"Oh, darlin' I could almost taste the wetness between your..."
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"Hey, mom. What's up?" I spoke softly into my cellphone. I was just waking up from a quick nap when she called. She's always calling me at the most random times, but i don't mind.
"Hey, baby. I just was calling to see how you were doing."
"Shouldn't it be the other way around? I should be calling to check on you." I replied with a light chuckle. She laughed.
"True, but this time I'm checking on you. What have you been up to since the last time I saw you?"
I froze.
I can't tell her I've been at Paisley Park with Prince.
"Just hanging with Josie as usual. And you already know Zayn and I just moved into our house three days ago."
"Yes, I remember. How is Zayn?"
"He's fine." I respond, not wanting to tell her about the argument he and I had, and purposely ignoring the blatant distaste in the tone of her voice when she said his name. It was no secret that my mother wasn't too fond of Zayn, especially after we told them we were going to be living together before getting married. Both my parents are traditional and to hear that kind of ruffled their feathers a bit. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, although your father and I don't approve of the current situation you're in, I still wanted to check on you. Both of you."
"Oh."
"We love you both honey. We do. We just don't understand why you'd want to live together before being married."
I sighed softly. "I know, mom. We love you too. It's just something that we've decided to do. I know it's goes against what you believe in, but we're grown. We should be able to make our own decisions about this."
"I agree, but-."
"Mom, I'm going to have to call you back, okay? I have some errands to run." I interrupted her, feeling an argument brewing between us. I needed to get off the phone with her before it makes its way to the surface.
"Alright honey. I love you."
"I love you more." I say just before hanging up and dialing Zayn's number for the third time today. He and Alex have been out all day and I haven't heard from either one of them. Which wasn't a good thing, because we usually check in with each other while we're out. Other than my Paisley Park fiasco, of course. I waited to hear his voice pour through the receiver, but instead all I got was his voicemail.
Guess he's still upset.
I sighed, finally giving up on trying to get him to answer his phone, and decided to worry about myself for a change. I've come to the conclusion that he'll call when he's ready to talk.
