Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 200

Abby

With Anton’s words of encouragement still fresh in my mind, I take a deep breath, gather my composure, and push through the door back into the party.

The music and chatter rush back over me like a wave, and I feel a sense of deja vu wash over me. It’s as if I never left, as if I never took that detour into the alley to escape the sight of Karl and Shana dancing together.

My eyes begin to scan the room for Karl, but I don’t see him amongst the crowd, which has thickened since I was last here. It seems as though more guests have arrived, and for a moment, I almost consider rushing back to the kitchen to check in on my team.

But I can’t. I know that’s just an excuse, a way for me to get out of having to confront Karl.

Suddenly, however, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I whirl around, Karl’s name on my lips, but it’s not him.

It’s Logan.

“Kar—Oh, Logan,” I say, straightening a bit. “Hello. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

He smirks. “I figured as much. You seem like you’re looking for someone.”

“I… I was,” I manage stiffly, resisting the urge to look around more. “But it doesn’t matter. How are you enjoying the party?”

Logan stares at me for a moment, a knowing look in his eyes, before he lifts his champagne glass slightly and offers me a slight smile. “It’s a nice party,” he says. “The food is good.”

Good. That’s really all he has to say? That, after all of the shit I went through, the food is ‘good’?

But then my mind wanders back to Vanessa, how she mentioned that Logan was an advocate for me, and I feel myself soften.

I take a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Actually, I… I wanted to thank you, Logan,” I begin. “Vanessa said that you advocated for me.”

Logan studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. He says nothing for a few long moments, and then what he says next leaves me reeling.

“Did you talk to ‘Ken?’” he asks, raising his fingers in quotation marks in the air. He clearly knows, but how could he not? Surely he put two and two together by now. I just hope he’ll keep it to himself, which seems to be the case, thankfully.

I swallow hard, feeling a bit caught off guard by his question. “Er… Yes,” I reply, my voice soft. “He explained what you said that day, about my passion, and I agree with you. I need to reconnect with my passion for cooking.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of Logan’s lips, and his eyes seem to hold a glimmer of approval. “Good,” he says. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I’m not entirely sure what he means by ‘hold you to that,’ but I nod, determined to take his words to heart. But before I can ask for clarification, he’s being pulled away by someone else, and I’m left standing here, wondering about his words.

What does he have in mind? Will I see more of him in the future?

But I can’t waste my time wondering about this. I need to find Karl. I whirl around and continue scanning the room, and then I see it.

There he is, Karl, standing near the center of the dance floor. Our eyes meet across the room, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. I can’t help but wonder if he’s still with Shana, if they were just taking a break from dancing, or if something has changed in the short time I was gone.

But there’s no time to waste wondering about it. He’s coming toward me, and without thinking, I’m headed toward him, too.

As I approach him, my heart quickens, and my mind races with a thousand questions and emotions. But as I get closer, I realize that Shana is nowhere to be seen. It’s just Karl, walking toward me, looking at me with a mixture of surprise and anticipation in his gaze.

Time seems to slow as we approach one another, but neither of us stops. My heart is practically pounding out my chest.

We finally meet in the middle of the dance floor, and for a moment, neither of us knows what to say. The music envelops us, and the soft glow of the overhead lights turns purple to match the slow beat of the song, casting a romantic, intimate atmosphere around us.

Karl breaks the silence, holding out his hand to me. “Abby,” he says softly, his voice hardly more than a whisper, “may I have this dance?”

I look at his hand, then back into his eyes, searching for answers. But all I find is sincerity, a flicker of regret, and a hint of something else that I can’t quite place. Without a word, I place my hand in his, and his arm loops around my waist.

For a few moments, we just sway together, our bodies pressed together like two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly. I can feel eyes on us, but I don’t look away from him, and he doesn’t look away from me. We’re close enough to kiss, but we don’t. We just gaze at each other, each of us too stunned to speak.

And then I notice it.

“Wait, is this…?” I begin, to which Karl nods, a slight smile flickering across his lips.

“It is,” he says. “I noticed it, too.”

The song playing is one that used to be very meaningful to us during our relationship. I can’t help but remember the times we danced to it in our living room, holding each other close, feeling the warmth of his embrace. The memories flood back, and I can’t deny the bittersweet feeling that washes over me.

Karl breaks the silence again, his voice low and heartfelt. “Abby, you look stunning tonight,” he says, his eyes and fingers tracing the lines of my gown. “I should have never made you hide your beautiful body when we were together. I’m so glad to see you come into your own now.”

I feel my cheeks flush at his compliment, and I look away, unable to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Karl,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “Things have changed since then, haven’t they?”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yes, they have,” he says, and there’s a hint of regret in his eyes. “But maybe it's not too late to make things right.”

We dance for a little while longer, lost in our own little world. More people join us, and soon we’re surrounded by other dancing couples, and Shana is still nowhere to be found.

“Shana…” I begin, but Karl shakes his head.

“She left,” he explains. “She’s in love with someone else. We mutually agreed that it wouldn’t work between us.”

I’m about to respond when the door suddenly opens, and my gaze darts to who’s coming in. My eyes widen when I see him.

“Is that Ethan? Your brother?” I ask, pointing.

Karl turns, and his face lights up. He nods, and we both stop dancing, too shocked to move. There’s Ethan, Karl’s brother who has been in a coma for years. He’s in a wheelchair, but he looks as alive and vibrant as well.

And then, to my shock and disbelief, someone—a woman—pushes his wheelchair into the room. Karl and I both freeze, each of us stunned when she pushes her hair over her shoulder and reveals her face, her snakelike eyes scanning the room.

Karl and I turn to face each other, our eyes wide with shock.

“Gianna?”