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.

he says without skipping a beat. “The true

lovable personality…” he sneers

at me. “He will be a

message is clear, and the gleam in his

creeps up into my cheeks as the crowd applauds. The announcer

mine. “Abby, you’ve become a favorite

competition. Tell us, what has this experience meant to

gaze lifts to the audience, to the sea

signs with my name now thanks to my failures,

a hole in my

then, there she is—the little girl in the third row with her chef’s

eyes. Her eyes are just as wide and bright as ever, and she

her tiny hand,

can feel the lump in my throat, but I push

here, even if I

I’m here for her.

competition,” I start, my voice surprisingly steady, “has

chef in

been here. To show that we—” I pause, my heart in

“—that I can stand toe to toe

the air tasting thick. “And maybe, just maybe,” I

That future female chefs will push

skills—and our voices—are not

also respected.”

the crowd, a

it’s just the sound of anticipation as everyone waits for

results.

announcer’s voice then cuts through the

His eyes flick to the judges

of

Logan’s eyes lock

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even blink. Instead, his head gives

shakes, and my world seems to tilt for what

champion, now looks on with a cool

briefest of

me

trick of the

are trembling. I can’t look at Daniel, can’t afford to see the smirk

find the little girl in the

her innocence, her belief in

is…” The pause hangs for what

out for dramatic effect. And then,