Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

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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.

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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.”

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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

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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.

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