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

than just a lovable personality…”

me. “He will be a skilled

clear, and the gleam

as the crowd

eyes meeting mine. “Abby, you’ve become

competition. Tell us, what

sea of

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

leaves a hole in my

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

just as wide and bright as ever, and

hand, a grin

can feel the lump in my throat, but I push through…

even if

I’m here for her.

my voice surprisingly steady, “has

As a female chef in this

here. To show that we—” I

can stand toe to toe with

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

others. That future female chefs

sure our skills—and our voices—are

also respected.”

the crowd, a murmur of acknowledgment,

Or maybe it’s just the sound

results.

announcer’s voice then cuts through the

is…” His eyes flick to the judges as he

of

lock onto mine,

even blink. Instead,

my world seems to tilt

once my champion, now looks on with

briefest of moments before she leans toward

inclining toward me in a nod

trick

I can’t look at

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

strength from her innocence, her belief in

winner is…” The pause hangs for what feels like an

drawing it out for dramatic effect. And