twenty two

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𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐕

INVITING Y/N over for a home-cooked meal on our first date was a good idea in theory. However, that plan shattered quickly when I remembered I can't cook for shit and the only thing I can make is pancakes. But I promised her dinner and I sure as hell am not going back on my word. This is what I get for trying to impress her.

I texted her to come over at 7:30 so now I have a little over an hour to whip something up.

After flipping through the one cookbook I own, I gave up on it and decided to make the pasta bolognese that Rossi taught me how to make years ago. I never wrote down any directions or the recipe but it can't be that hard to make. Right?

I got out the ingredients I remember us using and chopped all the vegetables before cooking the meat. As I boiled the water for pasta I went upstairs to change and touch up my makeup. As I walked up the stairs I could feel my nerves kicking in. What the hell? I don't get nervous.

I immediately went to my closet and picked out a red dress that I haven't worn yet. I headed to the bathroom and touched up the curls in my hair and my makeup before retreating back into the kitchen. It smelled good so that has to be a good sign.

I added everything together in the pan and some additional spices that I found in my pantry. I grabbed a spoon to try it and-

Fuck, this is disgusting.

I threw the spoon into the sink as I frantically ran around my apartment trying to find my phone.

"Dave I need your help." I practically yelled into the phone. I had 10 minutes till Y/n came and I would rather not serve her something disgusting.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I tried to make the spaghetti bolognese you showed the team how to make a couple of years ago-"

"You mean my famous Pasta D' Rossi?"

I would have rolled my eyes if I had time but right now I really needed to fix this, "Yes, now back to me. I didn't have a recipe so I kind of winged it,"

He was silent for a moment, "Emily, you out of all people cannot wing that recipe."

"Well, I know that now! Why do you think I called you?!" I yelled into the phone.

"How about I just send you the recipe and you can start over."

"I can't start over! I need this finished in like ten minutes!" I groaned as I paced through my kitchen.

"Why? What's in ten minutes?" Dave asked and I fell silent. I heard him chuckle through the phone. "Oh, Is this about a certain doctor you were in the bathroom with earlier?"

At this point, I was so energized I didn't have room to be embarrassed. "Yes. It is. And I would rather not scare her off with a poorly made meal so will you please help me?!"

"Emily, from the way Y/n looks at you, I highly doubt anything you make will turn her away from you," Rossi said softly, and as much as I wanted to take in his words of encouragement I really just wanted to fix this fucking meal.

"Not that I don't appreciate you being sentimental but I kind of need to fix this." I huffed out as I went back to the pan.

"Got it, what does it taste like?"

"Bad."

"Okay well, that's not very descriptive. You didn't overcook the pancetta did you?"

I frowned as I looked at the pan, "Wait, what's pancetta again?"

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