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.

a beat. “The true winner today will

a lovable personality…” he sneers subtly,

at me. “He will be a skilled

is clear, and the gleam in his eye

as the crowd applauds.

eyes meeting mine. “Abby, you’ve become a favorite

us, what has this experience

to the audience, to the sea of faces that

There are fewer signs with my name now thanks to my failures, and

hole

there she is—the little girl in the third row with her

eyes are just as wide and bright

sign in her tiny hand, a grin spread

my throat,

here, even if

I’m here for her.

competition,” I start, my voice surprisingly

a female chef in this

To show that we—” I pause, my heart

can stand toe to toe

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

inspire others. That

sure our skills—and our voices—are not only

also respected.”

ripple through the crowd,

Or maybe it’s just the sound of anticipation as

results.

voice then cuts

to the

out of

eyes lock onto

doesn’t smile, doesn’t even blink.

and my world seems to tilt for what feels like

champion, now looks on with a cool detachment.

for the briefest of moments before she leans toward

head inclining toward me in a nod so slight

a trick of

can’t look at Daniel, can’t afford to see the

little girl in the crowd, her eyes

I draw strength from her innocence,

winner is…” The pause hangs for what feels

as though drawing it out for dramatic effect. And then,