“Songs?” Lila asks, her face contorted with puzzlement.

“Did your father hire you, then?” my mother asks as she searches the couch cushions for the remote.

“Yep, he sure did.” Even though the night ended stressfully, I still glow with excitement and nerves, knowing that, in less than a week, I’ll be doing my first performance.

“Good. I’m proud of you.” She discovers the remote near the fireplace. “Just make sure you’re careful, okay? The environment at those kinds of things is very adult.”

“Mom, I turn eighteen in two months. I’m pretty much an adult already.”

“You’ll always be my little girl, Lyric Scott.”

“Aw, are you getting soft on me, Mom?” I dramatically touch my hand to my heart. “Usually, you’re the tough one and Dad gets all emotional.”

“I am the tough one.” She sternly points the remote at me. “But I love you just as much as him, which is why I’m going to come to the performance and keep an eye on you.”

I dramatically stomp my foot. “Crap, there goes my plan of doing drugs and hooking up with guys all night.”

“Lyric Scott.” Her eyes enlarge as she shoots a warning look, pressing that we have an audience. “There are children in the room.”

“Not really.” Fiona’s been doodling in her sketchpad the entire time we’ve been home but stops drawing to chime in. “I’m the youngest and I’m almost fourteen, which hardly makes me a kid anymore.”

“You are a child.” Lila strictly points a finger at her. “No matter how hard you try Fiona Gregory, no matter how much makeup you put on, you are still my little girl.”

“You know,” I intervene, offering my two cents. “I’ve often wondered why my mom and you and even Uncle Ethan and Dad all use our last names when you’re angry. I mean, it’s not like we don’t know who you’re talking to if you say Lyric.”

“Lyric Scott,” Aunt Lila scolds me, but then smiles. “Fine, you have a good point, but like how you and Ayden hold hands all the time, using your last names when we’re angry is something we’re going to do.” She glances at my and Ayden’s clasped fingers.

Kale tracks her gaze and frowns, like he’s just realizing Ayden and I do such a thing. On top of feeling awkward, I feel bad for him. I’ve had a ton of crushes over the last few years and it never feels all that great when you realize nothing will ever happen with the person you’re momentarily obsessed with.

Ayden’s grip on my hand strengthens. “We should go get that thing done,” he says to me.

“Thing?” Her attention descends to our hands. “I thought you guys were going to work on a song.”

“We are,” I say, hurrying toward the doorway before they can stop us.

“Keep the door open!” she calls out after us.

“Do you think she knows?” I hiss as I steer Ayden toward the kitchen to grab a snack before we head upstairs.

“About what?” Realization clicks and his jaw drops to the floor. “You mean about us… kissing?”

I nod as we enter the kitchen. The air smells of cinnamon and hot chocolate and makes my mouth water. “Yeah, it seemed like she might have known about us.”

“Known what about you?” my dad asks, his voice scaring the bejesus out of me.

I slam to a stop near the island, quickly realizing he and Ethan might have overheard us.

“Um, that Ayden and I haven’t gotten any of our homework done over holiday break,” I lie poorly.

My dad pops a chunk of chocolate into his mouth then trades a look with Ethan. “You two seem awful nervous right now.”

I rack my brain for what to say and catch a whiff of cigarette smoke. Jackpot! My out.

“About as nervous as you two,” I retort, scooping up a couple of pieces of fudge from off a platter on the countertop.

“What do you mean?” The microwave beeps. “We’re not nervous.”

“Maybe you should be.” I hand Ayden a piece of the fudge and stuff one into my mouth. “I can smell you from all the way over here.” The chocolate melts in mouth. So delicious. Aunt Lila makes the best fudge.

He removes a bowl from the microwave, then tenses. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He exchanges another look with Uncle Ethan.

“I can smell it on you, too,” I tell Uncle Ethan and his expression plunges, his back stiffly straightening like a bolt of lightning just zapped him. “I’m not going to nark or anything. Just thought I’d let you know.” I shovel a handful of candy from a glass dish then tug Ayden out of the room with me before anything else can be said.

“You’ve always known how to talk your way out of things,” Ayden says as we ascend the stairway. “But I’ve never seen you make them squirm like that.”

“If I didn’t try something then they would have pried the truth out of us with their parenting mind control skills,” I joke, pushing open my bedroom door.

I flip on the lights, wrestle out of my jacket, and scarf down the remaining candy.  Then I kick my boots off and flop down on the bed.

“You want to talk about why you’re so quiet?” I ask with my mouth full of candy gooeyness.

He shuts the door and slumps against it. “I’m just trying to process everything.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Why the hell was the guy in the house? A guy who clearly has to be part of that group.” He touches his side where his tattoo is hidden beneath his shirt.