Vulnerable (Zayn Malik AU)

Chapter 13

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Daisy's POV

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"Sunday, you're coming over for dinner with my father."



"I am?"



"Well...can you? Please?" I took another bite of my sub, nervous for his answer.



"I actually get to meet him?" He raised his eyebrows, intrigued. 



"If you'll come." I smiled.



"I'd love to come." He beamed. "What should I wear?"



"I'm just gonna make something at the house so...casual."



"Is your dad, like, stuck up? Should I wear a button-up shirt?" The image of him all dressed up tickled my thoughts, but my dad would only make fun of him.



"No. My dads the farthest thing from stuck up. He's more chilled out. Just a t-shirt and jeans should do. Not super tight jeans though. That would be too much ammo for gay jokes."



"My jeans don't make me look gay, do they?" He said, running his hands along his tightly hugged black jeans as we stood up from the table.



"Nobody's clothes define their sexuality, but my dad's from another time where people thought stuff like that was funny. He'll take any excuse he can to make fun of you. Just don't make fun back. That's my job."



"Ok...well if I wasn't nervous before then I definitely am now." I laughed as he held the door open for me.



"Don't be nervous. He's gonna like you. As long as you're yourself. He always taught me that no matter how weird, obnoxious, or rude someone is, if they don't change their demeanor to please others, you can do nothing but admire that."



"As much as I like that..." His hand was on his neck. "I'm still scared."





•••••





It was Sunday afternoon. My dad was still asleep upstairs as I searched the cupboards for what I was going to make. Because dinner was around the time my dad would be waking up, we were having what we call 'brinner' - breakfast for dinner. I considered breakfast sandwiches, but I forgot to buy sausage (my dad wouldn't eat one without it), and I wasn't in the mood to walk to the store.



I decided upon my fathers favorite: biscuits and gravy. I found a roll of biscuits in the fridge and set out the ingredients of gravy. 


It was almost 4 so I knew dad would be up soon. I told Zayn to come at 5, that way my father had time to wake up and get all of his comments out early.



I walked upstairs, treading lightly as I knocked on the door. No commotion sounded on the other side, but it was already 4:08 so I knew my dad didn't set an alarm. He usually doesn't on his nights off.



"Dad?" I said, opening the door. "Hey. Wake up." I shook his shoulder.



"Mmmm." He whined into his pillow.



"I'm serious. Zayn's gonna be here in less than an hour."



"The dweebs coming over?"



"Yes! It's Sunday! Remember our deal?"



"That's right, brinner. Sorry. I kinda forgot." He rolled over, giving me a lovely mouthful of his 'morning' breath.



"Yeah. Brinner. Now get up and make yourself presentable."



"Say the magic words."



"Now, fucker." My cheeks immediately went red and he laughed as I walked out the door. Those words tasted bitter on my tongue.



"That's my girl!" I shook my head as I walked back down the stairs.



4:15. I had 45 minutes to make a meal that used to take my mom 20. I preheated the oven and grabbed a pan, laying out the dough that was pre-cut into circles. My mom taught me how to make this meal when I was only ten. She said that someday I would have to carry the recipe on to my children. I smiled at the happy memory. I don't have many of those.



The oven beeped signaling it was up to the right temperature, and I slid the pan in. Then, I pulled out a pan and cut up the bacon. My mom usually made it with sausage, but after she...left, I made it with bacon and my dad said it was much better.



"What's for breakfast?" I was startled by my dad coming off of the steps.



"What's it smell like?" I teased.



"Ahh my favorite!" He put an arm around my shoulders and took a dramatic whiff, waving his hand toward his nose. "You're gonna give this dweeb my favorite meal? You really think he's worthy?"



"Technically your favorite meal is disgustingly pasty, greasy tacos that are gonna end your life sooner than any drug or alcoholic beverage could." I made fun of his recipe for 'tacos'.



"Those tacos are delicious."



"Those tacos are a health hazard."



"Whatever." He laughed and took a seat at the table. "So when's he gonna be here?"



"Knowing him, 5 o'clock on the dot."



"Punctual?" He asked and I nodded. "Ha. Dweeb."



"What'd I say about calling him that?"



"So you really like this kid huh?" He asked, picking at his nails and completely avoiding my question.



"He's a nice boy." I smiled and stirred the gravy.



"You really don't help the whole dweeb thing. The way you talk about him...he sounds awful. Like this is gonna be the most boring morning ever."



"I think it's gonna be great. As long as you're nice." I scowled.



"Well then you couldn't be more wrong."



"Excuse me? FIRST OF ALL, wrong is an absolute state. Nobody could be more or less wrong, only completely and sufficiently wrong as a whole. But I'm not. I'm correct. You keep your attitude in check, and the evening - or morning in your case - will go just fine."



"Dude. I've been up for like half an hour. You can't throw words like that at me this early."



"Let me make it simple: BE NICE."



"I didn't hear the magic word."



"Please be nice, dad." He raised his eyebrows, waiting. I knew what he wanted, but I didn't want to give it to him. "Dad."



"Bring it on." He gestured his hand at me.



"Fine. Be nice or I'm gonna kick your ass." I turned away to hide my blushing face.



"Only because you asked ever-so-sweetly." He kissed the top of my head and went into the living room. "Plus, you kinda scare me." I laughed, even though he was being serious.



I heard the TV turn on, and walked in to see him sprawled on the couch. It was an odd sight...completely foreign. He hadn't sat on that couch since my mom was still here. He didn't need to what with having a 'man cave' upstairs and all.



The oven beeped and I ran to remove the biscuits. I was too preoccupied when the doorbell rang to handle that as well. It was either burn the food or get the door.



I assumed my dad would make me get it, but as I lifted the biscuits from the oven I heard the front door open.



"Sup." My dad said.



"Hello, sir. You must be Daisy's father."



"Nah, I'm her pimp. You here to buy?" I threw down the oven mitts and raced to the living room.



"Hey, Zayn!" I smiled and pushed my dad out of the way, giving him a stern look.



"Hey, Dais." He pulled me in for a hug.



"I'd like you to meet my dad. Dad, this is Zayn. Zayn, my dad."



"Lovely to meet you, Mr. Toomey." I took in his appearance. He was wearing a white, graphic tank top. His jeans were black, a bit ripped on the right knee. They weren't as tight as his others, but were tight enough at the top that he didn't need a belt. He was wearing brown, leather boots - the top of them covered by the ruffled legs of his 'baggy' jeans.



"You can call me Rick, dw-" He stopped himself. "Zayn? It's Zayn right?" Zayn nodded. "Odd name."



"It's Arabic. It means beautiful. Just something my mum fancied I guess." He shrugged.



"Huh. Cooler than this one." My dad gestured to me. "You'd think her mother just liked daisies, but nope. Her favorite flower was actually pansies."



"Which is why she took a heavy liking to my father." I closed the door and Zayn tried to stifle a laugh.



"Hardy har. Is the food ready?" My dad asked, walking to the kitchen.



"Yeah, take a seat at the table and I'll make your plate."



"What are we having?" Zayn asked.



"Brinner." I smiled.



"I'm sorry? Is that an American thing?" He asked shyly.



"Breakfast for dinner." I laughed and led him into the kitchen.



"Oh...interesting. What kind? The only breakfast food I've had at night is cereal."



"Biscuits and gravy."



"It's my favorite. Ever had it?" My dad asked from the table.



"No I don't think I have."



"Well I'll just make you a plate how I make my dads. You can sit at the table." He smiled and did as he was told.



I grabbed three plates from the cupboard and began to tear biscuits. I wasn't sure how much Zayn would eat, so I filled his plate just like mine and my dads. We're pigs, and if Zayn can't finish this, dads gonna make fun of him for sure.



"Here ya go." I placed their plates in front of them. "What would you like to drink?" I asked Zayn.



"Um...orange juice?" I could tell he was trying to remember what we bought the other day.



"Milk for you, right dad?"



"Yeah I have frozen glasses in the man cave."



"No I froze one for you." I reached into the freezer and pulled out a nice cold glass. My dad is just as neurotic as I am, and one of the things he's compulsive about is having a frozen glass with his milk.



I poured Zayn's juice and some milk for me and dad before joining them at the table.



The three of us sat in a triangle around the circular table, the same amount of space between us.



"So what part of England are you from?" My dad asked.



"Bradford. It's not very well known here in the states."



"Yeah. All I know is London and Manchester."



"Bradford is actually a district inside Manchester." Zayn smiled.



"Ah. That's cool I guess. Do you play any sports? Soccer and cricket are pretty big there right?"



"Technically we call it football. But no. I've always been more into the arts. Like singing, drawing, writing...stuff like that."



"So is Daisy! Always drove me crazy. She's so uncoordinated. I tried to play catch with her when she was younger, and her depth perception is off or something cause her glove never even made it NEAR the ball."



"I may not be able to catch but I can still throw a punch." I warned my father.



"That's true. That's probably the only thing I was ever able to teach her was how to fight." I looked to Zayn, embarrassed for whatever reason, but all he did was smile. "I would warn you to be good to my girl, but she really could handle you herself. I taught her well." He laughed, and Zayn nodded along. 



All I could think of was the Christian encounters. How both times I was being harassed by him I couldn't really defend myself. Zayn probably thinks I'm so weak. What girl who knows how to fight just takes an attack like that, Daisy.



"Her best interest is mine, sir."



"You're a pretty well spoken dude, ya know?"



"I guess." He shrugged.



"Alright. Let's be frank." My dad leaned forward, scooting his plate away. "What are your intentions with my daughter?"



"Um.." Zayn's eyebrows scrunched and he looked considerably more nervous than before. "I don't really know, sir. I mean, I like her. I really like her. She's actually the only person who's treated me well since I've moved here."



"Yeah she told me you were bullied." My dad sat back, and I glared at him for bringing that up.



"I was. It was bad. But she never thought differently of me. She still doesn't - that I know of. I just...really like her. I don't completely know how to explain it."



"Well they say you know you love someone when you can't put into words how they make you feel."



"No I know how she makes me feel. Your question was about my intentions. And I don't think I have any. I'm just rolling with the punches."



The fact that my dad said the L-word and Zayn didn't deny it frightened me. I've only known him personally for a month....but then again, he said I was his only thought for 4 years. Is he in love with me? No way. That's absurd.



"She hits you too, huh?" My dad joked and I hit his arm. "Why?!" He asked me.



"Just supporting your terrible joke."



The rest of the night was spent with my dad interrogating Zayn in his nicest way possible. I learned a few new things about him myself. For example, despite his disinterest in sports, he actually doesn't mind baseball. Which was quite convenient considering it's my dads favorite. They talked about The Giants, my dads favorite team. Zayn said he didn't know many teams, that he just liked to watch the sport.



After I cleaned up brinner, the 'men' - as they so called themselves - were deep in conversation about some new video game. It was getting late and I decided it was better to let the two of them bond.



I went and took a quick, ten-minute shower. As I was sitting in front of my mirror brushing my hair, I was taken from my thoughts.



"You sound lovely when you hum."



"I'm sorry?" I looked up at Zayn.



"You were humming. It was quite nice." He took a seat on my bed.



"Oh. I didn't notice." I turned and leaned up against my wall, pulling my knees to my chest. "Where's my dad?"



"He left."



"Did he say where?"



"He said he had to see a friend."



"Oh. He went to the strip club." The shock on Zayns face was evident.



"That's not right."



"You get used to it." I shrugged. "He's really not that bad a guy."



"No, he was cool. Not really a father figure, but a cool guy for sure."



"Excuse me?"



"What..."



"Not a father figure?"



"I just mean...he doesn't seem very responsible."



"He does what he can."



"No, Daisy. From what I've seen he does what he WANTS. There's a difference."



"You don't know what you're talking about." I stared at my hair in the mirror while I brushed it, not wanting to look up at Zayn.



"I know enough. I know that when I have children of my own, I'm not going to leave them to fend for themselves. I know that my children are going to see me more than once a week. My children are going to be loved unconditionally."



"My father may not always be there, but he's there when I NEED him, Zayn! And how DARE you imply he doesn't love me. If anything I'm the only person he does love." 



"After himself."



"Get out." I pointed to my door.



"No."



"Zayn, I mean it. Get out. Now."



"No."



"WHY!"



"BECAUSE I WONT LEAVE YOU LIKE THE OTHERS!" We were both screaming.



"You don't know what you're talking about." A tear rolled down my cheek and he was in front of me on the floor immediately, wiping everything that fell from my eyes.



"Then teach me."



"Why should I tell you a thing? You hide everything from me."



"Because I don't want to give you a reason to dislike me."



"Why would I dislike you?"



"Please stop crying." He cupped my cheek. 



"I don't get you."



"But I get you." He's changing the subject.



"You make me so mad. I've told you so much. I told you about my mother, I let you meet my dad...and the most I know about you is that you draw your thoughts in your portfolio and despite your hate for sports you actually quite enjoy baseball. That's some real deep stuff, Zayn. Thanks for letting me in on your past."



"You also know my mom is a nurse. And that I've liked you for four years."



"Four years is a long time."



"It's even longer when you're the one who likes someone." He moved and leaned against the wall next to me. "You know, they say that after 6 months, a crush is no longer a crush. It's love."



"You shouldn't confuse love with infatuation."



"See, that's what I thought. That's exactly what I said. 'No, Zayn. You can't love someone you don't know. Don't kid yourself.' I kept trying to remind myself that I could love you. I had never even spoken to you. But then this year I pulled back onto campus and saw you again...don't get me wrong, I saw you a lot while I was homeschooled. But when I got off my bike and saw you, you were just staring at me, I didn't see anyone but you. I was still reminding myself: 'It's not love, Zayn. Just because she's all you see doesn't mean you love her. It's infatuation.' And then we talked...and I couldn't help the butterflies in my stomach. The way you made me feel. And then when I saw you at Franky's...I don't know. I was just so jealous when I walked in, I guess. It was like 'How did he get her to come over? He doesn't even know her.' And the way he and Christian talked about you after you left...it took everything for me not to kill him. Then seeing you at that party...you looked so good." I could tell his thoughts were jumbled, but I wasn't going to stop him as he finally let me see inside that quiet mind of his. "And seeing you on the ground when Christian was...I've never been more angry in my life." His knuckles went white as he clenched his fists. "Then that prick invited you to his house again...I wasn't gonna have it. I know you think I'm crazy-"



"I said I didn't wanna talk about you hitting him."



"No I need to say this." I looked straight ahead and let him continue. "When he walked out of class without you, I asked him why he invited you over. He asked what my problem was, and I repeated my question. He said, and I quote: 'If I wanna invite my friend over, I will. The fact that she's hot is just a perk. It really shouldn't be your concern.'" His knuckles had never been whiter than in that moment. "And it pissed me off. He hit a nerve. So I hit him." I tried to ignore the chills and goosebumps that consumed me. "I told him to not ever talk about you like that again. Then I pulled him up by his shirt and told him to go home and never tell a soul what happened. Which he ignored, obviously."



"Why did what he say bother you so much?" 



"Because it was like you had lost all of your substance and become an object of desire. A temperature rather. If you admire a girl, then you should describe her as beautiful, breath-taking, unbelievable...something that shows you actually felt something when you looked at her. He just made you sound cheap to me... I don't know, Daisy. It just pissed me off so fast."


"I don't understand why, though. He said himself that we were friends."

"And that your looks were a perk." I clearly wasn't seeing the point. "Why would someones looks matter to a friend? They wouldn't."

"So you were jealous."

"No." He sighed. "Maybe. I don't know, anymore. I just know I was angry, and I hit him. I'm not saying that's right, but it happened, and I thought you deserved to know why."

"So, why didn't you just tell me about it yourself? Why did it have to get to the point that Franky told me. That's what had me so upset that day, Zayn. I was actually sick to my stomach because you hid something from me. That terrifies me."

"I just wanted to be with you...I did one small thing. It was stupid, yeah. But, I really do think it was small...in retrospect." I considered this.

"It's a little intense..." He looked at me, kind of confused. "You hit a guy before we were even friends let alone what we are now....I'm trying to put myself in your shoes and I just don't get it."

"That day... The day I hit him." He recalled. "We went to the creek for the first time, and I thought you were going to be mad that I forced you to come. I thought you were going to hate me, actually. And I couldn't help but feel like anything that happened between us would stay there because you would be ashamed of me."

"You're not the guy you were freshman year, Zayn." 

"Please, let me finish." He put his hand up. "I didn't think you were going to get in. As much as I hoped you would, I had a feeling I'd be left in the water alone...and then all of a sudden you dropped your pants and revealed the best damn underwear I've ever seen."



"My underwear is so embarrassing."



"Hell no it's not! It's the best!" He laughed. "Anyway...when you backed up and jumped in, I was shocked to say the least. I thought you were gonna run back to the meadow. But then you landed next to me and I was in awe." He smiled and shook his head playing with his thumbs. "Then you met me under the waterfall...and before I even kissed you, I just knew. The way the light reflected off the water and danced on your skin, the way you looked at me, the way we didn't even have to say anything but we were perfectly comfortable....I knew it wasn't infatuation. I'm in love you, Daisy."