Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

“Okay, Abby. Let’s get everything in place. Farro mafaldine, black truffle butter, and the mushrooms,” John

says, his hand passing over each individual ingredient—and lingering over the coveted black truffles—as

he speaks.

I nod. My body feels like it’s about to burst, I’m so excited. “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” I say. “If

we can just nail this dish, the cook-off is ours.”

Karl chuckles from the sidelines. “No pressure, huh?”

John and I share a quick glance and a collective breath before diving in.

He works on preparing the handmade pasta, expertly feeding the farro mafaldine through the machine. I

focus on the mushrooms, slicing them with surgical precision before turning to the star of our dish: the

black truffles.

Enter title…

them fall into the

intoxicating, filling the room and making my stomach

finally complete. John and I step back, looking at the

black truffle butter, and

goes nothing,” I say, scooping a generous portion onto

each pick up a fork, the atmosphere between us thick with

know something is

to wince in response. The black truffle butter, rather than enhancing the dish

the dish with a dirty,

instinctively, my eyes going wide as I ch ug a glass

taste of soil. “Oh, this is bad. This

face mirrors my sentiments, his eyes widening as he puts his fork down and swallows

but the slight grimace

serve this,” I mutter, already dumping the disgusting dish into the trash.

I didn’t realize they could overpower a dish so

let’s try again,” John suggests, surprisingly lighthearted despite the

of black

start by making adjustments

the ratios of

attempt. The three of