Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chatper 251

Abby

My apartment is dark when I finally get home tonight. It still smells faintly of

fresh paint from the new coat that my landlord put on, but I can still sense the

lingering scent of smoke, too.

I decide to avoid the harsh glow of the kitchen lights as I plop the wine glass

that’s been tucked under my arm onto the counter island, followed by the bag of

takeout food that I picked up on my way home.

It’s still warm, the grease beginning to seep through the bag as the faint smell of

garlic and onions permeates through the air. On any other night, I might be

delighted to dig in; but honestly, I have no appetite tonight. Even the thought of

Enter title…

food makes me sick after everything, after all of the failed dishes. But I know I

need to eat, and if I don’t, I know I’ll regret it later.

For a moment, I dig through my cupboard for a plate and some silverware, but

eventually decide to opt out of the plate.

The cork gives a subtle pop as I open the wine. No glass, I decide. Not tonight. I

take a swig straight from the bottle, the sharp taste of alcohol momentarily

cutting through the numbness. It’s a start.

I crash onto the couch, the plush cushions a welcome comfort after being on my

feet all day. The TV flickers to life with a soft buzz a moment later, and I navigate

to drown myself in a

not sure how much time passes. Hours,

cheap wine, and even cheaper food. But the

truffle dish, the disdainful look in

Karl—keep playing in front of me, crowding

movies on the screen.

I whisper to myself as I take

look pathetic now, especially when I was so sure that

I lost, either; it’s

tussles were had, insults were thrown, and

were ignored.

a culinary laughingstock.

out of

couldn’t bear to go there tonight. I

with a

want to hide my head in

wine finally empties. I

is enough proof. Groaning, I push my way up

and shuffle into the kitchen, where another bottle waits for

too, and make my way

I’m standing in the doorway with the second wine bottle

TV, that I

back of

in misery, or are you going to keep

forward?”

sudden presence is like a slap to the face,

by

wine

loud and nearly

kitchen for a

could have warned me,” I say out loud as I grab the

and dabbing it into the

I’ve spilt

Abby?” My wolf’s

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