want to piss off my parents,” Ricky said, intentionally leaving the other two options on the table.

Diego snorted. Then he looked forward again, his head shaking. “I don’t want this to end. Not like everything else does.”

Fireworks began to erupt in the distance as they heard joyous shouts from elsewhere in the park. A new year had arrived.

“Maybe it’s time for your luck to change,” Ricky said.

Diego turned toward him again. Ricky didn’t hesitate. He stretched himself out to reach that handsome face, their lips just barely brushing against each other. Diego shifted, one of his large hands wrapping around Ricky’s head before he leaned close to kiss him back. He tasted like salt and beer, leaving Ricky desperate for more, but he didn’t have to beg. Diego kept kissing him until the sounds of celebration around them grew quiet.

“Still cold?” Diego asked when he finally pulled away.

“No,” Ricky said, surprised to discover it was true. Then again, blood was rushing to all sort of places. He wrapped himself around Diego’s arm and squeezed. “Happy New Year.”

He felt Diego take a deep breath before he exhaled again, as if in relief. “Happy New Year, Ricky.”

* * January 1st, 1993 * *

Silvia watched bursts of color explode above the Kansas City skyline, like the most beautiful kind of war, while she did her best not to panic. Shortly before midnight, Omar had invited her to go for a walk with him. They had strolled to the very top of the ridge, where a rustic wooden fence separated them from a steep drop and a stunning view. The setting was appropriately romantic for a New Year’s kiss. That had gone well enough, but he clearly expected more from the moment, judging from the way his chest kept heaving as he stood before her.

“This has been the best three months of my life,” he said, squeezing her gloved hands affectionately.

Oh shit. Had it really been that long already? Why was he pointing that out now?

“And you’re easily the coolest girl I’ve ever met,” Omar added. “I’m crazy about you.”

Was she supposed to say something similar? Or was it more important that she listen?

His forehead creased before he continued. “I know people say this kind of thing all the time without really meaning it, but I actually do. I promise.”

Omar tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes wet as he considered her. Then his chest swelled, like everything that he felt for her was about to burst forth. She didn’t know how to stop it.

“I love you, Silvia.”

Shit shit shit! She needed to tell him the truth. If only she could be certain of it! But such things were hard to explore while they were still together. And while he was searching her eyes for an answer. She had to saysomething. If she was going to hurt his feelings, this seemed like a terrible time to do it when he was so hopeful and more than a little drunk. And really, if they couldn’t be together—if she did have to break up with him—then at least she could make him feel loved before that happened. Because it was true. She did love him. Maybe not in the way he wanted, or with the same intensity, but she really did care deeply for him so— “I love you too.”