Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Abby

The stage lights feel even more blinding now from the tears in my eyes. A

makeup artist darts around, dabbing my face with powder to cover the streaks

from crying. In more ways than one, I’m glad this hell is almost over; right now,

I’m just looking forward to getting this damn makeup off.

Finally, the director counts down from three, and it feels as though we’ve done

this a million times before. The crowd cheers, the music plays, the announcer

struts across the stage. And me? I’m standing here like a statue, my smile just

as fake as my manicured eyelashes.

Enter title…

Daniel stands next to me, shoulder to shoulder, and I can feel the hatred

emanating off of him. He stands tall and proud, the perfect picture of arrogance.

He doesn’t say a word to me, because he doesn’t need to. He already said

everything he needed to say earlier. He got his digs in, made his sharp words

stab me to my core. There’s no point now.

I can sense the satisfaction coursing through his veins as he stands beside me,

the realization that he won—not just in the competition, but in life—washing over

both of us. In just a few minutes, he’ll get exactly what he wants. Not only a

trophy, but to beat a woman down to nothing.

The announcer turns to Daniel first, his voice echoing across the studio. “Daniel,

you’ve shown immense skill throughout this competition. As we come to a close,

how are you feeling about your performance?”

Daniel’s lips twist into a smile that doesn’t even come close to reaching his

eyes.

without skipping a beat. “The true winner today

than just a lovable personality…” he sneers subtly, casting

will be a

and the gleam

my cheeks as the crowd applauds.

mine. “Abby, you’ve become a favorite for

us, what has

the audience, to the sea of faces that seem to

signs with my name now thanks

a hole

little girl in the

are just as wide and

hand, a grin spread across her

my throat, but I push through… because I’m

I’m here, even if I don’t

I’m here for her.

I start, my voice surprisingly steady, “has

female chef in this

to have been here. To show that we—” I

can stand toe to toe with

the air tasting thick. “And

That future female chefs will

skills—and our voices—are not only

also respected.”

crowd, a murmur of acknowledgment,

it’s just the sound of

results.

announcer’s voice then cuts

His eyes flick to the judges as

of

eyes lock onto mine,

even blink. Instead, his head

world seems to tilt for what feels like the millionth time

looks on with a cool

for the briefest of

me in a nod

trick

hands are trembling. I can’t look at

find the little girl

I draw strength from her innocence, her

The pause hangs for what feels like an eternity

out for