Page 45 of Pride High 2: Orange

“Maybe I am,” Diego said, still grinning.

Ricky allowed himself to stare for a moment. Then he sighed, but not because of how handsome Diego was. “I better go.”

“See ya around.”

“See ya,” Ricky echoed. “Try not to get kicked out of algebra class too. People are going to think I have diabetes if I keep asking to pee.”

Diego stared at him like he was speaking gibberish.

“Diabetes makes you pee a lot,” he explained. “My mom used to tell me that when I ate too much candy. ‘You’ll pee the bed if you’re not…’ umm… ‘careful.’”

“I think they make rubber sheets for that kind of thing,” Diego replied. “I saw them in a kink catalog.”

“I didn’tactuallypee the—Ugh! Never mind.”

“You are kind of a nerd,” Diego said. “But that’s all right.”

Why did that make his heart flutter? Ricky was such a sucker for a pretty face. He shook his head and reentered the gymnasium, where he continuously missed the ball because, mentally, he was still hanging out in the hall with Diego.

They saw each other again in the locker room, but only briefly, since Diego went to take a shower. Ricky was trying very hard not to visualize that when one of the other students provided him with a distraction.

“‘I felt so lonely,’” said a guy in comically whiney voice. A couple of his buddies were already laughing. “‘I honestly thought that nobody liked me.’”

Ricky went rigid. He instantly recognized the words because he had obsessed over them when writing the article about his suicide attempt, wanting it to be perfect. And now those words were being parroted back at him. He turned around to see Graham Fowler, a beefy guy with blond hair, reading from the latest issue ofThe Lion’s Pride Post.

“‘I didn’t fit in at my new school. Imagine being a freshman without any friends. When I looked in the mirror, all I saw was a loser. That seemed like a good enough reason to kill myself.’” Graham snorted, looked up, and shook his head. “Hey man, I don’t think pills are the cure for that. Maybe you should have tried a gun instead.”

Ricky opened his mouth to retort just as a blur moved across his vision. He flinched when he heard a loud bang and saw that Diego—wrapped in a towel—had grabbed Graham by the neck and slammed him against the lockers.

“I’mhis friend!” Diego snarled. “Where are yours? Huh? Do you see anyone coming to your rescue?”

Graham tried to respond but could only gasp for air. The other guys backed away.

Except for Ricky. He leapt over the bench and started pulling on Diego’s forearm “It’s okay,” he said. “Let him go.”

Diego shook his head. “I wanna know what he found so funny about your article.”

Ricky pulled harder, not that it helped. “Let him breathe!” he said, beginning to panic. “Then we can find out.”

Diego finally released Graham, whose legs buckled as he slid to the floor.

“Well?” Diego said, staring down at him with fire in his eyes.

“Nothing,” Graham wheezed. “S’good.”

“Damn right it’s good,” Diego said, ripping off his towel and tossing it over Graham’s head.

It was a testament to how concerned Ricky was that he didn’t sneak a peek. He didn’t even think to. Instead, after Diego had turned toward his locker to get dressed, Ricky offered Graham his hand, intending to help pull him to his feet.

Graham smacked his hand away and muttered something under his breath. His face was crimson as he got up, grabbed his stuff, and fled the locker room. Everyone else took off too, leaving Ricky alone with Diego.

“Why are you so angry?” he demanded.

Diego spun around while buttoning up his jeans.“What?”

“That was completely unnecessary!” Ricky said, pointing in the direction that Graham had fled. “You could have killed him!”

“Want me to?” Diego asked with a mad chuckle.