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

out angrily since I told him that I couldn’t have sex

he speaks, his voice is

might not be a fan of surprises,

Let me

but the genuineness

other day?”

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

the right words.

but only if you

eyes glint with mischief, replacing the annoyance in them. “Wouldn’t dream of

and then moves to stand beside

amount of cocoa powder. The batter comes together beautifully, velvety

luscious.

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

each other’s quips and focus on perfecting the

and it’s slid into the preheated oven. “Now, we

flour-covered hands on

cupped hand full of flour. “How about a little fun

of white powder is flung at me,

the tip of my nose. I stare at Karl

shock giving way to

I look at him, my

lips betray me. “You’ll

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

scoop up a generous handful of flour and,

right at

reaction is comically slow. The flour smacks him square in the face, rendering him

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

laughter.

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

in every direction, settling on

everywhere.

also… freeing. As we

back in time.

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

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

intimate closeness.

flashes

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

trying to

the cake’s baking time

hands raised in surrender.

covered head to toe in flour, grins. “Fine,

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