Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Abby
The director holds up three fingers, his mouth moving silently as he counts
down to live. Three... two... one.
“And... we’re back!” The announcer’s voice booms across the studio, and the
audience erupts into cheers and applause as an assistant holds up cue cards
out of the camera’s view. “What a whirlwind first round, folks! Let’s give a round
of applause to our winners so far: Abby, Bryan, and Daniel!”
The announcer’s voice then turns our attention toward the contestant who lost
last round. “It was a tough loss for Frederick, but that’s the nature of the game!”
he says.
Enter title...
The judges then come into the spotlight, and Logan’s words slice through the
warmth of the stage lights.
“The first round was child’s play,” he says. “Now, we begin to separate the good

eggs...” His eyes skewer me from across the room, and I resist the urge to look
away. “From the bad.”
Karl’s eyes flit over to me, but I ignore them. I keep my smile plastered on my
face, urging myself to ignore the ghost of Logan and Daniel’s words, to place my
entire focus on the real reason why I’m here: to win.
Vanessa’s tone, by contrast, is a comfort. “I expect the best from all of our lovely
contestants,” she says, her smile sweeping the stage. “And most of all, let’s
appreciate why we’re here today: to celebrate cuisine in all of its forms.”
As the judges return to their stand, the announcer draws in a deep breath.
“Contestants,” he starts, the studio falling eerily silent. “We’re about to sweeten
the pot! Forget the entrees; we’re diving into desserts this round! A limoncello
and pistachio tiramisu is your challenge!”
A murmur ripples through the crowd, and a knot of anxiety begins to twist in my
gut.
“Dessert?” I repeat softly, my mind racing through the preparations that I wasn’t

expecting to make until the third round.
Karl leans in, his whisper barely audible over the buzz of the audience. “Didn’t
see that coming, did we? You’ve got any dessert tricks up your sleeve?” he
asks.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Maybe one or two, but tiramisu is
a whole different beast,” I answer. “Luckily for us, I’ve practiced this recipe. So I
think we should be okay.”
Karl grins, the tension leaving his eyes for the first time since the
announcement. “And that’s why you’ll win; because you’re always prepared.”
“Yeah, well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I murmur.
I take in the array of ingredients that I didn’t have a chance to properly
familiarize myself with this morning: the standing mixer, the fragrant spices, the
proofing rack. I begin making a list in my head of what I’ll need, which spices will
best suit the flavor, what I could incorporate for an extra kick that will make my
dish stand out.