I walk through the doors to the school and scan the area for Archer almost on instinct. Students shuffle through the hallways like ants scurrying to their colony. Penny gawks at one of the freshmen whose hair is standing on end from all the hair spray. I notice these things but barely.

We wander towards our classes and my eyes jump from one person to the next, praying they don't land on Archer. Let's be honest, he wouldn't be hanging around at the lockers like everyone else. If he did happen to be doing that then he definitely wouldn't blend into the crowd. He sticks out like a sore thumb. Not because of his appearance but because of how he carries himself.

Take the girl to my left, for example, she's clutching onto her pink backpack for dear life, hunched over with her glasses nearly falling off the end of her nose. The boy on my right is hurriedly grabbing things from his locker and stuffing them under his arm. His polished shoes squeak as he shuts it timidly before walking away.

Archer isn't like any of them, he's different. He wouldn't simply shut his locker and leave; he would slam it so hard that students on the other side of the school would hear him. He would stalk away, and people would part for him. He definitely wouldn't be clutching onto his backpack. Why? Well, it's because he doesn't have one. He doesn't care about bringing things to class, he thinks that simply being there is enough. Who cares about writing notes?

I'm certain that none of these students is him but I continue to look anyway. I don't want to see him. I don't want to see him. I don't want to see him. I keep reminding myself of this. I'm only looking so if I do see him, I can hide and make sure that we don't cross paths. That's the only reason.

"What are you doing?" Penny follows my gaze.

My eyes widen as I nearly choke on air. I place my hand over my chest and try to stop the coughs that wrack through me. I've been caught red-handed. "Nothing," I trail off once I regain control of my body, but she doesn't seem to buy it. "What are you doing?" I turn the question on her.

She squeals, instantly forgetting her previous concern, and I know that it worked. I'm in the clear. "I'm thinking that it's almost homecoming!" She looks as if she could jump in the air for joy. I wouldn't be surprised if she did.

"Don't remind me." I roll my eyes lazily.

"Don't you want to go?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "I don't know if I'm feeling up to it."

She gapes at me as if I'm a new species that she's trying to figure out. I see the coils turning behind her eyes and I already know what's coming. I prepare myself for the storm. "You don't want to go to homecoming!" Oh boy. "Are you sick? Do you have a fever? Is that why you're not thinking straight? Do you need to go home and rest because if you do, I can drive you?"

I shake my head, wafting away her questions with my hand. "I just don't feel like celebrating, that's all."

She stops in her tracks, placing her hands on her hips. A few students mutter rude remarks when they have to go around her, but she doesn't notice. "You can't be serious? You can't come here and not go to homecoming. It's practically a rite of passage!" She whisper-shouts.

"I guess I'll have to book the next flight back to London then," she gives me an 'are you serious?' look and I laugh. "I'm joking. Seriously though, I'm still exhausted from Friday. You and Brody were a lot to handle, let me tell you. You were laying on the beer pong table for God knows how long and then you had a water fight on someone's bed. Do you know how tiring it is to do damage control all night long?"

My words cause laughter to rumble through her chest. I'm glad someone's laughing because I definitely wasn't. I didn't find all of the glares that I got that night amusing. "We really don't know how to handle our alcohol." She states.

"You can say that again."

Once she finally gives in, she groans. "Fine, I'm not going to force you to come. Just know that if you happen to change your mind my closet is your closet." Classic Penny.

Once we reach our classes, we part ways. I push open the door and slip into my seat in the middle of the room. The teacher, Ms Willows, is behind her desk pushing keys on her keypad as I unzip my bag, placing my notepad and pen onto the desk.

It doesn't take me long to notice that everyone around me has their homework out on their desk. My heart sinks. I was too caught up in finding Archer that I forgot to do it. The girl to my right, I think her name is Kiera, shoots me a sympathetic smile. She must have caught on to my lack of organisation.

The lecture starts which means that I have exactly sixty minutes to think of an acceptable excuse. I have a feeling that my dog ate my homework is off the table. Maybe I accidentally dropped it in the bathtub is better.

*

Six minutes pass in the blink of an eye, and I still have no idea what I'm going to tell her. The last time I had detention it was eventful, so I'd rather not go through that again. Ms Willows steps away from her desk and starts collecting everyone's homework off their tables.

My heart pounds in my ears. What do I say? She's five people away from me. Do I just say that I didn't have time? Four. No that definitely won't work. Three. I could offer to mark all her papers for the next month. Two. This isn't going to go well.

One. "Ms Roberts, you're homework please."

"Um, well-" I start, wiping my clammy hands against my trousers with a gulp, but I don't get the chance to finish my sentence as a knock on the door captures her attention.

I keep my eyes glued to my desk. Maybe if I don't make eye contact with her again, she'll think that I already gave her my homework. That'll probably give me an extra day to actually do it. Then, I can just say that she forgot to ask me. It was her fault, not mine.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm here for Madison Roberts." The voice announces. My grip on my pen loosens causing it to drop to the floor.

"What do you need her for?" She asks accusingly.

"The principal wants to see her." I know that voice. I can't get it out of my head, not since yesterday anyway. It replays over and over like a broken record and I'm left sniffling to myself in my room each time.

My hair's covering my face so he might not have seen me yet. I sneak a glance. He's handing a piece of paper to Ms Willows, probably a note of approval from the principal, but his eyes aren't on her. They're on me.

My heart races and I look away. I can't go with him. If the principal needs to see me then I'll walk myself. I don't need someone taking me to his office, especially not him.

"Ms Roberts, " I sink into my seat, "you're free to leave. I'll send you the rest of the work. I expect it to be done before the next lesson."

I can't get out of this. Ms Willows has spoken, I can't just defy her. That would surely get me detention. Even worse, the principal has requested to see me. If I don't go then who knows what could happen. Would he suspend me for directly ignoring an order?

I gather up my things, making sure to pick my pen up off the floor. I feel Archer's eyes on me, but I don't look at him, I keep my gaze glued to my feet.

"Oh, Ms Roberts," she starts and my lips purse into a line. "Please bring the homework with you next lesson too." I nod my head and shut the door behind us.

We're submerged in silence. Not a comfortable silence, this silence is extremely agonizing. A silence that makes you want to scream just to hear some sort of noise. My breathing grows heavier as we walk and, before you say anything, it's not from my lack of exercise. It's because I have him next to me!

I gulp nervously. My palms grow sweaty, and I have to readjust my grip on my notepad when it nearly slips out of my hands. Is it hot in here? There should be more windows open, maybe even a door.

"Why does the principal want to see me?" I bring myself to ask.

He glances at me before training his gaze back in front of him. "You'll see," is all he sees. His mysteriousness is starting to get on my nerves.

I huff and keep my mouth shut. The less talking we have to do the better. I want to keep my time with him to a minimum. No, you don't. I shove my inner voice to the back of my head. It doesn't know what I want. I know what I want and it's not him. Definitely not him.

The next thing I know, Archer is grabbing my wrist and dragging me into an empty classroom. His touch sends my heart jumping out of my chest. I fall back into one of the tables and grip onto it to steady myself. He slams the door shut before turning the lock.

It dawns on me why he pulled me out of class. The principal never wanted to see me. He just wanted to get me in a room alone with him. That son of a gun. He knew that I wouldn't be alone with him willingly, so he did the next best thing, he kidnapped me. Even worse, he has an alibi. Ms Willows thinks that I'm with the principal.

"Damn you." I spit.