Jasmine Flowers and Pounds of Sugar

Chapter 1

JAHNVI

I t feels like the rivalry between EJ’s Indian Buffet and Fragrance Spice Kitchen has been going on since the dawn of time.

I mean, every single thing about the two restaurants was different.

While one decided to go with overly lavish chandeliers and tapestries that didn’t resemble true Indian decoration whatsoever, the other lets their walls grow dirty from grubby hands as people brush by.

One has a thick menu that serves just about anything resembling Indian food, while the other’s menu was only one page.

More importantly, one was booming, and the other was on the verge of being shut down.

It was the middle of the evening rush when I had to run out with two overflowing black bags of trash; well, the evening rush for one of those restaurants.

As I waddled out the back door with the ginormous trash bags held above my head so they didn’t scrape the ground, I took a look across the street at EJ’s Indian Buffet in all its dingy and customerless glory.

But I wasn’t the only one staring. Someone met my eyes from the store as they came out with a trash bag of their own.

Everett.

Of course we had to find the exact same minute of a twenty-four-hour day to bring out the trash. Looking at his judgmental eyes and raised eyebrows instantly made my evening significantly worse, as it always did.

“Hey, Pickles!” he called out. “You need help? I think your bags are gonna rip.” He’s called me “Pickles” ever since we were in third grade and I dressed up as Gamora for Halloween.

It was a DIY costume, and my mom wasn’t the greatest at sewing.

He’d taken one look at me and said I looked like a jar of pickles, and in the third grade being reduced from a badass Avenger to the condiment everyone picks off their sandwiches felt like the end of the world.

I’m still pissed, but I’ll deny it if you ever ask in front of people.

Anyway, my arms started shaking trying to keep the bags off the ground. Of course, he was tall enough with big hands to carry his bag with one hand below his waist.

“I got it!” I shouted back to him, rolling my eyes. But of course, right as I said that, one of the bags ripped and spilled its slurry down my black pants.

I had to close my eyes and start counting so I didn’t lose it all right there and jump into oncoming traffic.

When I opened my eyes, I found Everett with his hands and face resting on the gray fence that separated his restaurant from other property, watching me like I was a puppy that had fallen over.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Uh-oh. I think it’s time for you to find a new uniform .”

I’d known Everett practically since I was born. I was only younger than him by a week, and EJ’s had been started by his parents right around the time my dad opened up our restaurant. Apparently, Everett’s restaurant was the one that was booming back then.

The first real memory I had of Everett was from preschool. I had been playing house with a few of my new friends when I saw him swinging by himself. I decided to invite him to play with us since we needed a dad for our game.

But when I’d run up to him and asked if he wanted to play, his response was pretty simple. “No. I don’t play with girls.”

I hadn’t even done anything to him! Why would he be mean?

It caught me off guard, and I guess that was the catalyst that started the deep loathing I’d had for him ever since.

I’d always competed against him in anything we did together in school, and weirdly it was a lot.

Mock trial, Model UN, DECA, speech, that one time I played soccer in eighth grade, you name it.

When I’d join the next thing to get away from him, he’d join a week later.

When we got to high school, it only got worse because academics weren’t the only thing that mattered anymore.

He flaunted his new date every dance we had, rubbing the fact that I could never get a date in my face.

I became student body president and told him verbally in the hallway that most of the grade really only saw him as some pretty boy with no real talent.

Even if I did make that up, half of it was right anyway.

I had no shame in admitting it. He looked amazing.

He always did. It just shows how much potential was wasted.

He had perfectly clear brown skin, perfectly wavy hair that fell on his eyes when he didn’t brush it away, and perfectly nice arms—and I’d know: he always wore the sleeves of his weird granny sweaters above his elbows, and I couldn’t help but stare at those forearms of his.

I’m sure he did it on purpose. The jerk.

That day’s sweater was green and had little brown teddy bears with a red bow. I shook my head. “Make fun of my uniform all you want, Everett. At least I don’t steal my wardrobe from someone’s recluse grandma!”

He frowned, smoothing down his sweater. “What do you wear other than that tacky uniform, J? Your closet consists of nothing but black leggings and whatever they just unpacked down at Hollister. You’ve got more trends clashing than a Pinterest mood board.”

“Ironic that you’re bashing Hollister,” I said, flashing him a smile.

“Because I know you, like, love Hollister, don’t you?

Steph works there now, doesn’t she? How long has it been since you’ve talked to her?

” I mentally jumped with glee when I saw his jerky smile falter as I brought up his most recent ex.

He stopped leaning on the fence and put his hands in his pockets.

“I know you’re alien to the concept,” he started, his voice a bit lower, “but you can still be friends with your exes. Oh, right, how would you know? You’ve never even had a boyfriend—”

“You know, I gotta get new pants,” I blurted, cutting him off. “And my dad’s restaurant actually has customers. This was fun, but I gotta go now, Everett.”

I heaved, trying to get the trash bag into the dumpster (well, the one that wasn’t broken. The other one would have to wait until after the dinner rush). I got it about halfway up before it fell back on me again.

Well, that’s embarrassing.

Everett was probably still watching me too, laughing. I was too busy trying to stay upright to notice. Peeking out of the corner of my eye, I checked. But he’d already left.

“Move.”

With a yelp, I jumped as I felt someone behind me. Everett had somehow crossed the street in the time I had been struggling with the bags. Before I even had time to comprehend, the bag was in his hands.

Old wood and vanilla. That’s how he smelled, if you were curious.

He smelled like the inside of a closet. Not in a bad way—it definitely wasn’t musty or anything like that.

It was like opening something nostalgic, a sweet smell that reminds you of a sweet memory and you’re immediately transported there.

The thing with his cologne though? I wasn’t transported anywhere. In fact, I was actually more aware of my surroundings. I was more aware of how close he was as he stood behind me, more aware of his breath on my neck, the lingering feeling of his touch on my hands, the feeling of his eyes on me.

“So.” He looked down at me as he flipped open the dumpster lid. “What’s the magic word?”

Get it together.

“Give it back! I can do it on my own—”

He thrust the bag back at me. My breath caught as its weight almost made me fall over.

“I’ll just be off then!” he said, smiling as he turned to leave.

Oh hell. Self-respect be damned! “Wait! Come back.” I swallowed and crinkled my nose, and not just because of the trash. “ Puh-leeze help me out?” I showed him my teeth in some attempt at a smile.

He flashed a real smile at me, pulling his hands out of his khaki pants and grabbing the bag. The weight left my arms, and I immediately felt lighter.

He grabbed my elbow so I didn’t fall over.

“Anytime, Pickles.” He batted his eyes at me as he threw away the bag in a swift motion.

He even bent over and scooped up the broken bag, deftly swinging it into the dumpster without spilling a drop.

I couldn’t help frowning as I noticed how easily he could do that.

He noticed my jealousy, instantly of course.

His smile became wider, and I could feel everything get hotter.

He took a few steps away from me, hands back in his pockets. “It’s a bit easier when you’re actually taller than the trash bags.” His taunting smile was now so wide his eyes were almost closed.

My heart ached at the sight.

I let him jog away back to his restaurant and walked back into the storage room behind our restaurant. Biting my lip, I grabbed a wet rag to clean my pants enough to last at least until the end of the rush.

I rubbed the back of my neck as I dabbed my leg, remembering the last time I had been that close to him.