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 my mind,

him that I couldn’t

he speaks, his voice is filled with

of surprises, but I can’t bear to see someone struggling

not you. Let me

aback, not only by his words but the genuineness in his gaze.

other day?”

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

words. “…Doing something

“Fine, but only if

glint with mischief, replacing the annoyance in

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

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

luscious.

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

blossoms as we laugh at each other’s quips

batter is poured into a mold, and it’s

flour-covered hands on

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

what he means, a cloud of white

the tip of my

shock giving way to

and amused. I look at him, my expression feigned outrage,

lips betray

room, a deep, infectious sound. “Bring it

scoop up a generous handful of flour

right

flour smacks him square in the face, rendering

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

laughter.

two, two becomes four, and before we

every direction, settling on

everywhere.

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

back in time.

our old shared kitchen resurface—of simpler

floor. And then, almost

intimate closeness.

my cheeks as flashes of

quickly turn away, the reminiscing threatening to reveal emotions

trying to keep

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

hands raised in surrender.

in flour, grins. “Fine, truce.

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