There are friends, there is family, and then there are friends that become family. ♡
But will it be forever ?
Or will the life of a celebrity best friend be too much to handle?
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Author's note: As this was written years ago, I ask younot to look at the writing nor the mistakes in the upcoming chapters. This is one of my first works in English, so it isn't well-written at all.
MY SUMMER HOLIDAYS just started and I can't be happier. Netflix, Youtube and maybe even several books will accompany me. The perfect way to spend the next few months.
Still sleep drunk, I stumble off the stairs. My eyes fall upon my mom. A huge smile is plastered on her lips. It almost makes the corners of my lips curl up, too, but I'm too tired.
"Good morning." my mom says.
"Good morning, mom." I say back. She sips from her cup of coffee and lays the paper in front of her on the table.
"Do you want to do something for me?" she asks, tilting her head a little.
A smirk comes on my face as I tilt my head a little, too. "Depends."
My mom frowns, but I can tell that she knows I'll do whatever she asks by the twinkles appearing in her eyes. "Our new neighbors arrived two hours ago," she tells me "I wanted to give them these cookies but I can't. I need to get to work."
"And you want me to give them?"
She nods.
"Sure, I'll do that." I fill my own cup of coffee and sit down next to her at the table. "I bet they're going to be brats, though."
My mom's eyes widen and she shakes her head immediately. "Brats?" she exclaims in a disapproving tone.
"Yes." I giggle, loving how shocked she's looking. "Like those last neigbors who used to play the music all the time! Absolutely everyone hated them." I remember the many sleepless nights. Oh, how many times I wished that they'd left. They did . . . after several years.
"I thought you liked music." My mom shrugs.
Before answering, I take a sip from my cup. "I do, but those people only played music that gave everyone a headache. I had loads." I complain as I lay a hand on my forehead, acting very dramatic.
"I'm sure they'll be better than the ones before them." My mom chuckles at my dramatic act. "Now I've got to go. Have a great day sweetheart and don't forget to-"
"To bring them the cookies." I chuckle. "I won't mom. I'll clean . . . all of this."
In a quick pace, my mom walks towards her jacket that's laying on the couch. It doesn't take long until I'm left alone with a whole table that needs cleaning up.
