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

lovable personality…” he sneers

will

is clear, and the gleam in his eye

my cheeks as

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

this competition. Tell us, what has this

gaze lifts to the audience, to the sea of faces that

with my name now thanks to my failures,

leaves a hole in

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

just as wide and bright as ever, and she still holds up

in her tiny hand, a grin spread

my throat,

I’m here, even if I

I’m here for her.

competition,” I start, my voice surprisingly

As a female chef in

have been here. To show that we—” I

stand toe to

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

inspire others. That future female chefs will

making sure our skills—and our

also respected.”

ripple through the crowd,

maybe it’s just the sound of anticipation

results.

voice then cuts

to the judges as

of

eyes lock onto mine, his expression an

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

and my world seems to tilt for what feels like

looks on with a cool

of

me in a nod so

a trick of the

I can’t look at Daniel, can’t

girl in

draw strength from her innocence, her belief in

hangs for what feels like an

as though drawing it out for dramatic