The Sketchbook

Chapter Seven

Ashley's POV

Chapter Seven:

"Hello darling I'm Zayn's mother. You can call me Jade though if you would like," Zayn's mother said.

"I'm Ashley," I smiled at her.

"Oh trust me, I know. Zayn always talks about you," She smiled back.

"He does?" I laughed and looked over at Zayn.

"Mom you're not helping," Zayn said through his teeth.

"Come on kids let's go eat," Zayn's mother said before walking away

"So do you really talk about me?" I looked over at Zayn.

"I'm starving we should go eat," Zayn quickly changed the subject before walking away.

I laughed and followed him. We walked into a huge dining room that had a large table in the center of the room. I sat down beside Zayn. His mother brought out the food and sat down in the chair in front of us.

"Sorry Ashley my husband won't be able to make it to dinner tonight. I have to pick him up from the airport later," Zayn's mother said.

"That's fine," I told her.

I looked down at the white table cloth on the table. I wasn't quite sure how to do this. I didn't know how to have dinner with Zayn and his family. Almost every dinner i've had with my mom resulted in one of us leaving the room in a fit of anger. This was beyond different for me.

"Are you okay?" Zayn nudged me with his elbow.

"No- wait I mean yes. I'm fine," I told him.

"Okay," Zayn laughed. Zayn handed me a bowl of peas and I scooped some onto my plate. We all passed around bowls of food until everyone each had a spoonful of everything on their plate. I followed Zayn and his mother by putting their cloth napkin in their lap and eating. We talked a little while eating.

"We will do the dishes for you tonight mom," Zayn said once we were all finished eating.

"Oh thanks. I actually need to go pick your father up from the airport soon so I will be back later tonight," Zayn's mother kissed Zayn on the cheek and hugged me. "I'm trusting you two. Don't do anything," She said while walking away.

"Mom quit embarrassing me," Zayn sighed.

"Alright i'm sorry sweetie. You two are very responsible and I trust both of you. I'll see you two in a little while. Make sure to lock the front door once I leave," Zayn's mother said before leaving.

"She's so embarassing," Zayn said while locking the front door.

I laughed and walked back into the dining room. I stacked all of the plates and bowls on top on one another. I was about to pick them up until Zayn pushed my hands away.

"Allow me," He said. He grabbed all of the dishes and walked into the kitchen. I followed him and stood beside the sink.

"So what do you say about me?" I asked Zayn.

"What are you talking about?" Zayn asked while placing the dishes in soapy water.

"Your mom said you talk about me all the time. So what exactly do you say?" I looked up at him.

"Do you really wanna know?" Zayn asked.

I nodded my head and Zayn slowly leaned in closer towards me. His face was a few inches away from mine. He was finally going to do it. I thought he was finally going to make a move. Wrong. Instead of kissing me, Zayn rubbed the bubbles from the soapy water on my face.

"Zayn!" I laughed while wiping the bubbles off of my face with my hands.

Zayn laughed and handed me a towel. "You're so impossible," I said while I wiped my face.

I placed the towel on the counter and helped him finish cleaning the dishes.

"Come on," Zayn grabbed my hand again and started walking towards the staircase.

"Now where are we going?" I asked.

"My art room," He answered back.

We went upstairs and stopped in front of the door next to Zayn's bedroom door. He opened the door and we walked inside.

"You did all this?" I asked.

"Yup," Zayn replied.

I ran my fingers across over all the paintings that were leaning against the wall, some stacked on top of each other. There had to be at least fifty of them. Maybe even more. I walked past the easel and froze at what I saw.

It was me. It was a portrait of me and it was absolutely amazing.

"I forgot I had that out. You weren't supposed to see that," Zayn quickly grabbed the painting.

"No wait," I placed my hand on his. "I love it."

He sighed and put the painting down. He slowly sat on the ground and placed his head in his hands.

I sat beside him and placed my arm around his shoulders. "I really do love the painting," I quietly said.

"You probably think i'm a freak for making it," he said.

"No I don't. I think it's very sweet that you made it," I told him.

He sat back up and smiled at me. I placed my hands in my lap and smiled back at him.

"Would you like to know what I really tell my mom?" He asked.

"I don't know am I going to get a face full of bubbles again?" I asked.

"No," he laughed.

"Then I would love to know," I told him.

"I always tell her about how funny you are. About how nice and different you are," he said.

"Is different a good thing?" I asked him.

"It is. I like different," he answered.

"I like you too," I told him.

"Wait what? You like me?" He asked.

I nodded before grabbing his hands and kissing him.