Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chatper 243

Abby

All I can do is watch, helpless, as Karl’s form recedes.

He’s being guided forcibly away by the firm hand of a security guard, and he’s

yelling something over the din of the crowd, the announcer, and the sounds of

cooking.

I can’t make out what he’s saying, but whatever it is, it’s frantic. But before I can

make sense of it, a microphone is suddenly shoved in my face, and the camera

blocks my view of Karl’s fading form.

“Abby, what’s happening? Does your sous chef often show such aggressive

behavior?” The announcer’s voice breaks through my train of thought, loud and

Enter title…

grating over the microphone. I feel frozen to my spot, unsure of what to do.

“I… Um… Excuse me,” I manage, pushing past the announcer and hurrying

toward the edge of the stage, toward where Karl and the security guard

disappeared to. But Mr. Thompson is already in my way, grabbing my arm and

yanking me out of the view of the camera.

“Abby, you can’t follow him,” Mr. Thompson hisses, his voice low. “Get back out

there.”

“But I need to—” I begin, but the words are cut off.

“No,” Mr. Thompson cuts in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “What you

need to do is finish your dish. This will be handled, don’t worry.”

“But Karl, he—”

of,” he interrupts firmly. “The judges have

stop. You must continue or

mind races. “But I can’t cook without

now. “It’s not fair. Daniel still has his sous

with a regretful shake of his head, “those

not up to me. You do want to

from me now. It doesn’t feel right to

all on my own. I need a sous chef.

okay,” I say. “He would never hurt

This—this is a farce!”

don’t have to pretend anything,” Mr. Thompson

it?

at the station, at the unfinished dish lying on the counter.

the stage—all of

right; I can’t just abandon

you have to go back,” Mr. Thompson

with concern. “You know Karl would want you to finish

without him.”

fleeting second, letting his words anchor me to

is right,

I say, though each word feels hollow, even

the dish, but I won’t let this lie.

one of them.”

says, squeezing my shoulder. “I’ll look into

Personally.”

around and run back on stage, where

me all this

at me from

the timer hasn’t paused for even

wasted several minutes

I murmur as I dash past the camera

time bomb, a countdown to an explosion that

I feel utterly

Daniel’s station, I catch his eyes. He and his

sous chef cooking with one hand,

shoots me that look with that knowing

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