Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

A few minutes later, Anton’s hands are washed, his long hair is pulled back, and an apron is covering his

grimy clothes. Karl, John, and I are sitting on stools on the opposite side of the counter while Anton

inspects each ingredient carefully, like he’s preparing to build something magnificent.

Karl clears his throat, clearly itching to say something snarky but holding back for my sake. “So, Anton,

are you gonna cook this mystery dish? Or was all that just talk?”

Anton smirks, picking up a chef’s knife with a familiarity to his mannerisms that leaves me somewhat

taken aback. “Just watch.”

The room falls silent. John moves closer to get a better view, while Karl and I shoot each other a glance,

half out of respect, half out of disbelief. Anton’s fingers fly through the air, chopping onions, mincing garlic,

and handling the black truffles with an expertise that makes my jaw drop.

Enter title…

John begins, but Anton silences him with a raised

“Patience, my friend.”

like it. He’s not just cooking; it’s like he’s performing in

and over again for

I could only ever dream of being as skilled as

with the scent of garlic and onions cooking in olive

the truffles. My mouth waters uncontrollably, and I shoot Karl

the walls of his skepticism crack,

onto mine. “Would you pass

Abby?”

a generous splash into the pan. The

hint of a smile gracing

to himself than to us. “The real flavor

stuck to the

and before we know it, Anton is sliding the pan off the stove, stepping back as