Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 55: Flour Fight
Abby

The ambiance of the restaurant after hours is one of muted stillness, a stark contrast to its bustling

daytime persona.

I absolutely cherish these moments, where the world seems to fade, and it’s just me and my culinary

creations.

Tonight, it’s not about a new dish or preparation for the next day’s service, nor is it even about the

upcoming cookoff for the Alpha party competition.

Instead, it’s personal. Chloe’s birthday is tomorrow, and there’s no way I’m going to let it slide without a

special treat. Hence, the covert operation: baking her a surprise birthday cake and finalizing our party

plans.

The ingredients lay sprawled on the counter: flour, sugar, eggs, chocolate, vanilla extract, and a myriad

of decorations. I’ve decided on a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting—her absolute favorite.

As I start mixing the batter, a shadow unexpectedly looms over me.

Startled, I nearly drop the whisk. Turning around, I’m met with the piercing gaze of Karl. He stands

there, his arms crossed, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity evident in his brown eyes.

“Karl!” I exclaim, caught off guard. “What are you doing here? It’s late. You scared me half to death.”

He arches a brow. “Could say the same about you.”

Flustered, I reply, “I could ask you to leave since I literally own the place.”

His smirk is both infuriating and charming at the same time. “Trying to pull rank on me, Abby? Really?”

“Well, what do you want?” I sigh, not in the mood for his banter, especially given our recent encounter.

Instead of answering, he glances down at the mess on the counter, then back to me, eyes softening a

little.

“Baking a cake, huh?”

I nod, rolling my eyes. “Observant, aren’t we?”

“I can help,” he offers, surprisingly sincere.

“With the way you reacted the other day? I think I’m good, thanks,” I respond, a little sharper than

memory of the recent confusion between us is still fresh in my mind, the way

him that

he

surprises, but I can’t bear

you. Let me

but the genuineness

other day?”

his hair. “A bit, yeah. But this isn’t about that. It’s

for the right words. “…Doing something

warms my heart. “Fine, but only if you promise not to mess it

brown eyes glint with mischief, replacing the annoyance

hands quickly and then moves to stand beside me. With

just the right amount of cocoa powder. The batter

luscious.

teamwork and

at each other’s quips and focus

is poured into a mold, and it’s slid

brushing my flour-covered hands

hand full of flour. “How about a little fun

a cloud of white powder is flung at me, dusting my hair

the tip of my nose. I stare at Karl in wide-eyed disbelief,

giving way

amused. I look at him, my expression feigned

my lips betray me. “You’ll pay

laughter fills the room, a deep, infectious sound. “Bring it on,

word, I scoop up a generous handful of flour and, with

it right

The flour smacks him square

second, the kitchen is shrouded in silence—then both of us erupt in

laughter.

four, and before we

every

everywhere.

but it’s also… freeing. As we duck, dodge, and counter-attack,

back in time.

of our old shared kitchen resurface—of simpler times when we used to engage in

floor. And then, almost always, laughter would give way

intimate closeness.

warmth fills my cheeks as flashes of those memories—of tangled

away, the reminiscing

to keep at

glance at the oven, noticing that the cake’s baking time is nearly up. “Okay,

hands raised in surrender.

flour, grins. “Fine, truce. But only because

I gesture at the utter mess we’ve made. “Look