I say as I hop off Archer's motorcycle, "I'll never get used to that." The feeling of solid ground beneath my feet is a relief. I take the helmet off, handing it to Archer.

"I'll never get used to that hair." He retorts. I huff and readjust my bun, so it looks less like a birds nesting in it. A flush crawls up my cheeks still. When is my body going to get used to being around him? At this rate, it won't.

"Sorry, not all of us can look perfect all the time." I roll my eyes. It takes a few second for me to realise what I said and, once I do, I slap my hand against my mouth. I can feel my cheeks heating up beneath my fingertips even more. The amusement dancing in his brown eyes is only making it worse.

"Say that again, I didn't hear you." He teases.

"Oh, shut up." I avoid eye contact with him. "Will you tell me where we're going yet?"

"You're so impatient." He rolls his eyes and sets off in the direction of a bunch of houses. I follow close behind him.

"I was on the back of that thing for ages, I think I have the right to know."

The newly built houses around me look familiar. I recognise the white picket fence around each of them and the freshly painted mailbox directly across from us. Maybe if I didn't have my eyes squeezed shut the entire time it took us to get here, I might have been able to work it out by the turns we took and the streets we went down.

He scratches his chin in thought mockingly causing me to nudge him with my shoulder. "Fine," he chuckles, "Tyler needed me for something."

That's all he has to say for it to click. I've been here before. It was when he disappeared for days. I came to Tyler's house to see if he had any idea where he was. Everything that day was a blur so it's no surprise that it took me a while to recognise this place.

"What did he need you for?"

He shrugs, "I don't know."

After three knocks on the door and five seconds of waiting in silence, it opens revealing Tyler in, you guessed it, black jeans, and a t-shirt. At least he's actually wearing clothes this time.

"Arch," he holds his hand out in front of him and they do some complicated handshake. I watch them, amazed at how they remember that. "Something's happened with Autumn's parents. I don't have time now, but I'll explain it later."

"Is she okay?"

"She will be," Tyler reassures him. I have a feeling he missed out a further explanation on purpose.

"She needs me at her place. If I could take Natalie with me I would."

"What do you need?" Archer cuts him off.

Tyler drags his hands down his face. He's stressed and it's clear to see. I'm overcome with concern for Autumn, yet I've never met her. I understand what it's like for something to happen with your parents. I just hope whatever happened is fixable.

"I need you to stay here until I get back to make sure Natalie's okay. She won't wake up; you know how she is. She'll sleep through anything. Maya's staying over at her friends, so you don't need to worry about her either."

Archer's quick to agree. Tyler thanks him briefly before rushing out of the door seconds later, jumping into his car and speeding off within a matter of seconds. Then, it's just me and Archer stood outside his house.

I don't know what to say so instead I just sway back and forth on my feet. Archer walks inside and my eyes dart from his retreating form to the threshold of the house.

"Do you want me to leave?" I ask timidly, peering inside.

"No," is all he says.

I take this as my invitation to come in, so I do, shutting the door quietly behind me. By the sounds of what Tyler said, Natalie's sleeping, and I don't want to be the one to wake her.

Archer walks around the house as if it were his own. He must come here a lot. We pass the kitchen and the dining room with photographs of Tyler and his family hanging on the walls. One stands out to me, it's him with a little girl in his arms, as well as a similar-aged blonde girl next to him. They're in the middle of laughing, their eyes creasing at the corners. The little girl must be Natalie. The blonde one must be Maya. I'm assuming she's his sister too.

We round a corner, and he opens a wooden door to reveal what can only be described as a man cave. There's a fuse ball table in the middle of the cream carpet double the size of any I've ever seen. An old-looking brown sofa is pushed up against the far-left wall with a TV and a games console sitting in front of it. And, of course, there's a mini-fridge filled with the typical red cans of Coca-Cola.

"Do you want one?" He offers me a can. I take it out of his hands and thank him before he grabs one for himself, taking a seat on the sofa.

I copy his actions, not really knowing how to act on my own in someone else's house. As soon as my back hits the comfort of the pillows I sink into it. From the appearance, the sofa looks worn and well-used, but it feels amazing.

"Sorry about this," He rubs the back of his neck. I could swear a slight blush crawls up his neck. But once I've blinked a couple of times to check that what I'm seeing is actually true, it's gone.

"I don't mind."

"When I said you could come with me, I didn't expect to be babysitting." Is he embarrassed?

I cross my legs, so I'm more comfortable. "Don't worry, I'm used to babysitting. I look after my little sister, Sadie when my dad's at work all the time."

My dad loves his job and he also loves his family. Sometimes he has to work late so we have enough to pay the bills that month and that leaves me to be the one to cook dinner and make sure Sadie's ready for bed. To some people, doing this would be a chore but I'm happy to do it. My dad has a lot on his plate sometimes. I like to know that I'm at least doing something to help him out.

"I didn't know you had a little sister." His eyebrows raise slightly.

I shrug, "I guess there hasn't been a right time to say it."

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as his eyes light up. "Now is a better time than ever." He props his head upon his hand and waits for me to open up to him. I can't keep the smile off my face. He wants to get to know me. He actually wants to get to know me.

"What do you want to know?"

He asks me about Sadie, so I tell him, "she's ten. She can be a bit of a brat sometimes, but all ten-year-olds can be. She never goes anywhere without her rabbit teddy named Rabbit, trying to get her away from that thing is like trying to keep a squirrel from collecting nuts."

"Rabbit?" He cocks his eyebrow.

"Yep," I respond, popping the p. "She was four when she named it."

Then, he asks me about my dad. I start with his job; he works at an architectural firm as a drafting technician. When he's not working, he's catching up on the latest law documentary. He used to make us watch them with him, but he knows that we don't find them as entertaining as he does so he lets us do something else instead. He's sarcastic, sometimes too sarcastic for his own good. People often think he's being rude, and I've got to admit, sometimes his sarcasm can be borderline rude, but he doesn't mean anything by it.

He chuckles lightly, "I'll have to remember that." He sounds so certain like he's positive he will meet him one day. I nod and smile. I like the idea of Archer meeting my dad. I know my dad would love him.

"What about you?" He asks.

"What about me?"

"I know about your sister and your dad, but I still don't know a lot about you." His words ring in my head. It's true, he doesn't know a lot about me. He knows I came to Portland from London as an exchange student and that's it.

What do you say when someone asks you to tell them about yourself? It's easy to tell someone about the people you're close with but when it comes to yourself it's not so easy. I answer with, "well, my favourite colour's orange, I have an unhealthy obsession with garlic bread, I've watched all of Leonardo DiCaprio's movies multiple times, I-"

"Something actually important." He rolls his eyes playfully.

"You don't think Leonardo DiCaprio is important?" I gasp in horror. I'm offended that he classes the legend that is Leo as unimportant. He raises his eyebrows, giving me an 'are you kidding?' look. I give in. "I can play the piano, is that important?"

He smiles, not a grin or a smirk, a smile. "It's better."

"Thank god," I joke. "I learnt to play when, I think, I was around eight or nine. I spent most nights after school learning. My dad would always be angry with me because I did that instead of my homework. He couldn't blame me though; he understands homework's just a mild form of torture."

He stands up unexpectedly and offers me his hand. I look at it confused. "What are you doing?"

Instead of letting me take his hand, he grabs mine instead and pulls me up. "Tyler's parents have a piano."

I gape at him. "They do?"

"They do, you should play it."