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

confusion between us is still fresh in my mind, the way

I told him that I couldn’t have

in thought. When he speaks, his

be a fan of surprises, but I

Let me help,

words but the genuineness in his

other day?”

“A bit, yeah. But this isn’t

the right words. “…Doing

sincerity in his voice warms my heart. “Fine, but only if you promise not

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

and then moves to stand beside

of cocoa powder. The batter comes

luscious.

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

at each other’s quips and focus

the batter is poured into a mold, and it’s slid into the preheated oven. “Now,

my flour-covered hands on my

grins, holding up a cupped hand full of flour.

white powder

my hair, eyelashes, and the tip of my nose. I stare at Karl in

giving way to

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

betray me. “You’ll pay

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

of flour and, with all the strength I can muster,

it right

him square in the face, rendering him ghost-like

a split second, the kitchen is shrouded in

laughter.

and before we know it, we’re engaged in

of white powder fly in every direction, settling on

everywhere.

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

back in time.

of our old shared kitchen resurface—of simpler times when

fights and end up laughing on the floor. And

intimate closeness.

flashes of those memories—of tangled limbs and

turn away, the reminiscing

to

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

hands raised in surrender.

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

we’ve