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 way that

I told him that

down, momentarily lost in thought. When he speaks, his voice is

be a fan of surprises, but I can’t bear

not you. Let me

words but the genuineness

other day?”

“A bit, yeah. But this isn’t

right words. “…Doing something nice.

voice warms my heart. “Fine, but

glint with mischief, replacing the annoyance in

hands quickly and then moves to stand beside me. With deft hands, he helps

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

luscious.

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

laugh at each other’s quips and focus on

and it’s slid into the preheated oven.

my flour-covered hands on

hand full of flour. “How about a little fun

what he means, a cloud of white powder is flung at me, dusting

the tip of my nose. I stare at Karl in

giving way to

shriek, both shocked and amused. I look at him, my expression feigned

escaping my lips betray

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

of flour and, with all the strength

it right at

slow. The flour smacks him square in the face, rendering him ghost-like

shrouded in silence—then both of us erupt

laughter.

handful becomes two, two becomes four, and before we know

Clouds of white powder fly in every direction, settling on counters, the

everywhere.

also… freeing. As we duck, dodge, and

back in time.

resurface—of simpler times when we used to engage

laughing on the floor. And then, almost

intimate closeness.

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

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

to keep

glance at the oven, noticing that the cake’s baking time is nearly up. “Okay, okay! Truce!” I call

hands raised in surrender.

in flour, grins. “Fine, truce. But

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