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

told him that I couldn’t have sex

thought. When he speaks, his voice is

be a fan of surprises, but

you. Let

taken aback, not only by his words but the genuineness in his

other day?”

running a hand through his hair. “A bit, yeah. But this isn’t

right words. “…Doing

voice warms my heart. “Fine, but only if you promise not to mess

the annoyance in them. “Wouldn’t dream of

hands quickly and then moves to stand

the right amount of cocoa powder. The batter comes

luscious.

blend of teamwork

we laugh at each other’s quips and focus on perfecting

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

brushing my flour-covered hands on my

grins, holding up a cupped hand full of flour. “How about a little fun while we

white powder is flung at me, dusting

the tip of my nose. I stare at Karl in wide-eyed disbelief,

giving

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

escaping my lips betray

fills the room, a deep, infectious

a generous handful of

it right

flour smacks him

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

laughter.

handful becomes two, two becomes four, and before we

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

everywhere.

madness, it’s chaotic, but it’s also… freeing.

back in time.

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

the floor. And

intimate closeness.

my cheeks as flashes of those

turn away, the reminiscing threatening to reveal emotions

to keep at

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

hands raised in surrender.

flour, grins.

gesture at the utter mess we’ve made. “Look at this! Now,