A Star Is Born

To Grandmas House We Go

(Harry's POV)

Before she can answer, two boys appear with curious eyes.

"Jordyn? Where'd you come from?" The older looking boy questions in a thick southern accent, giving her a warm welcome, scooping her up in a tight hug.

"Gosh, when'd y'all get so big?" She laughs, wrapping her arms around both of the boys.

"Dalton," the older brother offers a hand shake.

I accept. "Harry, nice to meet you."

"I'm, Bryson. You Jordyn's boyfriend?" He bluntly wonders.

Pats eyes shoot to me with zero patience for my answer. "Guilty." I smile with charm, hoping to win over the tough crowd.

"Does your daddy know about this?!" Pat yells.

"Why don't you guys show Harry to the bathroom. I'm sure he'll need to use it before we leave." Jordyn gives me a nod to make a subtle run for it, so I take it. Following Dalton and Bryson through the wooden doors into the main entrance.

"I feel sorry for her." Bryson says.

"I know. She's dead." Dalton chuckles a sorrowful sigh.

"Hopefully it won't be too bad." I try to suggest some positivity.

"You don't know grams." Dalton runs his hand through his blonde hair. He's skinny with tanned skin, from working outside, I assume. His eyes are a soft shade of green.

"Yeah, Jordyn's probably praying for someone to shoot her right about now." Bryson explains. His brown hair is grown out a bit, stoping just a few inches above his shoulders. He's tall for his age and thin too. His eyes are bright blue. His voice loud and a little obnoxious.

"I don't think-

"Over my dead body!" I hear Pat shout from somewhere in the near distance, interrupting me.

The boys break out in a chuckle. I, on the other hand, am scared for my life.

"I'd make a run for it, bro." Bryson says on a more serious than joking note.

"Oh god..." I sigh, pushing my hands through my hair as I plop down on a chair.

"Shoot, I left my phone in the Sunday school room." Bryson explains, leaving Dalton and I alone.

I smile awkwardly.

"Listen,"

Oh fuck.

"Jordyn's like a sister to me and I don't want her getting hurt by some jerk. So if you don't care about her, you might as well leave now." He states calmly.

"I love her." I assure with heartfelt honesty.

"Prove it." He meet my stare with narrow eyes.

"Prove it? How would you like me to-

"What's her favorite food?" He begins his test. He asks his questions quickly and I answer just as fast.

"Hot wings."

"Favorite ice cream?"

"Cookie dough." I smile at this adorable fact.

"What color does she hate?"

"Pink." I smirk.

"Does she like cats?"

"She hates them." I inform. "And they hat her."

"Technology-

"Also hates her. What else you got?" I wonder with confidence.

"Would she rather have flowers or chocolate?"