SUGAR KISS [YEONBIN] ✓

four

This kitchen feels hotter today, which probably has something to do with all the nervous energy crackling through everyone. We’re all in aprons, buzzing with anticipation. Sweating—partially because there are literally too many cooks in this kitchen and there’s just a lot of pressure and body heat.

Dr. Kang stands and says, “Chefs, you will be judged individually, based on your dishes from last night, on your performance we observe in this kitchen, and as a group. For this challenge, you will be working in your assigned teams.”

Everyone glances around at their team members, like we haven’t been doing that since the lists were posted. But I’m looking at the competition. Because Yeonjun is staring at me, dark eyebrows raised. There’s an almost-smile on his lips and suddenly I’m on fire. Because here we are in this kitchen where he intentionally screwed me over less than twenty-four hours ago, and he may be sorry, but I can’t stand the injustice of it.

I’ll have to, though. This is not about him; it’s about me, and that scholarship, and our team. I narrow my eyes at him and look back at Dr. Kang.

“You will present your dishes when the time runs down, after which we will discuss. Three of you will be returning home tomorrow.”

A ripple of nerves runs down my spine, because what if. What if, what if.
What if I get sent home tomorrow and it’s like this whole thing was a fluke? Then I’ll know I should never have been here, never belonged here, it had been a total waste to apply, which was what my brain was screaming at me through every sentence I typed in the essay.

This is not for you. When have things like this ever been for you?

And I’ll have to go back there and face everyone who’s too nice to say, Dream smaller, kiddo.

What if.

Nervous energy rumbles through the group as fast as it runs through me.

“You will have forty minutes,” Dr. Kang says. “Forty minutes to prepare an appetizer, a main course, and a dessert.”

“Forty minutes?” Taehyun squeaks beside me.

“We’ll have to split up,” I mumble to him, and a boy with dirty blond surfer hair and shockingly pale skin leans in to listen. “Four on desserts, four on apps, four on main.”

“You will be given three ingredients. One per course. You may choose which course you would like to use each in, but they must be divided so that one mystery ingredient appears in each. Is that understood?”

A murmured chorus of yeses and yes, sirs goes up from us all.

“Open your boxes. The three ingredients for this round are: black garlic.”

“What the hell is that?” I say under my breath, and Surfer Dude tosses his hair out of his eyes and smirks. He knows exactly what it is.

“Bok choy.”

Okay. Okay, bok choy I think I can take.

“And jackfruit.”

I raise an eyebrow at Taehyun, who says, “I know jack shit about jackfruit.”

I laugh.

Dr. Kang looks down at the timer in his hand.

“Time begins . . . now.”

And the kitchen devolves into chaos.

Everyone is shouting over each other on the red team, clawing for control, and on blue, it’s totally quiet. We’re frozen.

I glance back over my shoulder, eyes landing on Yeonjun. Some tiny girl on his team says, “So, bok choy. Stir fry maybe?”

She looks straight at him and Yeonjun hisses, “I don’t know how the hell to cook bok choy.”