She considered this seriously until her mom sent five texts about behaving. There would be a talk later. Kiki was already dreading it.

  Kastov sat on the stone steps leading up to the worn-down, well-loved, itty-bitty restaurant. He was wearing the apron. It said, kiss the cook.

  Jesus.

  Kiki led Kastov into the cozy kitchen. It was nothing like the kitchen collaged in her journal, ripped from the pages of the Giroud promotional booklet. That was Kitchen of the Future: stainless steel everything, a double-wide oven, and fridges that looked big enough to hide multiple bodies.

  But this was good too. A large cooktop, a small walk-in freezer, and an oven that usually worked.

  Kiki scrolled to the cooking playlist on her phone and pressed play. “Did you say your name was Jin-ho? I’ve, uh, only ever called you by your last name.”

  “Yep.” He pulled down a bowl hanging from a hook attached to the ceiling.

  “Why do you go by Kastov, then?”

  He shrugged, flipping the bowl over in his hands. “It’s easier to give at Starbucks, for one.”

  She nodded. She felt that in her heart.

  He bobbed his head to the music. “What is this?”

  “There’s a girl on SoundCloud who mixes classical music with rap. This is ‘MozartxMigos.’”

  “Mmm. You have eclectic taste, Kiki.”

  She brought out the milk, eggs, and butter from the fridge and instructed him to get the flour, sugar, and baking powder from the dry pantry. She set the oven to 350. “Sugar, one and a half cups. Then add eggs, two sticks of butter, and some lime zest. We’re gonna mix it, then add some milk, the flour, and some rum. Then just some salt, some nutmeg, and some vanilla. It’s easy.”

  Kastov picked up the measuring cup, then put it down. “Can we slow down?”

  “No, my dad will be in soon.”

  “Your mom knows I’m here.”

  “My dad won’t be as nice. Anyway, it’s not just that. He also doesn’t like me opening up shop without him.”

  He cocked his head at her. “Really?”

  “So . . . my dad has had this place for years, right? And when he started, this neighborhood didn’t look like it does now. But things have changed.”

  Kastov nodded.

  “My dad came home once and realized he’d left his phone here, so he came back, and as he was opening up, I guess some dumbass passerby reported that he was breaking in. I don’t know.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “It’s fine. The, uh, cop that came by eats here sometimes. So. It’s fine.” Her brain was scattered. She felt the anxiety in her fractured sentences.

  He moved closer to her. “I know your parents are strict, but it sounds like they really care.”

  “They do,” Kiki offered softly. “Can I ask . . . what’s with your dad?” She wanted him to give her something the way she so easily did with him.

  He raised a brow in surprise. “Nothing. I mean, nothing major.” He shrugged. “Just a run-of-the-mill absent dad. I know it sucks, but sometimes I wish I had a curfew like you, you know? He’s the complete opposite of my mom. Do you ever wonder how two people ended up together?”

  Or as friends? she thought. “Yeah.” She pulled away from him. “Anyway. Cake?”

  He grinned. “Cake!”

  Kiki passed him the spatula. “Do as I say, and this will go awesomely.”

  He listened well, and he danced, and most importantly, he didn’t pester her with questions. It was strange, being with him out in the open. She was so used to being right in front of him, walls closing in. She didn’t know how to act with so much space.

  “I’m a master egg-white folder,” he said, easing the spatula into the bowl. He finished with the batter and poured it into the Bundt pan Kiki had meticulously buttered, and she slipped the cake into the oven.

  “Kiki,” Kastov said suddenly. “We forgot something.”

  She turned to him.

  On the other side of the kitchen, he pulled an empty glass bottle from the recycling bin.

  Kiki swallowed hard.

  He spun it on the counter. Silently, without the usual party backing track, they watched as it landed on her.

  He bit his lip. “Come here, Kiki.”

  She willed herself to not overthink it for once, to not second-guess, and he met her halfway, the two of them nearly crashing into each other in front of the spice rack.

  Kastov slipped his arm around her waist. She brushed a stray bit of flour off his cheek. He touched his forehead to hers just as the familiar sound of a churning motor rumbled outside of St. Germain.

  Kiki froze. “That’s my dad.” She quickly angled herself away from him, cheeks prickly with warmth. “Wait here.”

  If Kastov responded, she didn’t hear it. She quickly pushed through the kitchen door.

  Her dad gave a surprised laugh when he saw her. “What are you doing here? You know—”

  “I know, I’m not supposed to open up, but—”

  “It’s fine, but we have a problem, a big problem. It’s gonna be a mess!” He wiped sweat from his dark brown face.

  Kiki shook her head. “Wait, what is?”

  “Tonight!” He threw his hands up. “They published that article in the Miami Times about us.”

  “What? That’s amazing!”

  “No, it’s supposed to go up next month! Kiki, people have been calling me all day to make reservations.”

  Her mouth popped open a little. “We don’t . . . take reservations.”

  “Jean-Luc’s still on vacation. Call Kendra—I’ll call your mother. We need all hands on deck—”

  He stopped suddenly.

  From behind her, a voice said, “I can help.”

  Kiki cursed Kastov out in her head.

  Her dad turned to her with a look that said, Whose boy is this?

  With her own look, she said, Not mine!

  “Kiss The Cook,” eh? Nan kwizin mwen?

  There was no kissing in your kitchen! She sighed. “Dad, this is Kastov—uh, Jin-ho. He just moved here, and it’s his mom’s birthday tomorrow, and he wanted to bring her a cake.”

  Kastov put a hand out. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” her dad said skeptically, ignoring the hand.

  Kiki turned to Kastov. “The cake’s not done, plus it needs to cool. You can pick it up tomorrow.”

  “Can you wait tables?” her father said suddenly.

  Kastov looked at her, and she looked at her father, and her father looked at Kastov.

  “What?” said Kastov.

  “What?” said Kiki.

  Her dad hurried past Kastov and into the kitchen. “Three hours until we open! Fè vit!”

  Triumphant, Kastov put his fists at his sides. “Parents love me.”

  Kiki released a tinny scoff. “It’s only ’cause he’s stressed out and doesn’t have time to be guard dad right now, so don’t flatter yourself.”

  His phone chimed, and he pulled it from his pocket. “Sorry, it’s Chris. I was supposed to meet him to prep for his party after this.”

  Kiki felt her heart shrink. “Oh.”

  Kastov laughed, still tapping at his phone.

  They’re joking about you, she thought, even though she didn’t have a reason to believe it. But the thought persisted. And what kind of person is Kastov if he’s cool with Chris Keller?

  “You should go,” said Kiki.

  Immediately Kastov looked up. His expression softened. “It’s no big—I can help.”

  “We got it. It’s fine. Have fun.”

  She turned, but he rounded a table and cut her off. “Wait, what just happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Well, are you coming tonight?”

  “I’ll probably be exhausted.”

  “Then I’d rather be here.”

  Kiki’s cheeks went hot again. “Go help Chris. He’s your friend.”

  “You’re my friend.” He scanned her face. “What’s your deal with him?”

  She could still hear him.

  “Were you guys . . .” He ran his fingers through his hair twice before being able to finish his sentence. “A thing, or something?”

  He was with Robby, whispering during lunch.

  Carina or Kiki?

  Carina’s hot.

  Carina is so hot.

  But like, Kiki’s cute though. She’s cute. I mean, for a Black girl.

  “Kiki?” Kastov whispered.

  “I’ll bring the cake to your place tomorrow.”

  He shook his head. “Actually, you know what? No worries. I’ll just—I’ll run by Publix.”

  Finally he turned toward the door, and Kiki knew what she should’ve said. It’s your cake—you made it. Bring your mom a slice of heaven.

  And I like you, Kastov. But I can’t like you if you’re like him.

  But she said nothing.

  She only watched him go.

  Spin #6

  Nayelie López’s Last Call Before Fall

  August 1st

  Kiki had convinced herself that she was over it.

  She had attempted to reach out, but Kastov had never responded. She had ended up giving the cake to Josie to deliver, even though she was dying to see him herself. She’d spent days mulling over what to text after that and ended up texting nothing.

  But Nayelie López, who lived across the street, was throwing the final party of the summer. The Last Call Before Fall.

  Kiki peeked through the pink lace curtains of her bedroom window. After pacing for an hour and reluctantly changing out of pajamas, she tiptoed out of her house.

  It didn’t take long to find him. He was where she knew he’d be. In the circle, begging to be kissed.

  He sat between Tara and Robby, eyes on the bottle in his hands.

  Kastov, she thought, and it must’ve been a telepathic phenomenon, because through all the noise, he heard, and he looked up at her. His expression wasn’t unfriendly, but it unsettled her. Anything but utter joy looked wrong on him.

  He said, “Someone else should go—”

  His protest was drowned out by boos. Amari even playfully threw a straw at him, and Kastov smiled like he couldn’t resist, a crack in the unusually icy demeanor he wore tonight. In that flash of teeth, Kiki saw the boy she recognized, the one she’d fallen for completely.

  She fit herself in next to Alexa.

  He spun.

  The rim of the bottle sailed toward Kiki, but with its last shiver of momentum, it eased toward Alexa and stayed there.

  Heart pounding, Kiki rose to her knees, leaned forward, and tapped the bottle so it pointed at herself.

  She looked at Alexa.

  Alexa flashed her a smile and tipped her head toward him. “Well, I’m not gonna be the one to break the streak.”

  Alexa then demanded that everyone take a shot. Their attention shifted, and they all seemed to forget that Kiki had broken the cardinal rule of Seven Minutes in Heaven.

  Kiki entered the bathroom and found Kastov leaning against the counter, his arms crossed. He had that baby blue cap on again, though the hair sticking out from under it seemed longer than before. Without looking at her, he said, “I think touching the bottle after it’s been spun is seven years of bad luck. You’ll anger the party gods.”

  “Worth it.” Kiki moved closer to him. “I’m gonna tell you something, and maybe you’ll think I’m overreacting, but I know in my heart that I’m not. I get that from my mom. She taught me that when someone shows you who they are, you believe them.”

  He turned a little toward her, still not entirely making eye contact, brow wrinkled in confusion.

  “I can’t stand Chris Keller. He’s just a big fan of, I don’t know, little racist shit.”

  Now he looked at her.

  “Like, those, uh, pokes—” She made a stabbing motion with her finger. “‘Kiki, you’re so smart for a Black girl. So pretty for a Black girl. You know, you’re lucky, you don’t even need good grades like I do—you’ll get in anywhere, obviously.’” She laughed now because it sounded so silly. “I called him out once, and he called me an uptight bitch.”

  “I don’t usually punch people, but I’m reconsidering.”

  Smiling, she rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I decided that I hated him.”

  “I think that’s deserved.”

  “And all of his friends.”

  “I didn’t know he was like that, Kiki.”

  “I know.” She put a hand on the porcelain sink, next to his. “You made it super hard for me to dislike you, anyway, and I’m pretty good at holding a grudge.” She swallowed hard, a summer’s worth of swooning building up in her chest. “It’s like, you . . . say things sometimes. And for days, those things are all that I can think about. I don’t like anyone having that power over me. Like, being able to make me or break me with just a few words.”

  His expression went from distressed to dazed. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  Kiki knew that this could be The Moment, but she didn’t return his gaze.

  He was close. When he spoke, his lips almost brushed against her forehead. He smelled like shampoo and chlorine. “Do you remember our first spin? At Izzy’s thing?”

  She nodded.

  “You didn’t trust me at all. And that’s fine, but I spent the whole summer waiting for you to want to stay. It’s like the second our seven minutes were up, poof, you were gone, like you couldn’t wait to be rid of me.”

  Kiki shook her head. “I have a curfew—”

  “I know. I get that. But a little part of me still hoped you might risk it for me. That broke me, every single time.” His thumb brushed against hers. “But when you shouted at the top of your lungs that I was cute—”

  She groaned. “God, please don’t remind me.”

  He laughed, throwing his arms around her. “That made me. It was perfect.”

  He dipped his head down. She knew that if she looked up at those perfect and full and love-starved brown eyes, she wouldn’t be able to resist.

  “Kikade.”

  “Jin-ho.”

  “Kiss me. It’s what the universe wants.”

  She looked up, drank in those deep brown eyes, and kissed him. Someone outside shouted that they had to pee, and there was a crash and cheers from the kitchen, but Kiki hardly noticed any of it. Her senses were completely consumed by the feel of his soft lips on her nervous ones, the touch of his fingers against her cheek, and the flutters in her chest.

  Kastov brushed his thumb across her lips. “How many spins is this?”

  “Six.” She added, “I think,” though she knew it for sure.

  “Look at us—forty-two whole minutes in heaven.”

  Grinning, Kiki pulled off his hat and ran her fingers through his hair. “We have some catching up to do.”

  Author’s Note

  A few years ago, I started working on a YA novel that hinged on fated games of Spin the Bottle/Seven Minute s in Heaven. I wanted to write a cozy story, something to smile at and cringe with. I hit about fifteen thousand words before turning my attention to a completely different story that is very special to me, but I always knew I’d return to this concept. When I first decided to submit to FORESHADOW, I was considering a few speculative ideas before realizing that this was the perfect opportunity to revisit Kiki and Kastov.

  BREAK was my first professionally published work of fiction—I still get chills thinking about opening up the acceptance email! Though the story always focused on Kiki and Kastov’s relationship, the version I submitted started with the pair on their thirteenth spin and already knowing a bit about each other. In this version, they only had two party/closet scenes. My editor suggested taking the story back to the beginning and letting us follow their love story every step of the way. I seriously adore the new scenes that I got to write, particularly Kastov’s dancing, Kiki taking the lead in Spin #3, and the sweet “YOU’RE CUTE” moment. It’s hard to imagine the story without them.

  Though this story is not autobiographical, Kiki is teen me in many ways. Dealing with the microaggressions, the anxiety, and the expectations of being a first-gen kid was never fun, and it didn’t end with adolescence. But I dreamed up this story as a love letter not only to my past self but for those of us publishing often doesn’t see as deserving of the meet-cutes and happy endings. This story is for me, and this story is for you.

  Building the Romance in BREAK

  by Emily X.R. Pan

  The thing about a romance is that we have a good sense of what’s going to happen. One might even argue that love stories are among the most formulaic. But Meridien uses this to her advantage: She gives us the road map of the story, and then she uses our expectations to tease out the romance.

  “Spin #1” introduces the structure, though we don’t really know it yet. We see our narrator at a party where there’s a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven happening, and we get to meet the official person of interest:

  A boy she didn’t recognize had just entered the living room, and everyone seemed very excited about that.

  This skillfully directs the reader’s attention—we know this guy is significant, and we can guess why. The bottle spins, and of course it lands on Kiki. We were already inferring that it would.

  In the closet we meet Kastov for the first time, and immediately there’s a will-they-or-won’t-they tension. The banter feels organic and real; it makes us root for this pairing.

  The “Spin #2” heading confirms how the story is going to go. There will be encounter after encounter, and we’re immediately anticipating the next one.

  New party, new round of Seven Minutes in Heaven. Kiki and Kastov end up together again. Too many coincidences are usually hard to buy, but here it’s a delight because it’s what we want to see.