Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

Chapter 0227

Abby

We exit hair and makeup, and I can’t help but feel like an impostor beneath this mask of perfectly-

caked makeup. Just like yesterday, it feels like an uncomfortable facade, a porcelain mask covering the

real Abby. I can’t help but wonder to myself: why is this amount of makeup necessary for a cooking

show? Shouldn’t my abilities be judged, not my face?

I glance over at Karl as we walk out of the hair and makeup room. He’s still wearing his blue surgical

mask, but the makeup that I can see on his face is much lighter than mine.

“Geez, Abby,” he says as he looks at me. “You like like a…”

“Don’t,” I hiss. I don’t want to think about it, not now. Instead, I focus my attention on my chef’s jacket.

The fabric is stiff and a little itchy from the starching they put it through to look ‘camera-perfect’, much

unlike my own uniform, which is comfortably worn down after years of use.

“Need help with that?” Karl offers, his own jacket already perfectly buttoned.

“No, I’ve got it,” I snap, my nerves fraying. But after another failed attempt, I relent. “Okay, maybe I

don’t ‘got it’. Please help.”

Karl moves to button my jacket with a precision that borders on surgical. “There,” he says, stepping

back to examine his handiwork. “Perfect.”

But I don’t feel perfect; I feel like I’m about to come apart at the seams.

“Three minutes!” a production assistant yells from down the hall, waving a clipboard frantically.

Three minutes. The weight of the entire morning—the mad dash, the almost-car crash, the last-minute

change in sous chefs—crashes down on me.

My hands are shaking and my heart is pounding, this damn makeup is too thick and cakey, and this

stupid uniform is too stiff and itchy. I feel like a prisoner in my own body right now.

“I can’t do this, Karl,” I say, my voice quivering. “I’m not ready. I didn’t even get to familiarize myself with

my station yet like everyone else. How am I supposed to compete?”

“Abby, look at me,” Karl says, taking my trembling hands into his. His grip is firm, grounding.

I look up, and even with the mask, I can feel the intensity of his gaze, willing me to listen. “You’re one of

the most—no, you’re the most—dedicated, passionate people I know. You’ve been through so much

already just to get here, Abby. You can do this.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” I shoot back, pulling my hands away. “You’re not the one whose career is

on the line. If I fail today, it might destroy my restaurant’s reputation.” Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“You’re right, I’m not,” he says gently. “But I know what it’s like to have everything riding on one

moment. Trust me.”

“How? How can I trust everything will be fine when the whole morning has been a complete disaster?”

His words, in an odd way, make me feel at least a little bit at ease. He’s right; it is just one day. All I

have to do is do my best, get through it, and whatever happens, happens.

Right?

“Two minutes!” The production assistant is practically hyperventilating now. Reаd at Dramanovеls.com

I inhale a shaky breath, then nod and exhale. “Okay. You’re right. One day… I can get through it.”