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It was the 25th of January, a day that up until last year was spent immersed with family for Alba. It would start early in the morning with a large breakfast accompanied by her abuelos and her parents, should they be around for it. Traditionally, she'd wait with anticipation for the sautéed plantains her father would make with brown sugar and honey, a dish often used as a dessert most nights, but prepared as an exemption that morning. After cleaning up the table and part of the kitchen, most of the afternoon was spent cooking and preparing for a large dining feast in which uncles, aunts, cousins, and distant friends would cramp inside their little house a few miles away from the beach and celebrate. It was in the evening where she felt happiest, enjoying the food they had spent so long cooking and laughing with the people she loved over a glass of wine, a drink she was generally not allowed to sip from unless it was a special occasion. And for Alba, there was no occasion more special than her birthday.

Last year the 25th came and went without so much as a sound. Alba had been busy managing her studies and dealing with the news that she was to be a sailor soldier, a guardian of people whom strongly believed her and the rest of the scouts to be terrorists and menaces to the city they were trying to protect. Her parents were already abroad from Costa Rica and in the middle of travel, so the day was spent talking with her abuelos for a few minutes on the phone before catching up on homework. She couldn't remember if she had told anyone, but that was fine; at the time, she was still a bit shy around her friends and didn't want to bother them, especially at the Academy. Many of the girls there weren't as warm and as friendly as she had imagined the students would be.

Today, however, was something of a lucky break. Her parents were back home, and thanks to the magic of the world wide web and Skype, Alba had been able to video chat with them, her abuelos, and the rest of the family she was so accustomed to seeing in person. It was a long morning of chatting with each individual cousin and learning the latest gossip from each family member, and by the end of it, she was overwhelmed with the happiness from seeing them. It was as though she never left her dear Costa Rica. By the end, it was just her and her parents, who held each other close as they watched their only daughter with pride.

"Y estás haciendo bien en la universidad?"

"Sí, sí, mis clases están bien. Creo que me 'stoy sacando buenas notas, pero no se han publicado todavía."

"Y el dormitorio? Estás consiguiendo junto con sus compañeras de cuarto? Necesitas tomar fotos y enviarlas a nosotros!"

"Pues, tengo dos, verdad? Una se llama Gloria y le gusta luchar, como en Mexico! Ella tiene una máscara y todo, y practica en su cuarto. Ella's muy amable, y su mama es como Abuela. La otra....es un poco egoísta, pero no es demasiado terrible."

"Albíta, suena como que estás haciendo muy bien. Todos te enviamos nuestro amor en su día, y esperamos verte pronto. Te quieremos mucho."

"Gracías, gracías, por favor enviar mi amor a todos tambien! Fue rico hablar con ustedes. Te quiero! Besos!"

"Besos Alba!"

The image of her parents left the screen, and Alba gently lowered the lid of her laptop to a close. She was happy to have seen them, but she was also overwhelmed by how suddenly homesick she was. It had been two years since she left, and was still unsure if she'd be able to visit anytime soon. Her hand reached out for a tissue to wipe away the grief that trickled down her face. No, she wouldn't cry today. This was supposed to have been a good thing.

And so, with a determination to not get bogged down on her 18th birthday, Alba tossed the tissue away, marched to the kitchen and began to serve herself a heaping bowl of vanilla ice cream, oblivious to the foot steps that echoed past the suite's door and down the hall.

There were small traces of surprise that reflected upon her face as she smelled the scent of sizzling sweet peppers that lingered down the hall. It was true that not many took advantage of the kitchenette on their floor, and quite possibly on the other floors of their building as well. Unless it was a culinary assignment, it was rare for a student to go out of their way and prepare a home-cooked meal, especially when they had other alternatives to feed them without all the effort. This allowed them to focus on more important matters, such as homework or the latest in cable-network television shows.

Alba was such a person, though not from lack of trying. Each attempt at cooking a simple entrée had resulted in a smoke detector going off or, at it's best, miss-reading an ingredient or portion amount and botching up an entire recipe's worth of food. It would seem that her culinary expertise was juxtaposed to her own sewing capabilities, in that she was quite good with closing seams but absolutely terrible at frying an egg. No matter how much oil or butter she put on the pan, she always managed to burn it to a crisp and get it impossibly stuck.

So, she'd develop the habit of fixing her own meals downstairs at the cafeteria and using the communal kitchen for storing various foods that she didn't want her roommates eating; such as this fantastic vanilla ice cream. Alba passed the lone pan of peppers (making sure to breathe in again to appreciate its delicious smell), opened the topmost freezer door of the fridge, and began to hunt down her carton of goodness amongst the bags and boxes of frozen dinners. Just as her fingers wrapped around the pint, she was startled by a rustling of folding fabric followed immediately by a weight on her shoulders.

She soon relaxed, though, as Simon made his presence more known from his mannerisms and the warm tone of his voice. Alba's face instantly broke out into a smile, a bright radiance beaming from her cheeks as she allowed herself to fall gently back against him. Once the carton of ice cream was safely put away and out of sight, she reached for both of his hands and guided them around her upper waist into a tight hug.

"Spoil my lunch?" She questioned as she gave his arms an affectionate squeeze, her voice playful and undeniably happy. "Simon, are you cooking in here? I didn't think anyone did! It smells muy delicioso."

It may have only been a little over a week since a new tier of their relationship sparked into life, but to Alba, she could hardly believe or recall a time where she wasn't happily tucked in within the embrace of Simon's arms and not consider them a second home. Granted, it had taken her a few days to get over her spontaneous bouts of bashfulness any time she began to really think of her pleasant predicament (and even now, her cheeks could still be stained by a rogue blush). Boyfriend just didn't feel like the right term to call him; Simon was someone much more than a boyfriend to her, something that meant much more than simply 'hey, we're together now, let's hold hands in public'.

Alba just hadn't been able to put her finger on a good word for it yet. So for now, he was just Simon, a very important person in her life and so very close to her heart, regardless of how long it had been since they shared their first kiss. Every day she'd met with him since that fateful day had been nothing short of delightful, comfortable, and addicting. It was becoming harder and harder for her to leave him most nights and Alba secretly hoped that she wasn't becoming undesirably clingy.

When his hands left her waist there was a moment of disappointment, as Alba wasn't ready to let go of his affections quite just yet and had to fight the urge to shoot him with a piteous pout. As it turned out, however, his intentions were justified as he handed her a plate full of savory vegetables darkly caramelized from being expertly cooked in high heat, their aroma teasing he nostrils. Her smile, which had fallen when he parted widened once more at the soft kiss.

"Oh, thank you! Really, this looks and smells so delicious." She admitted, waiting for him to serve himself before taking a bite. "I can wash up when we're done. Did you want to eat in here, or back in your room?"

One nice thing about the kitchenette: there was a smaller sized table with four flimsy, plastic chairs able to accommodate students should they want to dine in and not leave a mess.

Alba had no doubt in her mind that the dish she held tasted just as good, if not better, than the smell it filled the room with. There had been a few times in the last year or so in which she'd been able to try Simon's elusive cooking, and not once did she leave unimpressed. Granted, it probably helped that she herself couldn't whip up a batch of anything to be proud of, let alone feed to friends; so, it could be an exaggerated perception from admiration alone. Regardless of where her confidence stemmed from, though, it was there, accompanied along by a feeling of immense gratitude. Outside of her family, nobody had ever gone out of their way to cook anything for her before.

Nor had anyone ever gone out of their way to set a table so beautifully for her, either. Alba caught his nervous glances to the corner of the kitchen as he thought of a place to eat in, and naturally, peered in that direction herself. As her gaze fell on the flowers, a bouquet of bright orange winter lilies and amaryllis adorned with snowdrops, her mouth gaped in surprise. Her wide eyes flickered back to Simon in a way that suggested her thoughts to be you did this for me? truly? before setting her sights back to the table, wondering how she'd even managed to miss it before.

Her plate was carefully placed on its cotton-cloth surface as she bent to smell the arrangement. While the scent of peppers still lingered in the air, she could still make out the sweet floral aroma of the lilies. "These are so, so lovely, Simon." She said coyly, her hand reaching for the bright yellow envelope. Upon reading the card, the tone of her face deepened to a color that likened a dark rouge. "Oh! How did you know? Did I tell you? I don't remember telling you, I -- Oh, you really shouldn't have."

Despite her fussing and embarrassment, it was made quite clear how pleased she was with Simon's set-up when she methodically took his plate of food, set it next to hers, and then proceeded to clasp her hands around his neck and pulled him into a firm kiss. "You are so very much amazing." She spoke once their lips parted. "Thank you. Shall we eat?"