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

with Karl, the servants

leftovers.

tell me, Abby.” Karl finally breaks the silence, his voice tinged

probably has been for

huge here lately, and I’m starting to feel

last to know. Why keep me in

meeting his. There’s no point in avoiding

I might as well rip off the band-aid now. “Okay, fine,” I mutter, wiping my hands on my

one of the finalists to compete to cater

eyes widen for a fraction of a second before

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

had hoped

sense what I feared all this time—that he’d prefer

instead of catering it.

like you mean it,” I p rod, my own words edged with

of you,” he retorts, clearly irritated

your tone says otherwise.

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

catering thing sort

reason, even though I expected this sort of response from

hoped that he really has changed, that he would be genuinely

making it

wanted to go to a

just any party, Abby. The Alpha party is a big deal. I thought it could be something

eyes locked onto mine. “And

heart pounds in my chest. “I didn’t forget,” I say. “But

everything. I’m sorry, but I hoped that

course I understand,” he says, turning away from me for a moment.

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

the empty kitchen.

‘us’, Karl,” I murmur. “I’ve told you countless times before that it’s not

between us.”

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

you’ve just been keeping me on a string

not forget what happened the other

our night right here in this kitchen whirls

of how it felt to have