I'M VERY ANXIOUS to have Hamzah around for supper. It was the first time he had ever sat down and had a face-to-face conversation. Just my mother and I were there. Naturally, I couldn't deny that it would be uncomfortable.
This supper idea was offered by my mother. Not me. It's to "get to know him," she explains. However, my fear is that she may drop kick him as soon as he enters our house.
・❥・
On the other end of the line, he adds, "I'm outside, Mads." His voice was anxious, and I could tell. I was getting anxious from his anxiousness.
"All right, I'll be right down." I throw the phone on the bed after hanging up. I put on my cardigan to protect myself from the cold as I head downstairs.
Before I can get to the door, I see my mother walking toward it. My face changes to a more serious one, and I run as fast as I can. I stop close behind her, as she has already opened it. I press a palm to my forehead.
"Hi, Hamzah. Come on in."
I have no idea why she is acting so strangely. She has only ever spoken negatively about him, as if I hadn't been smashing him for four months.
Kidding. We've never done anything.
At last, his locks are free of that godforsaken beanie. He is wearing an open maroon collar shirt over a white singlet and basic loose pants. The chain against his collarbone on his neck makes me flush.
Listen. I know he never tries and enjoys dressing however he pleases, and I genuinely appreciate that about him. When he does, though, I can't help but blush. He does clean up real good.
Despite his momentary bewilderment, he accepts the invitation and grins at the woman in front of him. He comes much closer to me this time as he passes by.
"Hello," I say with a smile. He smiles and says "hi" in a gentler voice.
・❥・
As my mother advised, he sits at the end of the dining table, which is a suitable distance.
I'm not sure where this sudden niceness is coming from. What caused her to reconsider him?
Millions of questions were asked across the table tonight, which astonished me and I had no idea Hamzah was such a talker. He speaks as if he were a podcast host.
He probably has a podcast.
But then it hit me. He has a YouTube channel, although he rarely talks about it with me.
"So, when did you two...?"
Hamzah and I look at each other. When I ask him to respond mentally, he then raises his eyebrows in question.
"Oh, uh...we had a cabin together—"
Oh, shit.
Wrong thing to say to the wrong person.
"Alone—"
"Oh, no, no." When I eventually decide to join the conversation, I tell her, "Mom, there were two other people in our cabin."
Good save. Idiot.
・❥・
"Well, that was nice."
"Yeah, it was."
I smile while I wash and rinse a dish with soapy water. He removes it from my grasp and uses the tiny towel he is holding to dry it.
"Surprised she didn't bring up the car incident."
surprised she didn't uppercut you...
I reply, laughing at the idea, "she probably realized it was more of a parent issue and not you."
"Oh, right."
The more I consider the vehicle incident, the more I see that I was also involved.
"Does your father do dinners?"
Hamzah gives me a sidelong glance while a cocky little smile spreads across his face.
"You want to meet my parents?"
Rolling my eyes, I carelessly dump the dish I just cleaned with soap into the rinsing water. Several drops of water hitting his face and clothing cause him to jolt.
"What the f—"
I jump away from him when he dips his entire hand into the sink water and flicks it at my face.
