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That morning, Emma woke up to something new, the smell of burning bacon. "Hot, HOT!" She heard a high pitched, panicked voice from the kitchen. Her eyes wandered around the apartment, picking up on a few details. She was on the sofa. There was a T.V in front of her. This was not her apartment. This was not her apartment! THIS WAS NOT HER APARTMENT!
Emma's abdomen shot up off the couch. Where... was she? It was so clean, even the carpet seemed to sparkle. This was, without a doubt, not her apartment. Her eyes stretched over the back of the sofa, to peek at whoever made the shrieking noise. There, standing over a brown countertop, was a boy. His hair seemed whiter than snow, and he had the most beautiful eyes. Although, he almost looked like a baby with his thumb shoved in his mouth like that. "umm," Emma spoke up, as the young man noticed her. She thought he was going to introduce himself, but instead, she watched as he ducked out of sight behind the counter. How cute, she thought, he's embarrassed.
Soon afterward, he popped back up, "My name is Norman. It is nice to meet you, Emma," he said robotically as if the line had been rehearsed a million times. His hand extended in a straight line even though she couldn't reach it from across the room.
In the background, two pieces of toast sprung up, and out of the toaster, completely blackened. The smell of burned everything filled the house, and it seemed that the microwave was emitting just a tad bit of yellow clouds. It was either a miracle or bad wiring as to why the smoke detector hadn't gone off yet. But, Emma could have cared less, in front of her stood a boy. She was sleeping in a strange man's apartment, the thought had hit Emma like a ton of bricks. She would have been furious: if not for the look on his face. It was abundantly clear, that he was a trainwreck at the moment, meaning that either, she had done something weird, or the responsibility of her breakfast was not something he had prepared for.
Putting the facts of everything that was happening at the moment aside, he was pretty cute. "I'm Ray's roommate!" he blurted, interrupting her thoughts.
Roommate...? Roommate! This was the Emporer guy she'd heard so much about! His name sounded scarier than the real deal. What had Ray called him again? Nightie? Naughty? Night hood? Oh right! "Night Owl!" She pointed to him, he let out a long groan.
"Why does he have to call me that name in front of you?" He whispered to himself. "My name is Norman," He told her as sternly as he could manage. "It's nice to meet you, Emma," he repeated, a bit more relaxed than last time.
They stared at each other for the longest time. It was like the world had stopped for the two of them at that moment. She gently jumped over the back of the furniture and went to shake his hand politely. "Nice to meet you, Norman. I'm Emma," She shone a bright smile to him, over the counter dividing them.
She remembered everything now, the girl guessed, the situation wasn't that complicated, was it? As far as she could tell, she was innocently playing videogames with Ray when she fell asleep. It was just like a long nap.
Norman began to radiate light with his cheeks tinted pink and his smile shining with joy. After their hands fell apart, he quickly put his face back onto a blank slate, and moved quietly to the dining table, just a meter away. Without the pesky countertop in the way, Emma could see his lower half. He was wearing a suit, with a yellow apron, sitting delicately over him. Normans rating from cute turned hot very suddenly, like rain in the middle of a dry season. For some godforsaken reason, Emma just found out that Norman in an Apron was hot.
"Done!" he called, Sitting on the table was a breakfast to die for, literally. Almost everything was scorched to the point where it didn't seem edible, and what wasn't torched, was undercooked. The bacon was shriveled and black, while what she thought was the pancakes, seemed to be too gooey to pick up and don't even get her started on the eggs. "Here," he called, pulling out a chair, "Take a seat." She sat down, in front of the toast she noticed earlier. "I know, it's a little bit on the crispy side, but..." he tried to come up with an excuse, only to fail before she shoved a bite of watery oatmeal into her mouth. If eating horrible food meant she could talk with him more, then she was about to have a feast.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Norman spoke, after the second bite. In Emma's eyes though, that was a challenge.
"I happen to like your cooking," Emma lied. Norman turned bright red and took her spoon. "Hey what are you-" Emma tried, only to have Norman shove the oatmeal down his throat, and vomit it back up two seconds later in the trash can. To her surprise, he soon threw every single dish into the same can. Stomping to the kitchen again, he took out peanut butter, jelly, and bread. Making two PB and J's took five minutes. he put the paper plate with the sandwich in front of her and went to sit down.
"From now on," He vowed, "Ray will do all the cooking, Here, here!" He raised his little food item like a glass of wine at a toast, and Emma Laughed.
"Here, here!" She repeated him and his steps. From then on out, She and Norman always had a PB and J for breakfast. Even after they got married, They never left the tradition behind. And it was all because guys in aprons are hot.