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

the recent confusion between us is

since I told him that

thought. When he speaks, his voice is

might not be a fan of surprises, but I can’t

you. Let me

taken aback, not only by his words but the genuineness

other day?”

sighs, running a hand through his hair. “A bit, yeah. But

right words. “…Doing something

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

the annoyance in them. “Wouldn’t dream of

stand beside me. With deft

cocoa powder. The batter

luscious.

it’s a blend of teamwork and

blossoms as we laugh at each other’s quips and focus

into a mold, and it’s slid into the

brushing my flour-covered hands

holding up a cupped hand full of flour. “How about a little fun while we

cloud of white powder is flung

hair, eyelashes, and the tip of my nose. I stare at Karl in

giving

amused. I look

betray

room, a deep, infectious

scoop up a generous handful of flour

right at

is comically slow. The flour smacks him

the kitchen is shrouded in silence—then

laughter.

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

fly in every direction, settling on counters,

everywhere.

it’s chaotic, but it’s also… freeing. As we duck, dodge,

back in time.

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

floor. And then, almost

intimate closeness.

cheeks as flashes of

me. I quickly turn away, the reminiscing threatening to reveal

trying to keep

at the oven, noticing that the cake’s baking time is

hands raised in surrender.

grins.

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