The Recipe Book Guy

Chapter One

A/N

UNEDITED

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The sun shone through the window in the corner of my room, blinding me as I awoke from a deep sleep. It was Saturday, my favorite day of the week. The day where there is no cares for anything, and you are free to sleep all day.

Diving my head back into my soft pillow, I jumped into my thoughts. Trying to drag my amazing dream back to my memory.

"Em you're beautiful, and I would never leave you."

The man smiled. But it was as if all I could see in his dark sillohette was his pearly whites. Everything else was hidden under the darkness. That didn't matter, all I needed was this smile to make me fall for this mysterious man in my dream.

"My love for you will only die when I die, it will be brought to the grave with me."

Just hearing the silent words in my head made me smile. Whoever this person was sure had a way with words. But, like all dreams, it had a weird, horrible ending. A spotlight shone on his body, yet I still couldn't see anything but his smile. The rest of him was dark. His smile turned into a wicked grin, and an ear piercing sound occured.

POW!

And then it ended. Or at least what I could remember of it ended.

"Emberly!" Ha, yeah. Saturdays are so peaceful. Who am I kidding. In a house with my dad, nothing, is peaceful.

Grunting, I threw my legs off the side of my bed at my dad's voice. My body was itching to lay back down, but my common sense was telling me different. If I didn't get up I'd regret it later for sleeping in all day.

"Emberly what are you doing? You should've been up an hour ago helping me prepare! We've still got so much to do!" He sighed before continuing. "Come on, get up." I groaned at my dad's lack of realization. I just finished a whole week of exams, couldn't he give me a break? Knowing my father, I just replied with a simple 'OK', and got up to get ready.

Today was my neighbor, Shelby's, birthday party. My dad invited her to have it at our house since her's was undergoing renovations at the moment.

I went downstairs, prepared to face my dad.

Hearing banging in the kitchen, I quickly headed towards the noise. Walking in, I saw pots and pans everywhere, along with my very, stressed dad. Oh no.

"Dad... Did you try to cook?" Hearing my voice, he stopped moving and glared at me.

"Yes, what was I supposed to do? Wait for you to get up? For all I know that could've been another 4 hours." Ignoring him, I look to see what he has created.

To say my dad was bad at cooking was an understatement. He was horrid, at cooking. Since my mom died 8 years ago, I had learned to become a master chef. Preparing meals that-in my opinion-  should be served to the president. Cooking was my stress reliever-something I would do in my spare time if I had nothing else.

"What is this? It looks like somebody threw up their dinner, lunch and dessert."

"Really? I was trying to make those Lasagna Rolls you make." Despite the tension, we laughed.

"Yeah, how about this, why don't you go to the liquor store to pick up the wine and I'll take care of this....whatever it is." He just chuckled and nodded. "Oh yeah! Did you get the decorations?" He just sort of stared at me with this hypothetical look. Right. Of course he didn't."Ok well make sure to pick those up too. If you need any help call me." Again he nodded and left.