Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 51: Impressed
Abby

“Alright, paperwork’s done,” Karl declares with an air of finality, piling the last of the filed sheets into a

neat stack.

The office is a maze of papers, scatt ered across the desk and floor, but we’ve managed to conquer the

monster of bureaucracy.

I chuckle, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Who knew running a restaurant came with so

much… paper?”

Karl snorts. “Did no one warn you?”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Alright, Mr. Know-It-All. Next is ordering. Let’s head to the kitchen and see

what we need.”

He nods, and we make our way to the heart of the restaurant. The stainless steel countertops gleam

under the dim overhead lights, and I breathe in the familiar mix of spices and cooked food. There’s

something soothing about being here, even when the bustle is gone.

I grab a clipboard and start jotting down a list. “We definitely need more garlic, basil, tomatoes…”

Karl starts peeking into various containers and cupboards, joining in on the inventory. “Don’t forget the

mushrooms and parmesan.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence as we both get absorbed in our task.

Then, from a distance, the soft strumming of a guitar fills the space. It seems one of the staff has left a

radio on.

“Is that… Ed Sheeran?” Karl asks, looking up with a smile.

I nod, swaying slightly to the rhythm. “Perfect. I haven’t heard this song in a while.”

My head instinctively bobs to the music as I get back to work. But then, I feel a presence beside me. I

look up to see Karl standing beside me, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Dance with me?” he asks.

Shaking my head, I turn away slightly. “You’re ridiculous. We’ve got work to do.”

“C’mon, Abby. We haven’t danced in so long.” Before I can stop him, he reaches out, grabbing my

and twirling me

heat creeps up into

mischievous laugh, Karl grabs me again, pulling me closer this time. I have

sway along with him, partially victim to his

feelings.

I know it, the cold, hard kitchen tiles are becoming

us.

the kitchen, Karl’s hand finds my waist, pulling

pressure as his fingers dance against my back, guiding our movements.

and slide against the cold tiles, creating a

turn, every twirl

a rush of memories

come between

familiar, comforting.

admit it, but… I’ve missed

we used to spontaneously decide to go out, drawn to the thumping

and the infectious energy they promised. Karl

someone of his stature and

steps had a confidence, a surety to them that drew me in. The way

to the way he led our pack—with authority and finesse. Dancing with

or the music; it was an unspoken language

the feeling of being twirled under

The world outside ceased to exist; it was

that

my reverie, almost as though reading my

night away? Every weekend, sometimes even on

nodding. “I remember. You’d spin me around till I was dizzy, and we’d laugh

about anyone watching.”

chuckles, his grip tightening around my waist for a brief

that club downtown. We danced

ached and our clothes were

surfaces, and I can’t help but giggle. “God,

we left.”

“Well, dancing wasn’t the

sweat, was it?”

widen in mock horror, and I smack his chest, feigning

and the flush that creeps

rings in my ears, warm and infectious, and I find myself

up a glare.

down, replaced by the soft hum of the music and the steady beat

our breaths mingling.

a split second, everything else fades

reminding me of the boundaries, of the lines we’ve

that I’ve drawn.

pull away, breaking the magnetic

notice how hungry I feel, or maybe because I want to change

toward the fridge. “Are you hungry?” I