After getting kicked out of his own house for wanting to apply to the Gastronomic Society, I’m sure it must be difficult for him to even think about getting anywhere near that dream again. He’s already shaking his head.

“I don’t know...” he says. “This is a lot to think about. And it’s really hard to get first place in a contest like that, too... I’m not sure it’s the best solution against Deals Deals.”

“But we could at least give it a try.”

“You and me?” He shakes his head again. “Entering a contest together? If my mother finds out—”

“Our families don’t need to know if we don’t win,” I say.

He squints at me. “And if we do?”

“They’ll be mad, but it will be for a good cause. Think about it this way. The contest would show our families that the bakeries are safe against Deals Deals. And winning as nonmembers would get a lot of press attention directed to our neighborhood. It could attract more business for all of us.” I walk up to him. “And if you were to change your mind about applying to the Gastronomic Society, winning would show them your potential as a future student.”

The way his eyes sharpen tells me I’ve crossed the line. “Who said I wanted to apply?”

“I overheard you talking with the principal about it...”

Pedro turns away from me. “I can’t do this.”

“Pedro—”

“This is a big ask,” he cuts me off, getting annoyed. “You have no idea what a hornet’s nest this is for me. If you want to join their contest, go for it. But I’m out.”

“I can’t join alone,” I say at his back.

He turns around. “Why not?”

“The contest this year is for families,” I explain. “Mothers and daughters. Cousins... You get the picture. My mother won’t be my partner. I figured since you and I have a common goal, shouldn’t we join together?”

Pedro’s ears go pink. “How are we a family?”

I feel myself blush, so I stare at my feet.

“There’s an option for couples,” I say, my voice tiny with embarrassment. “I already...checked.”

Pedro is silent for so long, I look up to make sure he hasn’t left the room without me noticing. It’s awkward enough that we’ve been avoiding each other since we nearly kissed—in this exact same spot—last week. And now I’m asking him to join a contest with me, pretending we’re...you know...together?!

Why do I feel like I’m actually asking him to be my boyfriend or something?

His ears have gone from pink to a bright shade of purple in a matter of seconds. He must feel like I’m asking him to be my boyfriend, too.