Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 67: Crossroads
Abby

The tension in the room feels palpable, a thick curtain of unsaid words and unexplored emotions

hanging in the air between Karl and me. My grip tightens on the knife handle as I glance at the chaos of

ingredients strewn across the counter.

“Tell me first,” I blurt out, wanting to avoid the inevitable confrontation as long as possible. “What are

you doing here? The restaurant closed hours ago.”

Karl sighs and shakes his head, walking past me and over to the line. I watch as he bends down

behind the counter and disappears for a moment, muttering to himself, before he stands back up and

holds something up in the air: his wallet.

“Dropped this earlier,” he says, slipping it into his pocket. “Wanted to come back and make sure it was

here. Now it’s your turn. What are you doing here at…” He glances at his watch. “One o’clock in the

morning?”

I swallow, glancing around at the ingredients and half-cooked dishes all around the kitchen. The sink is

full of empty dishes from failed attempts, the trash can is practically overflowing with said failed

attempts, and the various successful attempts are lined up on the adjacent counter for pictures to keep

in mind for presentation ideas.

“I, um…” I find myself choking up slightly. “I’m just practicing,” I half-lie. “Wanted to test my skills.”

Karl raises an eyebrow. “And waste all these ingredients? You’re not that type of chef.”

I nearly curse out loud. Karl is right; I’ve never been the type to waste ingredients.

Even in the past, when I’ve gone on creative cooking sprees, I would never just throw things away

when the dishes don’t turn out perfectly. There’s a food pantry right down the street that I visit

and when I lived with Karl, the servants

leftovers.

as well tell me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the silence, his

he’s onto me, and probably has been for some time. Probably since

to something huge here lately, and I’m starting

Why keep

knife down, my eyes meeting his. There’s no point in avoiding the

well rip off the band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, wiping

one of the finalists to compete to cater the Alpha

fraction of a second before his

decipher right now. “That’s great, Abby.

lacks the warmth I had hoped for, and his smile

I can sense what I feared all this time—that he’d prefer that I go to the Alpha

instead of catering it.

it,” I p rod, my own words edged with a

said I’m proud of you,” he retorts,

your tone says otherwise. What’s

through his hair. “Look, I wanted

date. This whole catering thing sort of ruins that, though, doesn’t

some reason, even though I expected this sort of response from him, I’m

really has changed, that he would be genuinely happy for

making

upset because you wanted to

just any party, Abby. The Alpha party is a big

eyes locked onto mine.

didn’t forget,” I say. “But this competition… It could be

and everything. I’m sorry, but I hoped that you would

understand,” he says, turning away from me for a moment. “But

something to you too? I thought you wanted to go with me.” His voice rises with each

the empty kitchen.

Karl,” I murmur. “I’ve told you

between us.”

though?” His voice is low and strained, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

just been keeping me on a string this whole time, giving me

through. And let’s not forget what

The memory of our night right here in this kitchen whirls through

me of how it felt to have him close