Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Abby

Applause begins to ripple across the studio audience, but all I see is Karl, sitting

in the back, staring down at me. He’s wearing a blue surgical mask, but I know

it’s him. I can tell by his eyes, by the way that my wolf stirs ever so slightly just

from looking at him.

“Wow, Abby,” Sarah says, drawing me back to the present, back to the interview.

“That was lovely. Your staff must be really grateful to have you.”

I shake my head. “No. I’m lucky to have them.”

“Well, that’s all, folks,” Sarah says, turning back to face the crowd. “Everyone

give a big round of applause for Abby, the owner of La Belle Vie Bistro!”

Enter title…

Another wave of applause washes over the room, smattered with a few cheers.

The cameraman gives me my cue, and I stand, waving as I jog off stage. Once

backstage, the assistant from before gives me a nod and a thumbs-up, then

points for me to head back to the greenroom.

As I head down the hall to the greenroom, I feel like I’m floating on air. So that

was it; that was the interview. I did it!

The greenroom is a modest room, furnished with a couple of sofas, a coffee

table littered with fashion magazines, and a snack bar.

The walls are adorned with photos of previous guests who came on the show,

from famous musicians to local artists. There’s a bathroom in the back, and

feeling like I’ll be sick now from the nerves of it all, I head to the bathroom to

cold water on my

and let out a sigh, knowing that this is

be headed to the

I feel as though the real

on my face to calm myself, I

jars me, but I can still see myself: just Abby,

army of amazing friends behind

head

hear a voice in the

a serious competition.

can’t afford to be distracted

My ears

chefs, who could she possibly be talking about? I

eavesdrop, but then

non-factor. No, seriously, have you

as though he’s listening to someone, likely

like it’s about to pound out of my chest as she

nothing but a fangirl with no real

but a silly little homemaker who can

help of her male chefs—one of whom is a

homeless man!”

room gets thick; his

a field dominated by men, and being beaten

me, but the essence of La

background, is part

resident ‘dirty homeless man,’ as he so

gifted chefs I’ve ever

fading. “I’m not worried about her.

in the slightest…”

that, Daniel’s voice fades away. I can hear his shoes clicking

they fade into nothing. Only then do I finally

shaking hands, letting out a

step out of the

it’s empty, feels like it’s shrinking. I stand

as though I can still

head like an awful,

Fangirl. Amateur. Homemaker. Silly.

into my stomach. How can