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

us is still fresh in

I told him that I

lost in thought. When he speaks,

a fan of surprises, but I can’t bear

not you. Let

aback, not only by his words but the genuineness

other day?”

his hair. “A bit, yeah. But

words. “…Doing something nice.

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

brown eyes glint with mischief, replacing the

then moves to stand

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

luscious.

teamwork and teasing. There’s

blossoms as we laugh at each other’s quips and focus

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

brushing my flour-covered hands on

hand full of flour. “How about a little fun

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

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

giving

shriek, both shocked and amused. I look at him,

betray me. “You’ll pay

room, a deep, infectious sound.

of flour and, with all the

right at

smacks him square in

shrouded in silence—then both of us erupt

laughter.

before we

fly in every direction, settling

everywhere.

freeing. As we duck, dodge, and counter-attack,

back in time.

kitchen resurface—of simpler times when we used to engage

floor. And then, almost always, laughter would

intimate closeness.

fills my cheeks as flashes of

turn away, the reminiscing threatening to reveal emotions

trying to keep at

noticing that the cake’s baking time

hands raised in surrender.

grins. “Fine, truce.

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