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

told him that

When he

“Look, I might not be a fan of surprises, but I can’t bear to see

Let me

taken aback, not only by his words but the

other day?”

a hand through his hair. “A bit, yeah. But this

the right words. “…Doing something nice.

in his voice warms my heart. “Fine, but only

mischief, replacing the annoyance in them. “Wouldn’t

his hands quickly and then moves to stand beside

the right amount of cocoa

luscious.

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

each other’s quips and

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

brushing my flour-covered

a cupped hand full of flour.

a cloud of white powder is flung at me, dusting my

of my nose. I stare at

giving way

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

escaping my lips betray me. “You’ll

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

scoop up a generous handful of flour and, with all the strength I can muster,

it right

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

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

laughter.

before we know it, we’re engaged in

white powder fly in every direction, settling on counters, the floor, the

everywhere.

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

back in time.

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

and end up laughing on the floor. And then,

intimate closeness.

warmth fills my cheeks as flashes of those memories—of

the

trying to keep

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

hands raised in surrender.

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

the utter mess we’ve made.