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

recent confusion between us is still fresh in

since I told him that I couldn’t have sex

When he speaks, his voice is filled

“Look, I might not be a fan of surprises, but I can’t bear to

Let

but the genuineness in his gaze.

other day?”

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

words. “…Doing something

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

eyes glint with mischief, replacing the annoyance

to stand beside

just the right amount of cocoa powder. The batter comes together beautifully,

luscious.

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

blossoms as we laugh at each

and it’s slid into the

brushing my flour-covered hands on my

cupped hand full of flour. “How

I can process what he means, a cloud of white powder is flung at me,

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

shock giving way to

both shocked and amused. I look at him, my

my lips betray

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

I scoop up a generous handful of flour and, with all the strength I

right at

is comically slow. The flour smacks him square in the

is shrouded in silence—then both of us erupt in peals

laughter.

before we know it,

of white powder fly in every direction, settling

everywhere.

also… freeing. As we duck,

back in time.

old shared kitchen resurface—of simpler times when we used

laughing on the floor. And then, almost always, laughter would give

intimate closeness.

as flashes of

away, the reminiscing threatening to reveal emotions I’ve

to keep

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

hands raised in surrender.

though covered head to toe in flour, grins. “Fine, truce. But only because you said

the utter mess we’ve made. “Look at