I stare at them until they’re out of sight. That was strange, but I guess they haven’t seen me with anyone except for Paul and it must be weird for them, too. Plus, I don’t normally leave the house looking like this. They’re too polite to tell me I look ridiculous to my face, but they’re not above gossiping about it.
Ugh, they’re going to light up the cousins’ chat. I can only hope they didn’t take sneaky pics. I don’t need this one floating around Manila.
I turn and find Eugene staring at me. But he’s not looking at my outfit. He’s looking at my face, and it seems like he’s forming some kind of opinion.
“Was one of us just saying something?” I ask. I grab Vidalias and shallots, trying to bury my shame in onions.
“Do you run into family a lot?” Eugene asks.
“Constantly,” I sigh.
I smile, but there’s a wistful look on his face and I remember he grew up essentially alone. I was somewhat on my own in eighth grade after Cari started high school and June and Justin Michael were busy with sports, and it was the worst year of my life.
I shake off the memories and look over at him.
“Um, I think I have everything,” I say.
“Me too. Checkout?” He gestures toward the front of the store.
It’s eight p.m., so there’s only self-checkout, which takes forever with produce, and one lane with a cashier, so we get in line. The old lady in front of us is buying enough cat food to keep Cuddles happy, so this will take a minute.
“What are you making with all that?” I ask, looking in Eugene’s cart.
“Oh, I’m not sure yet. I was just picking up staples,” he says.
He helps me empty my cart, then puts the divider down and loads his groceries onto the belt. No proteins, but I know his father breaks down whole animals, so he probably gets his meat through Lantern & Jacks. I can’t even imagine having that kind of quality at my disposal.
Eugene is buying brussels sprouts, potatoes, cauliflower, Brie and Camembert, Pocky Sticks, Israeli couscous, and… Cap’n Crunch.
“Big Cap’n Crunch fan?” I ask.
He glances at the box and then into my eyes. “It’s the best cereal in the world,” he says.
I must make a face. Actually, I’m totally scrunching my nose.
“What?” he says.
“You’re cute. Wrong, but cute,” I say.
“Name the best one. I’ll wait,” he says. He folds his arms across his chest.
“Raisin bran.” I even take a step closer and stand on my toes to say it. Without my heels on, his five-eight height is tall.
I know it’s going to be an unpopular opinion—it always is. But I’m ready. I’m versed in this argument from the infinity war with Cari and Davey.
Eugene stares at my lips and then my words must register because he makes a face and throws his hands up. “What? You can’t be serious. No one on earth thinks that’s true.”
The cashier greets us and we both stop to say hello. Eugene asks about her night and if she has plans for Memorial Day. Paul never did that because… well, he didn’t care and small talk bothered him. But Eugene maintains eye contact until she starts scanning my items, then he turns back to me.
“Still waiting for an explanation,” he says in a lower voice.
Something about it radiates through me, and I try to hold it together. Raisin bran. Right. Cereal. The least sexy discussion we could be having.
“Raisin bran is the perfect balance of sweet and not,” I say. “Especially when it’s soggy.”
He gives me a horrified stare, widening his eyes and opening his mouth. “I’ve spent my night grocery shopping with a girl who likes soggy cereal?”
I point to my chest. “I will even let it sit on the counter and marinate in milk.”
He shakes his head. “Monster.”
I pay for my groceries, then wait while the cashier rings him up. She’s pretending not to listen in, but she definitely is, given the smirk on her face.
“Raisin bran,” he mutters. And it’s cute. It’s so cute.
But wait… how can I be into a new boy when I’m still… whatever with Paul? Then again, I’m not doing anything wrong. This is just a friendly shopping trip, right? I mean… look at me. It’s definitely not a date of any sort.
Eugene pays, thanks the cashier, and we return the carts to the indoor corral since we only have one bag each. He extends his hand and takes my grocery bag from me as we walk to the automatic doors. Our fingers graze each other’s and we lock eyes for a second.
“I got it,” he says.
I eventually let go, too stunned to respond in a proper amount of time. Paul would’ve already been four steps ahead of me with just his bag.
We go outside and the lingering warmth of the summer night feels good on my chilled legs.
“Fine,” I say, feeling generous. “I like Corn Pops too, but they take too long to get soggy.”
“Which is why it’s the second-best cereal out there—the shape and coating resists sogginess,” he says. “But the taste of Cap’n is superior.”
I stop at the Corolla and unlock it. “Did we just end the cold cereal war?”
He opens the back of the car and places the grocery bag on the floor. After shutting the door, we linger by the driver’s side. It feels like there’s a magnetic field between us, both compelling me closer but keeping me stuck in place.
“I mean… I could consider a truce,” he says. “But I feel like the person who admits to liking raisin bran is just hiding more horrific preferences.”
“Only one way to find out.” I shrug.
“You’re right. Dinner this week?”
We freeze and stare at each other. I part my lips but don’t say a word. I can’t believe he said that. He can’t seem to believe it either, judging from the rapid movements of his eyes. Is he asking me out? Or maybe he means getting dinner as foodie friends? Yes, that must be it. Just friends.
We stand silently next to the Corolla. The quiet lingers for way too long as I wait for him to ask for my number or elaborate. I brace myself for both hope and disappointment, but neither happens. So he must’ve been joking. Why would a guy as cute and talented as Eugene have asked me out, anyhow?
“Where’s your car?” I finally say.
He lets out a loud exhale. I can’t tell if he’s relieved or disappointed.
“My ride is right there.” He points to a vintage black and gray motorcycle parked in the lane across from mine.
“You’re not serious,” I say.
“Do people joke about motorcycles? Raisin bran maybe, but not Triumphs.”
“I… but… they’re unsafe,” I blurt out.
Yes, what a sexy, cool thing to say.
He shrugs a shoulder. “Bikes can be unsafe when people are reckless. So can skateboards, or cars, and just about everything else. It depends on the driver. Have you ever been on one?”
“No. Never. Not once. Nope. No.” I shake my head, my bun tilting around and now probably tragic instead of cute messy. I take my hair down. He watches as I shake out my now wavy hair and toss it over my head.
“So… that’s a no then?” He smiles slowly.
I wince.
“All right,” he says. He shifts his groceries to his other shoulder. “If you change your mind, call me and we’ll go for a ride.”
“I won’t, but I mean, is there a Bat-Signal I should use?” I say.
He tilts his head.
“I don’t have your number,” I say.
“Oh.” He looks genuinely surprised.
He gives me his number, and I text him my name so he has mine. As I hit send, my heart races like I ran here from my house.
“Thanks for the, uh… company,” I say.
Note: it comes out as awkward as humanly possible.
“It was a really pleasant surprise,” he says. He pauses, lips parted.
I lean forward on the balls of my Tangled flip-flops waiting for him to say more. He glances
at my lips again, but looks away. He smiles and crosses the quiet parking lot.
“Make sure to let that Cap’n Crunch sit in milk for a while,” I yell after him.
“I’m going to eat it dry with a spoon at this point,” he yells back.
I laugh my weirdly deep laugh.
He opens up a saddlebag, takes out a helmet, and puts his groceries in. Then he straddles the bike and kick-starts it. He gives me a small wave before driving off into the night.
I’m left standing there with my heart pounding, trying to figure out why he makes it race. Why do I feel this way when I’m around him? Why is there this draw to him? Is it just because he has the life I dream about? Or is it more than that?
I open the driver’s side of the Corolla, and I still smell him as I put on my seat belt. When I plug in my phone, I save him as Captain Eugene Crunch Matthews and smile to myself. Oddly, I want to text him already, even though he just left. Even though I don’t really understand any of this.
The thing is: if he’d actually asked me on a real date, despite everything going on with Paul, I would’ve said yes. And the thought shakes me so hard, I hide my phone in my bag and start the Rolla.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DAVEY’S EXTREMELY NOSY FAMILY GROUP TEXT
MAY 26
Cousin Amberlynn
OMG YOU GUYZZZZZ
Mom
What? What happened? Is everything okay?
Cousin Crystal
OMG I can’t believe you’re already on the group chat! Snitch!
Cousin Amberlynn
You’re just jelly I beat you here. I saw them first
Aunt Minnie
What is going on?
Cousin Joe
Saw who?
Cousin Amberlynn
Jaz and Eugene were grocery shopping together at Publix ♥
Aunt Tammy
What?!
Wait, isn’t she home, Cari?
Cousin Crystal
Hand to God. We talked to them
Aunt Regina
Was there a run-in scheduled for tonight, Cari??
Cari
No. At last check he wasn’t even sure if he was still in. And I thought she was here. I’m as surprised as everyone else
Nonna
So our girl is going off script
Aunt Jay
I kind of love that. Plus, it’s my boy. I knew he was into her
Cousin Amberlynn
Well, it looked like he was alllll in
Cousin Crystal
And she looked MESSY. What was with those shorts?
Cousin Amberlynn
Maybe they did happen to just run into each other.
How weird would that be?
Cousin Wesley
Wow, gossip much? You all need more to do on a holiday weekend
Cousin Wylan
Worried Eugene will win, huh?
Cousin Wesley
Not even a little. She has her first run-in with Justin Michael tomorrow at Uncle Ed and Aunt Kim’s store
Aunt Kim
We can’t wait!
Cousin Crystal
Well, I’m changing to Team Eugene
Aunt Jay
Wow, really?
Cousin Crystal
She was a grade A mess and he looked at her like she hung the moon. They were so cute, shopping together like a little married couple
Cousin Amberlynn
Told ya from the start, sis
Cousin Joe
This isn’t over. Aaron is a natural favorite and he’s never wavered in wanting in
Mom
OMG go to bed everyone
It’s 8:15, Ma
Mom
I stand by my point
Aunt Tammy
Good night! I made the best pad thai. Y’all should stop in for leftovers!
Cari
Um, let’s regroup after she meets with Justin Michael tomorrow
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JASMINE’S IPHONE
MAY 26
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♥ Paul ♥
Did you get my text yesterday?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It’s Memorial Day, but there’s no rest for the wicked (or teenagers off for the summer). Because normal people have a vacation day, I have a double shift.
This morning is unpaid labor—part of my family’s involuntary volunteering program. The “oh, Jaz can help with that” enlistment from my mom. I’m going to Uncle Ed and Aunt Kim’s bookstore, Books & Other Adventures. They recently added a small tea and scone bar, and that’s what I’ll be manning before an evening shift at Berry Plum.
I pull into the parking lot of B&OA and get out of the car with more care than usual. I decided to mix things up and wear a dress today. My family looked at me like I had three heads when I came out of my room this morning. My mom, who was just home from her overnight shift, stopped, said “I must be overtired,” rubbed her eyes, and looked at me again. But I don’t know. I woke up feeling good.
Or… actually, I do know: I cooked last night for the first time since before Burrito Friday and the mussels turned out amazing.
As I was in the kitchen, I was just… content. Standing by the stove feels like coming home again. There’s a sense of peace in doing knife work and getting my hands dirty. There’s a joy in the moment ingredients come together to form something better than the separate parts. Something I made, something I knew just how to tweak to be its best.
The greatest thing for me, though, was watching Cari and Dad dig in and fight over the French bread I bought to go with the mussels. Dad got the last piece and used it to sop up the rest of the broth. Then he rubbed his stomach while Cari gave him a stink eye. Even Davey, who won’t try mussels, had some bread dipped in broth and gave me a thumbs-up while trying to talk with his mouth full. And that’s what it’s all about for me: making people happy. It makes me feel good and, okay, yes, special. Davey is great at basketball, Cari is good at everything, but this is mine.
And yes, I admit Eugene had an effect on me. It makes no sense since I barely know him, but I sang a love song rather than “Jolene” (again) while I was cooking. And I replayed our entire Publix conversation in my head before I fell asleep. The feeling, the magnetism that runs through me when I’m near him is something I’ve never felt before. And that’s odd to say after dating someone else for four years.
But I don’t have time to think about him right now. Or why he hasn’t texted. Or why I couldn’t come up with something clever or funny enough to text him. It’s time for my shift.
I pull open the glass door and walk into the bookshop. As I pass the register, I wave at Simon. He never talks to me, but he shifts his glasses and I take that as a hello. Uncle Ed walks toward me. He’s Mom’s youngest brother.
“Hey, kiddo,” Uncle Ed says. “Thanks for helping out. We’re already busier than a normal Monday.”
“No problem at all,” I say.
“You know the drill,” he says.
I nod. I’ve helped out a dozen times. He offered to officially hire me for the summer, but Berry Plum has always been good to me. I didn’t want to leave them shorthanded, even though it would’ve been nicer to work here.
Uncle Ed points at me. “Keep any tips you make this time.”
I usually shove them into the little cashbox. “Mm-mm,” I hum.
He stares at me. “As stubborn as Dee,” he sighs. “The apron’s behind the counter. And help yourself to some scones. Jay brought them in earlier and they’re still warm.”
“Ooh. There go your profits for today.” I raise my eyebrows.
“A risk I’m willing to take.” He smiles and gently squeezes my chin so my face returns to normal. I slide behind the small bar.
The tea bar is just four seats and a varnished wood counter with a glass cloche for the scones. We have a few different kinds of loose tea and a milk steamer for lattes. It’s not exactly Starbucks, but it’s perfect for B&OA
.
It’s not long before I have my first customer. Although it’s an obscure little counter, on a decent morning the store can move well over a hundred scones, because Aunt Jay’s baking skills are top-notch. Plus, Uncle Ed’s daughter Charlotte did an amazing sandwich board outside highlighting the tea bar inside. Her art is so good, she has an Instagram fan account devoted to her signs and everything.
Today’s choices are: raisin, cranberry orange, and bacon cheddar. I know which ones I’ll be trying: all of them. Whatever my feelings are about my aunt, my feelings on baked goods are stronger.
But I’m kept too busy to eat. I smile, chat with customers, and move scones in and out of the warming drawer for hours. It’s noon when things slow down. The morning went by in a blink of friendly conversation and a few people camping out with their tea as they started their books.
“I think you’re just about done, Jaz, but could you give us a hand upstairs?” Uncle Ed asks. “We could use more chairs in the reading room. Big middle-grade author coming in later.”
“Absolutely.”
I try to talk like I don’t have a mouth full of bacon cheddar scone. It… doesn’t work. He laughs, and I finish chewing as I make my way to the award-winning children’s section.
The upstairs is a wonderland. There’s a literary forest, a book castle kids can climb into, a pirate ship surrounded by swirling stars, a minizoo with stuffed animals for sale, and my personal favorite: a reading room that’s accessed by moving a book marked Books & Other AdVenturas.
Uncle Al, another of Mom’s brothers, said designing and installing the children’s floor was the best and worst project of his life, but this space was featured in enough magazines for all to have been forgiven.
I pull the red book and the reading-room door springs open. Inside is a miniature theater—dark, with a little stage and overhead spotlights. There are already thirty chairs set up, so a dozen more should do it. I take some wooden folding chairs out of the storage room and I’m walking back when I notice a shadow of someone in the room. New customers love to explore, but usually, when they see nothing is going on in here, they turn around.
The Jasmine Project Page 8