CHAPTER 1
February 13th, 1993
Diego Gomez lifted his hips meaningfully. He was sprawled out on his back in bed, Ricky Nishikawa on top of him while attacking his lips. The boy sure liked to kiss! Diego liked it too. Almost as much as he enjoyed other things. He raised his hips again so they would press against Ricky’s weight and flexed his proudest muscle. Ricky noticed and pulled back. His mop of black hair was a mess, dark eyes glimmering as he sat up.
“You drive me wild,” Diego growled, thrusting against Ricky’s butt to make him bounce.
Ricky laughed and fell forward, bracing himself on Diego’s chest. Which was no accident. Ricky was always making excuses to touch his pecs, often gasping in appreciation. “The feeling is mutual,” Ricky responded with a squeeze. “As in the verb, not the noun. Get it?”
Diego cocked an eyebrow.
“Because we’re feeling each other?” Ricky tried before shaking his head. “I’ll tell Anthony. He’ll think it’s funny.”
“Oh, this is all some big joke to you, huh?” Diego asked, pulling him close before he rolled over. Ricky held on, wrapping his legs around Diego’s waist after their positions were reversed. Diego pressed against him again. “You got the big part right. But you won’t be laughing.”
As if to prove him wrong, Ricky giggled. “I can’t wait!”
“Obviously you can,” Diego said, “or I wouldn’t have chronic blue balls.”
“I asked my mom if that’s really a thing,” Ricky said. “Which it is, but it’s actually called epididymal hypertension. You can get rid of it by exercising to make the blood flow to other parts of your body.”
“When I’m around you, it only flows to one place,” Diego said, “and as much as your nerd talk turns me on, I don’t want to think about your mom right now.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Although she is hot. Maybe I do want to think about her.”
“Gross!” Ricky said while pushing on his chest. “Maybe you should think of your mom, because my blood is definitely flowing elsewhere.”
Diego grimaced and rolled off him. “Yeah, that works.”
Ricky sat up and cast around for his glasses. When he put them on, they sat askew on his face. That, combined with the hair sticking up in multiple directions, was enough to get Diego in the mood again. He leaned close for another kiss. Ricky reciprocated before pulling back to grin at him.
“Tomorrow is our first date.”
“We’ve been on plenty of dates,” Diego said dismissively.
“Our first official date,” Ricky said with flushing cheeks. “As boyfriends.”
Diego grinned. He liked how that sounded, which was good, because Ricky had been saying it constantly over the past few weeks. And they could have gone on a date ages ago, but Ricky wanted their “first” date to be epic. And special. If that wasn’t intimidating enough, he’d made them wait until freaking Valentine’s Day.
“What are we going to do?” Ricky asked, his eyes shining in excitement.
“I don’t know,” Diego grumbled.
“Is it a surprise?”
“Yeah.” To them both, because Diego hadn’t come up with a good plan. He’d already made reservations at different restaurants before canceling them. He couldn’t stand the idea of being surrounded by boring adults at some dumb steakhouse, and the mere thought of getting dressed up and having to put on a tie made his skin itch. He kept hoping a better idea would come to him, but it hadn’t, and now it was too late. Almost. He still had time to buy flowers and get Ricky a card. Ugh! That would be so lame. Why wouldn’t Ricky just tell him what he wanted? “What are you hoping for?” Diego asked as casually as possible.
He felt a little better when Ricky seemed to draw a blank. “I don’t know. I just want it to be romantic.”
“Romantic,” Diego repeated. What did that even mean? Was he supposed to say something poetic during their date? Or read an actual poem aloud? Diego had a few dirty limericks memorized. That was about it.
“Yeah!” Ricky said while beaming at him. “Romantic.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Diego said as he stood. “I gotta run. I have some things to take care of.”
“You aren’t working on a Saturday night,” Ricky said, as if that was enough to make it true.
Diego shrugged on his leather jacket. “If you say so.”
“That’s so unfair!”
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.”