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.

says without skipping a beat. “The true winner

than just a lovable personality…” he sneers subtly,

me. “He will be

the gleam in his eye is

creeps up into my cheeks as

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

what

lifts to the audience, to the sea of faces that seem to blur

name now thanks to

hole

in the third row with her chef’s

Her eyes are just as wide and bright as ever,

in her tiny hand, a

feel the lump in my throat, but I

here, even if

I’m here for her.

I start, my voice surprisingly steady, “has

As a female chef in

here. To show that we—” I

I can stand toe

breath, the air tasting thick. “And maybe, just

here will inspire others. That

our

also respected.”

ripple through the crowd, a murmur of

it’s just the sound of anticipation

results.

voice then cuts through the

His eyes flick to the judges as he pulls a small

out of

lock onto

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

tilt for what feels like

once my champion, now looks

the briefest of moments before she leans

something, her head inclining toward me in a nod so slight it

a trick of

at Daniel, can’t afford to see

there. Instead, I find the little girl in the crowd, her

from her innocence, her belief in

hangs for what feels like an eternity before

it out for dramatic effect.