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

leftovers.

Karl finally breaks the silence, his voice

been for some

huge here lately, and I’m starting to feel

last to know. Why keep me

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

now. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, wiping my hands on

to compete to cater the Alpha

widen for a fraction of a second before his

great,

had hoped for, and his smile

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

instead of catering it.

rod, my own words

proud of you,” he retorts,

your tone says otherwise. What’s going on,

I

This whole catering thing sort of ruins

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

me that hoped that he really has

instead of making it

upset because you wanted to go to a

party is a big deal. I

shoots back, his eyes locked onto mine. “And

didn’t forget,” I

to be on television and everything. I’m sorry, but I hoped that you would

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

you wanted to go with me.” His voice

the empty kitchen.

“I’ve told you countless times before that it’s

between us.”

you, though?” His voice is low and strained,

keeping me on a string this whole time, giving me

And let’s not forget what happened the other

night right here in

it felt to