Ziyah's POV
Even though Daya's here my mom is following her routine of locking herself in her room for a business call. I don't mind one bit since she's been talking Daya's ear off and saying shit she sure as hell knows is meant to be private. Angela followed her lead, but she's now in her room playing candy land with Sofia leaving me alone with Daya in the living room.
We're on on the sofa watching reruns of friends, but I'm not paying attention to a thing these white mother fuckers say because I'm stealing looks at Daya who's beautiful as fuck which is normal for her. She's like on another level today and it's probably because she's in my house and fits in like I expected her to.
Daya turns to me as the commercials come up. "Can we watch something else?" She asks the question I was low key afraid to say so softly.
"For sure." I grab the remote and hand it to her making her face light up some more. She scrolls through and I don't know how she does it, but she picks my favorite white 90s show, Reba.
"Are you good with this?" She asks.
I nod. "Mhmm this is my shit." Something I will only admit to her.
We watch for a little bit, and then Daya turns to me with shock all over her face. "I get why you like Reba."
"Hmm, why?"
"Because It's literally your life. Single mother whose oldest has a baby, she has three kids, two girls one boy. You're jake!" Damn she hit that one right on the nose. That's the truth, the show is the white Texas version of my life, and Daya has to be the only person I know who watches the show making me like her and her thick glasses more. I've had little flings and shit through freshman and sophomore year with girls Lucas set me up with, but they were nothing like this. None of those girls could compare to Daya, and I sure as hell wouldn't spend hours drawing them.
"It's your life too," I say and her face scrunches up in that cute way I like.
"How?" I don't want to point out the similarities, and saving me from doing so I see the lightbulb go off in her head. "Mom with three kids, dad has a baby with another woman, that's why I like tv it takes away the bad parts or emphasizes them to make them funny and watchable."
"Yeah."
We watch Reba for some minutes, and sure I like the show and all, but really I don't want to stare at a screen when I'm with Daya. I'm also not capable of staring at the screen when I'm with her and end up looking at her.
"What?" She asks in her little soft voice when she catches my dumb ass staring at her. Shit I don't feel bad though, she's my girl, she looks hot, and I want to look at her.
"Nothing i'm just glad you're here." That big old smile comes across her face.
"I'm glad I'm here too," she says and lays her head on my shoulder. She really loves my shoulder for some reason, but I don't care as I can now smell more of her coconut scent. Damn that's nice.
Out of nowhere a random question comes to me, one that kind of makes me sound like a bitch. "So what did you and my mom talk about?"
"Me," she says. Shit she's going to make me work for this one.
"What about you?" Daya lifts her head off of my shoulder to look at me more.
"Just about me and my mom, and my energy." I should've saw that coming, my mom loves feeling people's energies and running around the house with sage. Being that she does have a thing for this I'd have to say her and Daya's conversation probably revolved around Daya's mom's or as she introduced herself Ms.Price's tense energy that I caught onto real quick. That could just be me though.
"Your mom seems cool," I lie. Her mom was in and out the door so fast, but from the greeting she gave me I can tell I won't be getting any compliments from her.
"She's my mom and I love her but, I just wish she was happier." Before I can put her feelings at ease her phone buzzes, and her look tells me this moment is ending.
"Your mom's here?" I raise my eyebrows.
"Yea." We get up and I kiss her twice, I'd go for a third, but the doorbell rings, and my mom comes down the stairs.
"Aww Daya it was so nice meeting you," my mom says and gives Daya a huge hug. I give my mom a look that says, "I got this," and she goes back upstairs to her business call. I open the door and Daya's mom's whole energy changes the mood as she's standing there on her phone which I can't really judge her for because my mom is upstairs on hers.
"I'll text you when I get home," Daya whispers one of those pathetic side hugs. Her mom on the other hand plasters a fake smile on her face as Daya goes besides her. I see the resemblance, but really Vince looks more like her.
"Daya go wait in the car," she scolds and Daya waves at me before walking off. I struggle to keep my eyes off of Ms. Price who is not the Price I wanted to be staying on my doorstep.
No hello or how was your day, and she begins to talk. "Ziyah you seem like a nice guy and my daughter is oddly infatuated with you, but don't think I won't be watching you closely for however long you're together," she says and after putting another fake smile she struts off. Yeah, she's just like her son.
I get up to my room and sit in my spinning desk chair replaying that whole scene in my mind. It's crazy how just minutes ago I was on top of the world with Daya laying on my shoulder and now I want some damn weed or something stronger.
As I spin in the chair I get why I'll never be like by Daya's mom or Vince. It isn't simply because I'm the fragile daughters boyfriend, but because the daughter is too good for me. I could tell in the way her mom looked at me, at my dreads, that I disappointed her. Even in my house with a drawing of her daughter I'm not good enough. Probably from the first moment Daya told her about me she was disappointed because she wanted her daughter to be dating a William not a Ziyah. And maybe that would be best for someone as amazing as Daya to be with someone who could offer her more, more than a drawing and more than a glasses cloth. Daya would object to this, but I see the way guys look at her in school and I know it's true.
Daya's POV
After a silent car ride where my mom didn't bother asking what happened in Ziyah's house we get home. Awaiting us is Vince and Dani who both jump up from the couch when I open the door. I believe everything went well of course I'm only regarding my talk with Ziyah and Rose. I worry about what my mom said to Ziyah, but I won't press it because after all he's the guy who drew a whole portrait of me my mom shouldn't have any bad things to say about or to him. Then again I haven't told her about the portrait so whatever she said after I got in the car is based on her first impression.
"So how did it go?" Dani asks before my mom can put her purse down.
"I don't know, how did not cleaning the house go?" My mom gestures to the coffee table that has Dani and Vince's plates on it. They don't hesitate and place the orange plates in the sink before coming back with the same looks of curiosity at my mom and I. Vince's look is more directed to me and his it's filled with condescension. He guides mom to the coffee table he just cleaned off, and they both plop down on the couch. With curiosity for my mom's opinion I also take a seat on the couch, and Dani tries to sit on mom's lap but settles for the carpet.
With a bit of fear I start the conversation off. "So what did you think of Ziyah?" And with that my teeth begin to chatter.
"Hmm he's not what I expected," is all she says before going back on her phone and my teeth chatter more.
"That's it?" Dani asks with a look of disgust. That's what I'm thinking.
"That's it," my mom states so nonchalantly and not in her usual tense manner.
There has to be more, and she's just hiding it. Or maybe she has nothing to say because my dad had already approved Ziyah when I told him about how he makes me walk on the inside of the street. My parents aren't the best at communication and mom didn't seem to be happy about meeting Ziyah so I doubt my dad told her.
For the rest of the night she doesn't say anything to me and she's entered one of her angry moods. We all walk on glass as she types on her laptop making that the only sound in our apartment. She does this at the dining table making it off limits until I get a water bottle from the many waters on the floor. We don't put the bottles away we just leave them in the plastic container. I get a bottle and the sound of the plastic moving defeats the sound of my mom's keyboard.
"Daya do you mind?" She shouts, but it's not like the funny shouts Vince and I do at our dad's. She's shooting daggers at me and I put my hands up.
"I'm sorry," I say softly.
Her scold remains and as I walk back to my room I hear her say, "You should be sorry for your bad taste in boys." I keep walking, but on the inside I want to yell at her and tell her about the portrait, the walking on the inside of the street, the compliments, and all the things that make me want to be in Ziyah's arms instead of storming off into my mom. If she didn't provide for me I would make sure she knew when she's not able to give her daughter any spirit Ziyah is.