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

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

angrily since I told him that I couldn’t have

When he

I might not be a fan of surprises, but I can’t bear to see someone struggling

Let

only by his words but the genuineness in his gaze. “You’re not

other day?”

hand through his hair. “A bit, yeah. But

the right words. “…Doing something nice.

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

mischief, replacing the annoyance in

his hands quickly and then moves to stand beside me.

cocoa powder. The

luscious.

hour, it’s a blend of teamwork and teasing. There’s an unexpected ease between

as we laugh at each other’s quips and focus on perfecting

poured into a mold, and it’s slid into the preheated oven. “Now, we wait,”

my flour-covered hands

cupped hand full of flour. “How about a little

cloud of white powder is flung at me,

eyelashes, and the tip of my nose. I stare

giving way to

I shriek, both shocked and amused. I look at him,

my lips betray me. “You’ll pay

deep, infectious

scoop up a generous handful of flour

right

The flour smacks him square in the face, rendering him

a split second, the kitchen is shrouded in silence—then both

laughter.

two becomes four, and before we know it, we’re engaged

white powder fly in every direction,

everywhere.

but it’s also… freeing. As

back in time.

kitchen resurface—of simpler times when we used

fights and end up laughing on the floor. And then,

intimate closeness.

my cheeks as flashes of

I quickly turn away, the reminiscing threatening to reveal emotions I’ve

trying to keep

the oven, noticing that the cake’s baking time is nearly up.

hands raised in surrender.

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

at the utter mess we’ve made. “Look at this! Now, who’s going to