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

since I told him that I couldn’t

thought. When he speaks, his voice is filled with

of surprises, but

Let me

by his words but the genuineness in his gaze. “You’re not still mad about

other day?”

hair. “A bit, yeah. But this isn’t about

right words. “…Doing

but only if you promise not to

replacing the annoyance in them.

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

cocoa powder. The batter

luscious.

of teamwork and teasing. There’s an unexpected

laugh at each

the batter is poured into a mold, and it’s slid into

flour-covered hands

of flour. “How about a little fun

a cloud of white powder is flung at me, dusting

of my nose. I stare at

shock giving way

I look

my lips betray me.

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

of flour and, with all the

right at

The flour smacks him square

the kitchen is shrouded in silence—then both

laughter.

before we know it, we’re engaged in

in every direction, settling on counters, the floor,

everywhere.

chaotic, but it’s also… freeing. As

back in time.

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

fights and end up laughing on the floor. And then, almost always, laughter would give

intimate closeness.

my cheeks as flashes

quickly turn away, the reminiscing threatening to reveal emotions

to keep

baking time is nearly up. “Okay, okay! Truce!” I

hands raised in surrender.

toe in flour, grins. “Fine,

we’ve made. “Look at this! Now, who’s