Teriyaki Ribeye Steak

The 'Roseville Diner' sign flashes red and white, little round bulbs outlining each letter. It's a typical fifties diner, complete with red leather seated booths and a tiled floors. I can see that it's already buzzing with people, and the smooth sound of old Frank Sinatra music floats through the air as I approach it.

I open the heavy glass door in trepidation, pulling my bag through quickly behind me before it gets caught. Every surface gleams, and the smell of burgers wafts towards me. The huge selection of ice creams on the counter has me craving the stuff: soft pink ripples of raspberry and cream, velvety chocolate fudge, creamy mint studded with dark chocolate chips, and heavenly coffee bliss are only a few of the flavours on display.

Groups of teenagers are huddled around booths and tables, chatting and laughing. Coupled with the clatter of metal cutlery on ceramic plates, the occasional bang of the door, and the soft music drifting from the radio half concealed behind the cash register, it creates an animated symphony of energy and brightness. My brain turns the sounds and liveliness into a challenge of colour and canvas – how could I capture this scene with a brush in my hand and an easel in front of me? Pastels? Oils? Maybe neither, maybe just a pencil and watercolours.

I walk towards the kitchen doors, hoping to see some sort of office appear along the way so I can check in with the owner. Apparently I'll be waitressing, which isn't too bad, I suppose. Hopefully my clumsy nature will decide to hibernate for a while.

I'm spared looking for someone as the doors fling open in front of me. A beautiful woman appears, holding a file under her arm and a plate covered with suds in the other. She has dark red hair which curls elegantly down her shoulders, and skin as white as porcelain. Her eyes, dark green and framed by thick lashes, are narrowed, her slender eyebrows furrowed in irritation.

"Zachary Goode! Come over here right now," she calls. I vaguely register the name but can't place it. Nobody appears and the woman huffs in frustration. She taps her foot impatiently on the ground, scanning the tables. Pausing suddenly, she spots me, almost hidden in the booth closest to the kitchen. She gives me a puzzled look and I step forwards.

"E-Excuse me, ma'am. Sorry to… disturb you. I was looking for someone to speak to about my new placement here? My name's Cammie Morgan."

Recognition lights up her face and she smiles.

"Ah, Cammie!"

"Yeah, that's me," I smile uncertainly.

"Oh, I'm Catherine Goode. I own the place, and I am actually," she winks, "your next door neighbour."

I freeze. Goode.

"What a coincidence!" I force a laugh. This is not funny. At all. Next door neighbour… Horror hits me as I realise who she is, who Zachary is.

"Zach!" she calls again. I'm not surprised he's not coming over – it's getting loud in here.

"That boy." She shakes her head before looking at me. "Now, Cammie dear. I know we had you down as a waitress, but we have a slight issue. One of our chefs is ill today, and I can't seem to find Zach," she closes her eyes, "anywhere."

"How… inconvenient."

"Yes, quite so. Very inconvenient. And I can't find Zach anywhere. This is a disaster."

"Is there anything I could do?"

She smiles suddenly. "You wouldn't mind cooking for us today, would you?"

"Um…"

"Great!"

"Wait, what? I can't – " I try to protest but she talks over me.

"Go on! You'll be fine." She shoves me inside and the doors thud closed behind me.

xxxxx

Chaos. Total chaos.

That's how I'd describe this kitchen. Hell's kitchen.

Everywhere I turn, someone is shouting and gesturing vigorously. Pots and pans litter the worktops, and every oven is switched on. The smell of chips mingles with fresh baked cookies, and puffs of flour emerge from each workspace, little white clouds of almost edible dust. The clang of metal and the rushing of tap water rise and fall, and the buzz of voices on top of that create an overall loud effect.

I'm a mouse in the home of a freaking dragon.

I don't know the first thing about cooking. I can make beans on toast, yeah, and I'm fine at soup - you just bung everything together and boil it, right? But this… how am I supposed to make cookies or whatever? The last time I tried that, I ended up burning the chocolate in the microwave and frying the oven. Don't ask me how. And I don't even want to think about the time I tried making brownies with my friend during a sleepover. Poor Jemma. I don't think she quite recovered.

The point is, what am I going to do?

A rotund man walks over to me, cheeks pink and chubby fingers wrapped around a wooden spoon.

"What are you doing in here, young lady?"

"I'm the new waitre- chef."

"The new what now?" he says suspiciously.

"The new chef. Cook. Person. Thing." I sigh impatiently. "Look, I was meant to waitress but Mrs Goode told me I should sit in for the person who isn't in today."

"I see."

"You see. That's it?"

He ignores me. "What's your name?"

"Cammie."

"Alright, Cammie. I'm Arnold. I'm head chef. I want you to go over to that worktop over there," he points towards a small area in the corner, " and make me a Teriyaki Ribeye Steak."

My stomach drops. "A-a steak."

"Teriyaki Ribeye Steak, yes. You'll find the herbs in the cupboard, the meat in the freezer, the recipe – if you really need one – in the drawer, and I'm sure you can work the oven. Get an apron on and make me some steak. You have half an hour," he snaps, and leaves me to my doom.

Okay, first questions first. What is teriyaki? I mean, I'm sure I've heard of it before. But what is it? Is it green? I saw this leafy stuff, but for some reason, it doesn't feel right. Is it yellow? I've got some powdery yellow spice stuff but I don't know...

I stare hard at the recipe again.

Marinate steak.

Cook steak.

Cut steak.

This is obviously for someone who knows the recipe. Stupid Arnold.

I throw the recipe on the counter and scream internally. I can't screw this up, but I have no idea how to make this thing. So... Let's improvise.

I grab a carton of milk and a few herbs from the cupboard, a few beginning with 'T', and fling them all in a pot. I turn the gas on and start heating mixture, stirring it and adding a bit of pepper like I saw Nigella Lawson do once. Or at least, I think it was her. It turns a murky green colour and I cringe. Okay, improvising over.

I hear the doors open again and I turn, terrified it's Arnold expecting the dish to take out to the customer, but it's not. It is someone considerably worse.

Could this day get any worse?

Tall, dark, and undeniably handsome, Zach Goode weaves his way through the kitchen. Seems like his mother found him, then. He greets the workers by name, smiling and laughing with them. He grabs a tray of cookies from a little old woman with steel coloured corkscrew curls and takes a bite. I can hear his exclamation from here.

"Mmm, you did good Louisa." His smooth voice makes my toes curl. I watch, and as he comes closer to me, I panic. He'll see me, he'll recognise me. Damn it.

I turn back around to my fail of a steak and hope against hope he doesn't see me. But of course, luck is not on my side today.

"And who do we have here?" he asks. He's still holding the cookie tray, and he's already eaten about half.

"Nobody," I mutter. I'm still preoccupied with what is fast becoming a culinary disaster, and I haven't any time for mindless chit-chat.

"Well, Nobody. What're you doing to that poor bunch of mint leaves?"

Mint leaves? I thought I was using parsley. "I'm trying to make Teriyaki Ribeye Steak," I say crossly.

"Honey, you need teriyaki for that," he says pityingly. "Cookie?" he asks, holding out the tray.

I turn angrily, irritated beyond belief with this stupid, stupid steak and this... this boy. I briefly forget about my embarrassing first encounter with him and snap at him.

"First off, don't 'honey' me. Second, no, I do not want a cookie. And third: I don't know what the hell teriyaki is!"

I see surprise flash across his face as he sees my face, his eyes narrowing as he tries to place my face to what should be a very distinct and rather recent memory. My cheeks heat up and I fold my arms across my chest as he stares, and my eyebrows furrow as I worry what he's going to say. The mortification of the curtain incident and the window ordeal makes my cheeks burn even hotter, and I wish the earth would just open up and swallow me already.

However, a huge and unexpected smirk makes its way onto his lips, and he places the cookies on the counter, coming way closer than necessary. And as he replies, he looks and sounds positively wicked.

"Well, Mystery Curtain Spy. I think you'll be needing a new pan." And he leans over, unties my apron, and plucks the pan out of my hands.

A/N Thank you for reading! I'm glad you all liked the last chapter (and Adam). This is a really short chapter but it was a little difficult to write so please excuse the absolute terribleness! I feel like it's really abrupt...

I won't be able to update for a week now, because I'm going on holiday, so expect an update next Wednesday or maybe a little later. Sorry! Please feel free to tell me what you thought in a review, and don't forget to favourite and follow!

lovewords: Omg thank you so much! I love long reviews! And yours was way too nice. I'm so happy you liked Adam, and don't worry, it's all sorted ;) definitely fluffy, and definitely Zammie!

gallaghergirl614: Thank you! And of course there'll be Zammie ;)

Guest: Thank you so much!

OhNobody: Thank you :) yes, he really is pretty adorable! They're so awkward it's funny.

miaadventure: Haha glad you found him so! He was meant to be ;) and I'm thinking... Cadam? Can't believe you're already thinking of ship names whoop whoop.

Teenage Gallagher Girl Spy: Thank you very much.

Sarah: Aw, such a nice review again! You're too nice to me! I'm so happy that this story makes you happy, it's such a great thing to hear and I can't believe it. I hope everything's good for you, and thank you! *virtual bear hug*

BooksLover2000: That means a huge amount! For my chapter to be called pristine... #goals, tbh. Thank you!

CammieBishop: Thanks :) and good question! Personally, I actually don't know. My story is meant to be totally cliché, but then again, why is Zach labelled the jerk in a cliché story to begin with? I like your question so if anyone can think of a good answer, go ahead!

Indigoandvioletskies: Thank you! I'm so glad it made you smile, that's all I want! Adam is a total cutie, I agree ;) and no, no Josh in this story. I don't like him... Sorry!

Fanficlover4602: Wow... Thanks Jazzy! That's amazing... I'm a little shocked. I've never had anyone fangirl over me replying to them before!