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

lived with Karl, the servants and guests were always

leftovers.

finally breaks the silence, his voice

me, and probably has been for some

“You’ve clearly been up to something huge here lately, and I’m

know. Why keep me

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

off the band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I

one of the finalists to compete to

for a fraction of a second before his expression smooths over

right now. “That’s great, Abby. I’m proud

had hoped

all this time—that he’d prefer that I go to the Alpha party with

instead of catering it.

mean it,” I p rod,

said I’m proud of you,” he retorts, clearly

but your tone says

through his hair. “Look, I wanted to go to the Alpha party

date. This whole catering thing sort of ruins

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

that he really has changed, that he would be

of making it

to go to

The Alpha party is a big deal. I thought it

his eyes locked onto mine.

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

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

understand,” he says, turning away from me for a moment. “But what about us?

thought you wanted to go with me.” His voice rises with

the empty kitchen.

I murmur. “I’ve told you countless times

between us.”

low and strained,

you’ve just been keeping me on a string this whole

through. And let’s not forget

wince at his words. The memory of our night right here in this kitchen whirls through my

it felt to have