Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Abby

My body feels as though it doesn’t belong to me as I stalk to the breakroom. I

feel like a puppet on strings that have been cut, like my limbs are made of lead

and my body might give out from beneath me at any moment.

When I’m alone in the breakroom once again, though, I can’t contain my fury

any longer.

“Dammit!” The word explodes out of my mouth, and without thinking, I whirl

around and let my shoe connect with the wall. There’s a faint but satisfying

crack, and when I pull away, there’s a slight dent where I unleashed my rage.

Enter title…

It’s almost laughable, seeing how small the dent is. It’s like my own body won’t

even do what I want, let alone the ingredients on that stage out there.

My mind is whirling with so many thoughts that I barely even register the door

creaking open. But then that venomous voice, that voice that I’ll hear in my

nightmares for years to come, slices through the air like an arrow whizzing past

my ear.

“Oh, Abby,” Daniel says, the sneer audible in his voice without me even having

to look at him. I can picture him without even turning around, that horrendous

at the corners of his lips. “Having a

start, Daniel,” I hiss, leaning on the counter, still not

him.

he says, coming closer now. “I’m allowed to

concerned, aren’t I?”

to respond, but it seems as though that doesn’t satisfy Daniel.

beginning to crumble. “Boy, that sure was

there. You know, maybe it really should’ve been you dropping out,

have saved

clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms despite the

anchors me, if only a little. I

letting him see

continues, relentless as ever, his words dripping with

it? You

a—”

my eyes ablaze, my heart

next is vile, demeaning,

but a stupid little slut who belongs in the bedroom, not

culinary world,” he hisses.

shatters inside of me. My resolve has

I close the distance between us, my eyes shooting daggers at

trembling with the force of my

chef. And an even worse

widens, that infuriating, cocky smirk of a

“Struck a nerve, have

I can stop myself, I’m stepping

raised, my hand poised to slap him across the

a rat, a cockroach, a stain on

but he laughed

the nerve to spit slurs in my face like it’s

He quickly glances

see it—the flicker of doubt in his gaze,