Portrait of a Bad Boy ✓

Chapter 12: Broken

"My mother wants to meet you." Blake raised his head at the declaration. Lyla refused to meet his gaze. "She knows I've been heading out to meet someone. I told her we haven't done anything but she still wants to meet you."

"Ok," Blake nodded. "I don't mind meeting her."

"Good, because I told her your free Saturday."

What?

"Lyla!" He glared at her. "You can't just dump this on me like that!"

"I know!" She raised her hands. "I know. I'm sorry but she cornered me. If it wasn't this Saturday then she was going to forbid me from seeing you." Seeing the panic in her gaze, Blake sighed and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "It's alright."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side. "Let's just continue watching this movie."

And that was how Blake found his Saturday morning in front of Lyla's door. Come on, Blake. Come on, Blake. Everything is going to be just- The door opened, revealing a middle aged woman. In her hand was a lit cigarette while her gaze scanned over Blake.

"Can I help you?"

Blake stepped forward. "Blake Hill, Ma'am." He held out a hand. "Here for dinner." Her eyes widened as she seemed to look over him again. Thankfully, a familiar face joined them. "Blake!" Lyla smiled. "You're here. Mom, this is Blake." She reached forward and pulled him into the house, latching her arm with his. "See, he's the one I've been telling you about."

Her eyes narrowed. "I see."

Lyla was practically a younger version of this woman, leaving Blake squirming under the intense glare. "Well, I guess we should get ready for dinner. Would you mind helping set the dinner table, Blake?"

"Yes, ma'am." Blake nodded.

As he followed the women into the kitchen, he took note of just how small the kitchen was. They could barely squeeze through it. After bumping into Lyla for the third time, the words blurted from his lips. "I'm sorry. This kitchen is just so small."

"Well, not everyone can have a wide open kitchen as big as their bedroom and staff to wait for them all day." Lyla's mother started to set the cups down. "Water or Juice?"

Grimacing, Blake muttered a quick water. Dinner, however, was enough to make his mouth water. From fried chicken to collads to mac n cheese, green bean casserole, and cornbread. As he helped himself, he could feel two pairs of eyes on him.

"So, Blake, any future plans after school? I know you're a junior now but it's never too late to start planning." Here it was...the test.

"No, I'm...not sure what I want to do after high school, actually."

He met her mother's gaze. If there were any signs of disappointment, she didn't show it. "Well, clearly you must have some idea of a career, even if it's final." Blake hesitated before his gaze met Lylas who seemed just as anxious.

"Well, I have thought about being an artist."

The sound of falling culinary snapped both their gaze to Lyla.Her face flushed as she knelt down to gather her things.

"An artist huh?" Her mother continued. "And you think you have what it takes to become an artist?"

Blake nodded. "Yes, I hope so." Her mother nodded once before she grabbed the pan of casserole. "More casserole." At Blake's nod, she started to add more. "Well, Blake, I hope you know that my Lyla had been aiming for some of the top colleges ever since she could read. She's very smart and works hard to get what she wants."