Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 222

“I just can’t believe this is happening,” I say, my voice breaking a little. “This is like some sort of nightmare.”

“Yeah, it is,” Anton agrees, the exhaustion evident in his voice. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”

The timing is beyond terrible; it’s catastrophic. I close my eyes for a moment, taking in the sounds around me—the muffled chatter of people on their morning commute, the distant laughter of a group of teenagers on the way to school, the soft cooing of a baby.

Life is moving on, unfazed by my little disaster. I wish I could say the same for myself. Because right now, I feel like I’m trapped in a motionless void of suffering.

“Well… you need to rest, Anton,” I finally say, resigned. “Focus on getting better. This... this is just one of those things. Bad luck, or fate, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Yeah, bad luck doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Anton mutters.

“Alright,” I say, swallowing. “Get better, Anton. See you.”

As I hover my thumb over the red ‘end call’ button on my phone, a thought suddenly strikes me. “Wait, Anton, how come I’m not sick? I ate the same food everyone else did, right?”

“You didn’t eat the seafood dish, did you?” Anton’s voice has a trace of realization in it.

“Seafood dish?” I think back to last night. “Oh right, the one with shellfish. No, I didn’t. I’m allergic.”

Anton’s voice tenses. “That must be it, Abby. That has to be the dish that got us sick. Someone should check on everyone who ate that.”

A wave of dread washes over me. “Do you think everyone else is sick?”

“Now, let us not panic yet,” Anton counters, coughing a little. “I’ll send a group text. To check if anyone else is feeling ill.”

“You don’t have to do that, Anton. You’re sick.”

Leah: “I can barely get out of bed. What happened last night?”

My heart sinks further with each message. My friends are sick, my team is incapacitated, and the cook-off is in hours.

For a moment, I almost consider throwing in the towel and pulling out of the competition, like it’s a sign from the universe.

But I can’t pull out now; I’ve worked too hard for this opportunity. It’s not just about the competition; it’s about proving to myself that I can do this, that I am as good as I think I am.

As I stare down at the group text, though, one name doesn’t pop up in the chat. One person, a lifeline, someone who maybe, just maybe, might not be sick.

Karl.