"You're still grounded, missy," my mom says from the kitchen, where I can smell something delicious cooking.

"You've told me a million times," I reply, plopping down on the couch with my phone in hand. "I know I am."

Suddenly my phone disappears from my grip. "That includes no phones."

Ｇｒｏｕｎｄｅｄ

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐲.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

Ｇｒｏｕｎｄｅｄ

𝐍𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

I stare up into her face, firm and sure, but still hard to oppose.

I groan. "What in the world am I supposed to do now?"

"Read a book," she answers. "Back in the day, you actually enjoyed doing that."

"Wow 'back in the day'," I repeat, rolling my eyes. "I'm sixteen, not sixteen-hundred."

"Well, it seems like far too long ago," she replies, taking my kidnapped phone with her to the kitchen.

I groan and sink lower into the couch, arms crossed.

Suddenly loud knocking comes from the door behind me. I don't even flinch.

"Paris!" my mom calls. "Can you get the door?"

I lazily rise to my feet to walk around the couch to the front door. I open it, speaking before I see who the knocker is. "We have a doorbell you know—" I stare in shock for a minute, but it fades quickly, replaced by an annoyed expression. I place a hand on my hip and narrow my eyes. "What are you doing here, Lucas?"

"When you stopped answering the phone, I thought I'd come over," he replies, giving me a smile and letting himself in. "We're neighbors, you know."

"Oh? What a wonderful surprise."

"You didn't know that?" my younger sister's voice comes from behind me. I turn around slowly to face her blabbering mouth."We've been neighbors for like ten years. Ever since we moved here after I was born."

I turn back to Lucas to see a slight grimace showing through his smile.

"Don't take it too personally," Emilie continues with a flip of her hair. "She doesn't know anyone. She's gonna die a single, lonely old lady." She pauses for a moment. "Actually, not completely alone...she'll probably have like five cats to keep her company."

My head snaps back toward my short sister. "First of all, I don't even like cats. Second of all...who cares if I don't know anyone? At least I know my family...and how annoying they are." I glare down at her, wishing my stare would make her go 'poof'. But of course, she remains to continue her annoying antics.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Emilie questions Lucas, ignoring obvious signs of annoyance.

"I don't want to be a bother..." he begins politely.

My little sister scoffs and loops her arm around his. "Nonsense!" she answers with her posh accent, skipping forward with Lucas dragging behind.

———————

"So...!" My mom begins excitedly as we all sit down at the dining table to eat. "I heard you're good with music!"

"I've been known to strum a few chords and sing a few notes," Lucas replies, leaning back in his chair casually.

My mom clasps her hands together and smiles. "From what I heard, it was more than chords and notes! You performed on Miami beach!"

He smiles and wraps an arm around the back of his chair, making my temptation to give the chair a small shove increase.

I turn away from him to look at my dad who has his head down, trying and failing to be discreet.

Yup, it's time for Lucas' background check. I'm honestly surprised he didn't make Lucas wait outside while he did it. Maybe being our neighbor for ten darn years helped a bit.

"And what did you say your last name was, young man?" my dad questions not-so-subtly from behind his glasses resting on the tip of his nose.

Without hesitation or suspicion, Lucas replies, "Bryant, sir. Lucas Bryant."

"Hm," my dad hums, not even hiding his concentrated face as he stares down at his bright phone. "Are you sure it isn't Lu Bryant?"

I cover my smile with my hand as I look over at Lucas' frustrated red face. "Justin," he mutters. But he wipes it away to look at my dad. "No, sir. It's Lucas Bryant."

My dad looks up from his phone to give Lucas a confused expression. "The only Lucas Bryant I'm finding is the famous singer from...Miami..." His voice trails off. "But that can't be you." He dismisses the idea quickly. "And it's spelled, L-U-C-A-S right—"

"That is him, dad," I interrupt. "He's Lucas Bryant, famous singer from Miami, Florida."

"Sure he is, sweetheart," my dad returns. "Now tell me," he continues, facing Lucas. "Is your last name spelled, B-R-Y..."

I drown them out and focus on the random staring battle with my older sister.

She's looking at me intently like she thinks staring just hard enough will allow her to see right into my brain.

Like any normal person would do, I stare back.

She eventually turns away to focus on her food—which makes me realize the silence that has fallen over the room.

I guess my dad figured it out.

I stare at his frozen face as he stares at Lucas in disbelief.

"He's not that famous, dad," I try.

My dad's shocked expression quickly morphs into a large grin. "The boys at the office absolutely love your music!" he says, completely ignoring me. "Could you sign something for me? They're gonna be so jealous when they find out you came over for dinner." Then he turns to me. "This one's a keeper," he whispers over the table, all thoughts of a background check forgotten.

I scoff. "A keeper of what?" I ignore his suddenly annoyed expression. "Keeper of the brainless? Oh, wait—that's his friend's job." Lucas couldn't hear our whispered conversation over my mom asking him everything under the moon.

What school?

Favorite subject?

Good grades?

Have you ever been to detention?

Get in trouble often?

"How long have you been doing music?" my mother asks.

I glance at Lucas for a second. His lips are pursed before he opens his mouth to answer. "Since day one," he says. "My uncle helped me pluck a guitar the very day I was born. I've loved music ever since."

"You know, Paris does a little music as well..." my mom begins. "She's been singing since she was five. She used to be a little diva, dancing around the house with her sparkly pink microphone."

Lucas raises an eyebrow, giving me a quick glance."Is that so?"

"And to think I absolutely despise pink now," I say sarcastically under my breath. "Anyways, it's getting late. Lucas should probably be getting home." I grab Lucas' arm and drag him to his feet. "Dinner was delicious, mom," I state over my untouched plate. "I'll walk Lucas to the door and then come back to help with the dishes."

Before my family can react or say goodbye, I take Lucas to the front door and unlock it, turning the nob and pushing us outside.

"So, you used to be a little diva, huh?" he questions with waggling eyebrows. "A sparkly pink microphone?"

"No one makes any sense at five," I reply with a sour look.

"What happened?" Lucas asks suddenly and seriously.

I turn to him with a tired expression. "I did something called 'growing up'. You should try it sometime." And with that, I turn away and walk back into my house.