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

memory of the recent confusion between us is still fresh in my mind, the way that

I told him

down, momentarily lost in thought. When he

surprises,

not you. Let me

taken aback, not only by his words but the genuineness in his gaze. “You’re

other day?”

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

words. “…Doing something

“Fine, but only if you promise not to

with mischief, replacing the annoyance

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

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

luscious.

next hour, it’s a blend of teamwork and teasing.

as we laugh at each other’s quips

the batter is poured into a mold, and it’s slid into the preheated

brushing my flour-covered

a cupped hand full of flour.

means, a cloud of white powder

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

giving

and amused. I look at him, my expression

lips betray me.

room, a deep, infectious sound. “Bring it

word, I scoop up a generous handful of flour and, with all

right

him square in the face, rendering him

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

laughter.

four, and before we know

white powder fly in every direction,

everywhere.

but it’s also… freeing. As we duck,

back in time.

our old shared kitchen resurface—of simpler times when we

floor. And then, almost

intimate closeness.

fills my cheeks as flashes

I quickly turn away, the

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. But

utter mess we’ve made. “Look