Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 70: Soufflés and Heartaches
Abby

“Let me help you.”

Karl’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. Karl, of all people, wants to help me prepare for the competition

that we were only just arguing about? I can’t believe it.

“You’re joking,” I murmur.

Karl shakes his head, his eyes darting down to the failure of a souffle sitting between us. “Nope. Not

joking. Do you want my help or not?”

Part of me wants to accept his offer, but another part of me, perhaps the more logical part, decides that

maybe it’s not the best idea. I’m angry right now over my argument with Karl and this da mned souffle,

and I know that I wouldn’t exactly be the best kitchen partner tonight.

“I’m fine, Karl. Just a little tired,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Besides, you’ve been working all day. You can

head home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” he says quietly, sliding the souffle back toward me from across the cold

metallic counter. “I’m not tired, and home is boring. Let me help.”

I pause. I know that I should push him away and keep working on my own, not only so I can focus fully

on my preparations for the competition but also so we can both cool off after our arguments. But

something stops me. Maybe it’s the sincere look in his soft brown eyes.

“Sure,” I finally mutter, nodding. “I guess I could use some help.”

Karl doesn’t need to be told twice. I watch for a moment as he slips off his jacket, revealing his sinewy

biceps peeking out from beneath his short sleeves. I have to look away before I get too attached to his

image, and refocus my attention on my fourth attempt at making a souffle while he washes his hands.

Before I know it, the eggs and other ingredients are laid out before me, my whisk deftly beating the

eggs into a golden mixture.

“You know, I used to make souffles as a kid,” Karl says out of nowhere.

“You made souffles?” I can’t even begin to keep the surprise out of my voice. Karl rarely ever cooked

certainly never brought it up to me. “You

we were together.”

to make them all the time when I

he confesses, almost

one up?”

of me. “Sure. I’d love to

to work, skillfully separating the egg yolks from the whites,

care. I watch in amazement; the

at the souffle

dish, setting it on the counter. The souffle has risen

top a promise of

dips a spoon into it and extends

the flavors bursting in my mouth—cheesy, eggy, and utterly

gives the souffle a savory ta ng, but

of sugar so that the two opposite flavors meld together into a symphony

moment, all the tension, the

and the culinary

amazing,” I finally manage, breaking

was nothing. I was glad to

my apartment later that night, a stray thought

I need for the competition? He’s been getting better, and he knows

kitchen. And, even though we have our moments, we also

fact that we could function together as a well-oiled machine

he doesn’t have enough experience. It

as my sous

Right?

…

steaming cup of coffee as I walk into the

How are

with a grin, gratefully accepting the frothy coffee. “Had a successful

night.”

take a seat on one of the stools, her own coffee

“How so?”

with a souffle

He’s actually

thought?”

face tightens.

“Yes, why?”

told him to stay away from you, Abby. I thought I was doing you a favor. But apparently he

doesn’t listen.”

and a little annoyed. “You

about how you decided to go through with the competition. I told

should just pis

While I understand the sentiment behind them, something about

it’s because I only just told her that I needed to be trusted to make my