Page 2 of Pride High 3: Yellow

Obviously. Life was always unfair. Diego didn’t bother telling him that he’d be working during the day tomorrow as well. “I’ll pick you up around dinner time. Okay?”

Ricky nodded eagerly. Diego felt a surge of affection for him that was dragged down by the sinking sensation in his stomach. He was certain that the date would be a disaster. Putting it off in the name of wanting it to be special somehow had only inflated expectations to an impossible degree. Diego would need a goddamn miracle to pull this off.

Ricky climbed out of bed before adjusting himself self-consciously.

Which was good for Diego’s self-esteem. “I’ll show myself out,” he said with a smirk.

“See you tomorrow,” Ricky said after kissing him again.

“Yeah. See ya.”

Diego was lost in thought as he went downstairs, although he slowed when passing the kitchen. Mrs. Nishikawa—or Ami, as she insisted on being called—was standing in front of an electric mixer. She wore an apron, a dusting of flour decorating one cheek. The scene was so wholesome that it made him long for a time when home-cooked meals were still part of his everyday life. Both of his parents used to cook, before his dad had died. As a family, they used to sit down at the table together and eat. He used to squirm impatiently through each meal, always wanting to rush off and play with his friends. Now he’d give anything to return to that table. His mom tried to keep things going after his father’s suicide but often forgot a meal. Diego had responded by fending for himself as much as possible, wanting to take the pressure off her while hoping she would return to normal. Which had backfired. The more successful he was at taking care of himself, the more she had let go.

Ami turned off the mixer and noticed him.

“Diego!” she said with the same flushing cheeks that her son had inherited. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry,” he said, intending to say goodbye and leave. His feet remained stuck to the floor. He had to know. “What are you making?”

“Oh!” She leaned forward to peer into the living room, as if wanting to make sure it was empty. “It’s a surprise.”

Diego tilted his head. “You won’t know until you’ve finished?”

Ami laughed. “It’s a surprise for my husband. Pineapple upside-down cake is his favorite.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever tried that.”

“If you’re here tomorrow, you’re welcome to a piece. Ken can’t finish it all on his own.” She made a face. “At least I hope not.”

“So you guys are going to hang out here and eat cake all night?” Diego asked.

“I’m sure we’ll do more than just that,” Ami said before blushing again. “I didn’t mean—” She shook her head. “When you get to be our age, spending time together is romantic enough. Although he usually surprises me with something little, and I try to do the same. This cake is special to us.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nodded. “I made it for him on our first date. I knew he liked it because he used to go out with my roommate. When he invited me on a picnic—afterthey split up—I baked this cake to bring along. Ken still claims that the first bite is when he fell in love with me.”

“Huh,” Diego grunted. “What about Ricky? Does he like pineapple upside-down cake?”

Ami shook her head. “Not as much as his father. Ricky prefers cookies. Peanut butter are his favorite.” She must have picked up on his desperation because she asked, “Would you like the recipe I use?”

“Yes,” Diego said instantly.

“Wonderful! I’ll write it down for you.”

He walked closer and watched as she opened a cookbook and began writing down information on an index card. “Do you have any special plans?” she asked.

Diego was quiet a moment before answering. “I don’t know. It’s a lot of pressure.”

Ami looked up from her cookbook with a sympathetic expression. “Just be yourself. That’s all that matters. My favorite part about that first date with Ken wasn’t the food he worked so hard to prepare. I liked it best when he ran from the bees.”

Diego snorted. “What?”

“I mean it!” Ami said with a titter. “He wanted the picnic to be romantic, so he put a blanket between flower beds. Which was nice, although he seemed uncomfortable. He kept sweating as we started to eat. I thought he didn’t like the sun. When we had dessert, the bees around us were attracted to the sweetness. One landed on Ken’s head, and when I told him, he leapt to his feet and ran. And kept running, all over the park. I laughed so hard I could barely breathe. I thought it was adorable.”

Diego grinned. “So I just need to cover myself in honey and get swarmed by bees?”

“Just be yourself,” Ami repeated, “and make memories together. Anyone can buy candy and flowers. Do something that is special to both of you. Ken knew that I liked picnics and I knew that he liked cake. We met in the middle.”