Like every other time I've taken my braids out Sawyer and are the only ones at home as I begin putting my fake hair into a Ralph's bag. Unlike every other time, it's Valentine's day and Harper keeps sending me beautiful pictures of her and Navia at the grove. They're both in cute red dresses smiling because they're so happy to be together proving all my thoughts about Navia not being into Harper wrong. Like the thoughts about Ziyah wanting to be with me.
Following my usual take out routine, I put my braids into four sections and keep my detangling comb right next to me. As Sawyer bounces in her playpen I breeze through the first two sections but stop when my phone begins to buzz. Going against my hopes that it's Ziyah wishing me happy valentine's day my mom's contact appears.
Mom: I love you and you're beautiful baby. Under that is a picture of a pink teddy bear like the ones my dad used to give me on Valentines day. I don't know why she's being all genuine all of the sudden, but a little bit of the stress I had leaves me.
Me: I love you too.
At least I have my parents who like me.
After a few episodes of My Little Pony which Sawyer is amazed by I put her in her crib, and start working on my last section of frizzy braids. As I unbraid I keep my phone right next to me to see more Valentine's day pictures. This time they're not just from Harper, but from Vince as well who is taking Vicki to Marie Calendars along with Jada and her baseball player.
The picture is of Vicki in the middle of scarfing down a huge piece of pie. There's whipped cream on her red glossed lips, and her eyes are so focused on the pie she doesn't see the camera. I should be holding my stomach laughing, but instead, I burst into tears. Damn. Valentine's day is stupid, and just a way for chocolate manufacturers to make more money, but the day would've been less dumb and pointless if Ziyah was watching me eat a slice of white chocolate raspberry pie.
He has still has yet to give me a solid reason for why we're on a break, and for now, that's fine with me because I already have plenty of reasons. Most of them are vain and have something to do with my appearance. Even with Ziyah's lack of explanation I still type up a letter every day, letters that are too perfect to be sent. Stopping the wave of thoughts about Ziyah and how good his arms feel around my waist, I knock out on the couch with most of my curly hair and a few braids left.
My eyes flutter open when Sawyer begins her little mumbles, and I remove my cheek from the kind of comfortable surface of my couch. Damn, that was a good nap. My mom's going to kill me for sleeping with my glasses on, but what she doesn't know can't hurt her. After doing a dramatic lawn I check my phone and shock comes over me as it looks like Vince's. Text light up my screen and while some are pictures of the people I know celebrating Valentine's day there are two texts from Ziyah and the second my eyes scan them I jump off of the couch.
Ziyah: Daya I know you're mad, but I want to talk. i'm coming over.
Ziyah: Harper was the one who told me you're home alone by the way.
Being assertive didn't seem to be apart of the many characteristics Ziyah possesses so props to him, but FUCK. If Harper wasn't enjoying her day eating macaroons I would take my anxiety out on her, but instead I begin pacing and biting my nails. Not only did I take 95% of my hair out, but I have tear stains on my face, crooked glasses from my nap, and to top that all off Ziyah's hoodie draped over me. Some common sense gets knocked into me, and I stop pacing and frantically take the rest of my braids out. The eye of the tiger blares in my mind as I budge everytime I hear a noise in fear Ziyah is on the other side of my door. This has to be the only time I don't want him to captivate me with his hazel eyes.
A part of me wants to tell Ziyah my dad said no,but his text was from 15 minutes ago, and my dad has been pretty chill lately since Vince's signing.
In a good amount of time I successfully take out the last of my braids before rushing into the bathroom. My frizzy dry curls hardly have any volume, but to my liking they have grown longer to the point they're touching my shoulders more. Ziyah doesn't live far giving me no time for washing and need for several combs from my detangling brush. My hands grow tired as I scoop all of my curls into a ponytail or really a poof ball. When I stare into the mirror no matter how restricted my baby hairs are there doesn't seem to be any change from when they were loose and wild. Tears start to brim in my eyes, but I suck them in in hopes that I'm also sucking in the vain too insecure girl who can only look beautiful in fake hair.
I wash my face scrubbing any traces of sadness on my skin and in the same place in front of the mirror. I try to think of the funniest things like Jada slapping Vince, Sawyer covering her eyes when it's too loud, and Harper being Harper, but none of that brings the same smile Ziyah brings to my face. After all I'm standing here trying to prove I'm the girl he spent hours drawing or at least I'm trying to convince myself of that statement.
Before I can fret over my appearance more I change into my Whitney Houston t shirt leading me to re doing my ponytail. I'm tucking my shirt in when my phone buzzes, and another gray bubble from Ziyah appears.
Ziyah: I'm Here.
Me: Okay, the gate is open.
A few minutes later there's a knock on my door, and it's 100% not the Amazon delivery guy. My teeth chatter as I begin to talk to the door, but I remind myself, "It's just hair, don't be superficial." I keep this in my mind until the rubber band that is holding all of my hair in one poof pops.
"I'll be a minute," I say not too loudly and run back to the bathroom. Of course all of the rubber bands have disappeared or have shrunken to a size that won't fit around all of my hair. I run into my dad and Tara's bathroom expecting there to be rubber bands in the damn hairstylist's bathroom, but no.
"Daya you good?" Ziyah says through the door reminding me he's about to be in the place I live.
"Yeah," I lie. My thoughts move from my frizzy curls that are now all out and more sad to the big bag of hair in front of the couch. The bag of hair that reminds me of when I got that text from Sofia and almost had a panic attack. I push the thoughts to the back of my head, and put my hair in a middle part before walking slowly to the door.
"Hi," I say when I open the door to see Ziyah leaning against the doorway on his phone. Probably playing temple run, because he loves that shit.
"Hey," he says and to my surprise he doesn't have any shock on his face as he looks me up and down. I gesture him in, and we walk over to the couch where we awkwardly sit with a good distance between us.
I look Ziyah up and down, and he looks adorable as usual, but the first thing I notice is the hair tie around his wrist. "Can I use your hair tie?" I ask and he doesn't hesitate to pull it off his wrist and give it to me.
"Thanks."
As I tie my hair up Ziyah doesn't hide his stare and finally speaks. "Why were you crying?" he asks refusing to look anywhere in my apartment, but at me. I clearly didn't wash my face good enough.
I can't even lie because I can tell in his face he knows the truth. "Why should I tell you why I was crying when you didn't tell me why you were sad or why you wanted a break?" I did not expect that to come out of me.
"Daya you know I'm not good at this feelings shit." I scooch closer to him on the couch hoping that he'll be more comfortable here.
"I know," I say and 1/4th of Ziyah's smirk comes to his face.
Feeling the need to relate I say, "Me either, but I'm willing to change that for you." A strand of one of my curls is loose, and flies in front of my eye, unexpectedly Ziyah pushes it back behind my ear. He does it in the same way he did it with my box braids proving the hair doesn't change a thing.
"You don't need to change anything for me Daya." Suddenly a wave of arguments flood my head instead of a simple thank you.
"You don't need to recite poems to make me feel better, If I don't need to change then why are we on a break." Ziyah's eyes widen which I don't think is necessary because it's a pretty obvious question.
"Daya, I... you know you're not the only one who does impulsive BS because of their insecurities." All of my words are now stuck at the top of my throat because my selfish ass never considered the break wasn't because of something I did wrong.
"I know, but," my mind goes somewhere else. "What are you insecure about?" We get closer and the next thing I know our hands are intertwined and his thumb is rubbing against my palm. I find it quite funny we're home alone, and this is all we're doing.
"Insecure is too depressing of a word, there's just some stuff about me I'm not a fan of." All Ziyah has to do is look in my eyes and know I want him to be more specific. He raises his eyebrows and I know he wants me to go first.
I take a deep breathe. "I've never really felt beautiful or as pretty as everyone else, but I don't want to go too into that." 100% of Ziyah's smirk is back on my face.
"Hey you started you might as well get as cheesy as you want."
For the first time since I got home a natural smile comes to my face. "I want to hear yours first."
Ziyah nods and then his face gets all serious. "I don't know how to explain, I'm not some shrink, but I know for a fact I'm not good enough for you." That couldn't be any further from the truth. He stops me before I can oppose. "And before you say you're not good enough for me, you should know I'm never going to believe that."
"How could you not be good enough for me? I just said I never really felt beautiful, because when I'm with you I feel beautiful and wanted." The last words come out lighter, and they're true but I feel bad for saying them. My parents work really hard to make me feel wanted, and they do, but Ziyah killed the thought in my head that said no one in school or outside my family would like me.
"Daya that makes no sense."
"What do you mean?"
"You're too beautiful to need me to tell you that."
"And you're too good for me to tell you that." Ziyah's smirk comes back hopefully to kill how cheesy this conversation is.
"Nah don't flip shit, on me tell me why." It takes me some seconds, but I tell him. I tell him how I care about my hair too much, and how I can't exceed a specific amount of sugar because I'm afraid of being fat again. As I tell him he listens to the reason why I quit instagram to stop comparing myself, and how I've idolized Vicki for some time. Ziyah Isn't even looking around at my slightly cluttered apartment and just focusing his eyes on me.
There's a moment of silence then I speak. "I want to be with you."
"I want to be with you too." Ziyah holds my hand again. It's exactly what I wanted to hear but his eyes tell me he's not finished. "Daya I want to be with you too, but I don't think it's time yet."
Hiding the tears in my sockets I manage to open my mouth. "Why?"
"Daya," before he can finish I already realize what the end of the sentence is.
"I'm not ready for a relationship," I barely whisper. I wanted to deny the words, but I know there true and the tears I wanted to hide fall down my face, and my face onto Ziyah's shoulder.
Eventually I stop crying, and I lay on Ziyah's shoulder watching Reba with his arm wrapped around me, and I realize like Lucky he doesn't give a fuck about my braids, my waist, or what I look like next to Unna. He doesn't care about the hours I spend comparing myself to people, the time in the salon chair, or the self deprecating shit I say. He doesn't care about all of the bad things I see in my mirror because he isn't vain like I might be, but the sweetest person there is, and for that I am forever grateful he saw my foggy glasses even if I can't call him my boyfriend yet.
The end for now...
The sequel New To This will be posted soon.
Thank you everyone for reading and voting on this book it really means a lot. I know it's not the best structured as it is one of my first novels. I hope you enjoyed this book, and my writing. I will be making edits on this book they might impact the storyline, but I'm not completely sure. If you want me to post a cast please comment. Have a great day â¤ï¸â¤ï¸ð