Archer pulls out of the school car park and turns right. "Where are we going?"

The regret of getting into the car and then not listening when he told me to get out starts to settle in. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe I should have just listened to him.

"Why should I tell you?" He starts. I open my mouth to respond but he continues before I get the chance. "You never listen to anything I say." He raises an eyebrow, challenging me. I roll my eyes, unable to deny his words.

He makes a good point. If he provided a bit more of an argument at the time, then I would have definitely considered listening to him.

"You're going to make us late." I stare out of the window as we go further and further away from the school.

"So?" The car comes to a halt at a stop sign.

I cross one leg over the other "You're skipping school?"

"No, we're skipping school." He shoots me a smirk before stepping on the gas, carrying on the journey to wherever we're going.

I gape at the side of his face. His attention has already returned to the road, so he doesn't notice my wide, panic-filled eyes. I narrow my eyes at him. How is he so calm? My palms are already clammy, and my throat's dry.

He's a bad influence. I knew he was from the moment I met him and yet here I am, sitting in a car with him skipping school. My inner voice tells me that it's my own fault for getting in with him in the first place, but I push it away.

I sink further into my seat. "At least tell me how far away it is." I plead.

He chuckles slightly and answers vaguely, "it's not far."

That wasn't the answer I was looking for, but it will do. At least I know he isn't driving hours away. I can't afford to be with him for hours again without an option to leave. That wasn't fun before. It won't be fun again.

It's not long before we stop outside a suspicious-looking repair shop. I have to admit, a lot of repair shops look suspicious but this one definitely looks worse than the rest.

I look around, chewing on my lip anxiously, and am glad to see the usual bustle of the city. We're not in a remote area, that's a good sign.

"Wait in the car." Archer orders before stepping out, slamming the door shut behind him. It startles me causing me to flinch slightly.

Once my heart returns to its normal pace, my frustration grows. Why should he get to order me around? He didn't even give me a chance to fight my corner. I could be more help out there than I am in here.

"You can do this, Madison. Don't let him control you like this." I say to myself, puffing my chest out in confidence. I open my door and step out onto the road. Well, here goes nothing.

I follow Archer in behind him. He notices my obnoxiously loud footsteps and shakes his head. "You never listen," he tuts.

Is it a bad sign that he doesn't even have to turn around to know that? "Next time, I'm locking the doors."

He comes face to face with a man covered in some sort of oil. He shakes his hand firmly, not caring about the substance that was just transferred onto him and gives him a nod of his head. They don't exchange any words. It seems the man already knows why he's here.

He grabs a box from one of the shelves before giving it to Archer. There's no labels or anything to indicate the contents of this incredibly suspicious-looking box.

"Who's she?" The man's attention averts to me. I look him dead in the eyes. I swear my soul leaves my body. His scrutinizing gaze makes me feel like he's assessing whether I'm a loose end that he needs to take care of.

His jaw clenches as the man's gaze travels along my body. I shiver involuntarily. "No one." He grumbles sternly.

He grabs my arm as he drags me out of the repair shop. I manage to wriggle out of his hold, so I don't have to suffer the embarrassment of him walking me all the way to the car. I'm more than happy to leave that place; I did not get good vibes from that man.

He places the box on the backseat before speeding off. "What's in it?" I ask when we've been on the road for a few minutes.

"Guess."

"A gun?" He scoffs. "A blade?" I try again which earns me another, more obnoxious scoff. "A torture device?"

I wouldn't put it past the oil-covered man to own one of them. I'm slightly unsure why Archer would need one though.

"Who do you think I am, a mafia boss?" He laughs, his eyes creasing in amusement. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as he does, and I glue my gaze to the floor. "Just open it."

I don't hesitate to grab the box and rip it open. When my eyes settle on what's inside, I groan in disappointment. I expected something a bit more exciting or thrilling, not this thing. Come to think of it, what even is this thing?

I voice my thoughts. "It's an air filter for my dirt bike."

"You have a dirt bike and a motorcycle?" I gape in disbelief.

"Yeah," he trails off. I look at him as if he'd grown another head. "You never know when you might need them." He shrugs nonchalantly.

Everything clicks in my head. "You came to a repair shop to get an air filter for your dirt bike," I mumble to myself. That makes much more sense than the weapon would. Curse me and my over creative imagination.

"Why would I go to a repair shop to get a weapon?" He stifles a laugh as he changes gear.

A blush crawls up my neck and I scramble to take the attention off my embarrassment. "I don't know, why would anyone choose pizza over a burger? Some things just don't make sense."

We pass the school again and I have to rip my eyes away from it. You're just skipping school, Madison, there's nothing to worry about. Missing half a day won't do any harm. I choose not to question where we're going next because I know he won't tell me.

His voice slices through the silence moments later. "If I was going to pick up a weapon I would do it in a more secluded area."

My jaw drops instantly. The possibility of him actually owning a weapon of some sort plays over and over again in my head. There's no way.

"I'm joking." He chuckles with a grin, confirming my suspicions.

*

We pull up outside the house. Archer cuts the engine before heading straight for the garage. I stand next to the car, still wondering whether I should follow him or go inside. He pulls open the door to the garage and turns to look at me.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me?" He raises his eyebrows, waiting for my answer. His shirt lifts slightly again. My eyes zone in on his exposed skin. His smirk widens once he notices me openly gawking at him.

I rip my eyes away and ignore the feeling of my face heating up. Pull yourself together, Madison. Choosing the second option, I scurry in behind him. His dirt bike is sitting in the middle of the floor looking even more dangerous than his motorcycle.

"Are you some sort of adrenaline junkie?"

He ignores my question, his eyes trained on what's in front of us. "Get me a 10mm combination wrench, a clean rag, silicone grease, and dish soap."

I wait for the please, but it never comes. With a roll of my eyes at his lack of manners, I rummage around the shelves to find what he asked for. Once I find everything, I drop it by his side.

He glances at them before a crease forms between his eyebrows. His hand darts to pick something up. "What's this?" He holds up the wrench that he asked for.

"A wrench," I answer, confused as to why he's asking me this. He must know what it is if he asked me to get it for him.

He closes his eyes briefly as if he's had enough of my presence. "These are wire cutters." He points out.

My mouth forms an 'o'. Before I can go replace it, he's already on his feet. He comes back seconds later with an actual wrench. How was I supposed to know what a wrench looks like?

He starts removing the two bolts that are holding the seat in place and I watch him awkwardly. I shift from my left foot to my right, unsure of what to do now that I've got what he needed.

"Do you need any help?" I offer.

"Considering you don't even know what a wrench is, I think it's best if you don't help."

I purse my lips. I deserve that.

Instead of standing there for longer, I grab a stool from the corner of the room and drag it towards the dirt bike. He looks up to see what I'm doing. I shoot him a cheesy grin as I sit down. "How did you learn to do this?"

"My dad taught me." His eyebrows crease in concentration.

I don't push the topic any further. I know that he isn't on very good terms with his parents. He only spends time with them when he has to. It makes me think about how lucky I am to have a good relationship with my dad. Despite being thousands of miles away from him we still talk almost every day.

Archer surprises me by continuing the conversation. "Believe it or not, we used to actually get on." He lifts the seat off and drops the wrench on the floor. "He'd teach me something new every day. I always looked forward to it. It was my favourite part of the day. We weren't all that similar but, at that time, it felt like we finally had something to bond over."

He looks off into the distance as he reminisces on his times with his dad. A smile tugs at my lips but I try to conceal it. Seeing him happy shouldn't make me this happy. Why is it making me happy?

Without warning, his face turns blank. That sparkle of joy previously in his eyes has now vanished. "What happened between you two?" I ask.

"You don't want to know." He mutters before lifting something out of the bike.

"I do." I encourage him. He's never opened up to me before, hell, he probably hasn't opened up to anyone in years. When we were finally getting somewhere, he cut himself off.

As soon as I say those two little words, he's already on his feet. The tools beside him clatter as he jumps up, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. He stalks towards me, never taking his eyes off of me. My heart races. I can't help but step back as he gets closer.

My back hits the wall behind me and I curse under my breath. He's now only inches away from me, his arms rest above my head, so I'm caged in. I take a sharp intake of breath at our proximity. "You don't want to know, Madison. Nobody wants to know. I have to live with this for the rest of my life. I don't need to deal with your pity alongside it." He snaps.