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…

but Anton

“Patience, my friend.”

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

and over again for decades now.

overwhelming at the same time. I could only ever dream of

scent of garlic and onions cooking in

I shoot Karl a glance. His

walls of his skepticism crack, if only a

eyes locking onto mine. “Would you pass me the white

Abby?”

into

stirs, a hint of a

to himself than to

stuck

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