Penny tries to throw her car keys onto the table across the room but fails miserably. They land with a clunk on the tiles below. She simply shrugs before diving onto the sofa. "We're home at last!"

Brody isn't far behind. The blonde mop on his head bounces under the dim lights as he throws himself next to her and wraps his arms around one of the grey pillows. He nestles his head into the fluff as they converse idly about the film we just watched.

I roll my eyes, knowing that Penny will forget where her keys are and panic five minutes before school when she can't find them. So, I pick them up for her, depositing them in their usual place.

I pad across to them now laying back on the sofa breathless from excessive laughter. When I notice a dark figure out of the corner of my eye my heart stops. My steps come to a halt as I squint to get a better look.

It's Archer, I'd be able to recognise him anywhere.

My eyes shift from the comfort of the living room to his hunched frame sitting in the cold outside. I'd much rather stay warm but there's a part of me that wants to go sit with him. Considering he's out there alone, something must be going on.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He looks up. His face looks blank, more blank than it usually does, and his hair is dishevelled. It looks like he's run his fingers through it one too many times. I take a seat next to him and pull my knees up to my chest. The water reaches up to his knees as he dangles them in the water.

"Thinking," his voice is hoarse like he's recently been crying. My heart swells for him.

"About what?"

His bloodshot eyes meet mine, confirming my suspicions. "How fucked up life is."

I refrain from pulling him into an embrace. Even though I want nothing more than to do that right now I know I can't. "Do you want to talk about it?" I settle on, not knowing what else to say.

When I'm sad all I want to do is be left alone, I surely wouldn't want someone disturbing me asking questions I don't want to answer. But something tells me that he needs someone to be there for him.

He doesn't answer my question. Instead, he asks one of his own. "Do you ever feel like the entire world's out to get you?"

I sigh deeply, "yes."

I'm not a stranger to the feeling. Ever since my dad opened the door to the police that night and fell to his knees in front of me, I've felt that way. I understand that life is unfair. People are taken from you without reason, and you do everything you can to cling to the memories of them. You start to see everyone as a distraction or wonder if they know what you've been through. If they see you as damaged or broken. Sometimes you even see their curious glances as bone-crushing glares.

"Do you ever feel like giving up?" His words hitch in his throat.

I repeat my previous answer, yes. I feel my walls crumbling. Why am I telling him this? I've done so much to hide what I've been through from everyone yet here I am unable to keep my mouth shut. It's like I am incapable of hiding from him.

"What's stopping you?" He turns to me, his serious gaze on mine. The light pouring out from inside reveals the glossiness of his eyes. My urge to pull him into an embrace grows.

"Everything," I start, resting my chin on my knees. It's a simple question but a complicated answer. "My family would be crushed; I could never put them through that. I'd miss important things like my sister's first party or her first date. I'd miss her graduation and I wouldn't be there to calm her nerves when she's getting ready to go to her first interview. I'd miss all of her mistakes which most likely includes a terrible tattoo," I picture Sadie with a botched tattoo, and chuckle. "I'd miss my dad's second chance at love or the happiness he feels when he finally gets the promotion that he's been working so hard for. I'd miss it all."

I swallow the lump that's forming in my throat and blink away the tears that threaten to spill out. For a moment, I get lost in all of the thoughts. I have hope for the future, yet I know it would be better if my mum was in it. Maybe that's why I've wished for her return every time a shooting star passes over my head despite knowing my attempts are futile.

"You're too positive." His hands grip the edge of the pool.

I'm not as positive as people think although I'm definitely more positive than I used to be. It's been hard, there have been so many ups and downs. There have been countless nights of me crying into my dad's t-shirt. He's had to brush my hair out of my face and hum soothing tunes to me more times than I care to admit. My family are my support system. I know that I'm theirs too.

"There's no such thing as being too positive." I counter.

The conversation turns more serious than I thought was possible. His dark eyes pour into mine, making me feel small. "You scare me," he admits, and I gulp.

The wind hitting my face causes me to shudder, or it could just be his eyes piercing my soul. I can see them studying every insecurity I have, the freckles that are darker than most, or the slight bump on the bridge of my nose that I can't help but notice every time I look in the mirror. I pull the sleeves of my sweatshirt down to cover my hands.

"I do?" My head is tilted down but my eyes find him through my lashes.

He raises his hand and softly brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. The action is small but still manages to cause a blush to climb up my neck and settle on my cheeks. "Whenever you're around it's like I forget about the bad things and there's only you."

I want to tell him that I feel the same, but I can't string a sentence together. The words are a puzzle in my mind. I can't sort the pieces into the right order.

His surprisingly warm hand moves from my hair and to my cheek, wiping the pad of his thumb across it slowly. I close my eyes to savour the feeling. My heart's racing but I don't care. Whenever we touch a flame ignites inside me and I wish for it to never leave. I'm putty in his hands. He could say or do anything at this moment, and I would agree without hesitation.

Without warning, he closes himself off as his hands go back to the coldness of the bricks beneath us. I sigh inwardly, knowing it was too good to be true. No feeling like that could ever last forever. The flame dies down. I can't help the hurt that pools at the bottom of my stomach.

"Why do you do that?" The question slips out before I can stop it.

He acts clueless but I know he understands what I'm asking. "Why do you do that?" I repeat hoping this time that he'll answer.

He doesn't look at me when he talks. The certainty and arrogance that usually lies in his voice are gone, replaced with uncertainty and insecurity. "You drive me crazy," he starts, pulling his lip between his teeth. My eyes are fixed on him. "Whenever you're around all I think about is how soft your lips are." He drags his thumb across my bottom lip. I shudder.

"When you pushed me away that night, I was relieved." His words strike me hard. He's talking about the night of the party when we kissed in the darkness of the alley. No matter how many times I've thought about this conversation, I could never be fully prepared.

He notices the hurt that I feel from his words and rushes to explain himself. "I didn't mean it like that, I was relieved because if you didn't, I don't think I'd have been able to stop." He admits and I gape at him.

I was surprised I was able to stop that night too, but I had no idea he felt the same way. I know he admitted that he couldn't stay away from me in the school corridor, but it still never felt real. Who is lucky enough to come to another country and find amazing friends and a boy who's interested in her? It never felt real until now.

The truth that just left his lips scares me as much as it scares him. I can't stop myself from blurting out, "I haven't been in the pool yet," and before I know it, I'm kicking my shoes off and tossing them to the side.

"What are you doing?" He furrows his eyebrows. I cringe inwardly at my inability to talk to him. It seems I can be open about my past but not my feelings.

It's too late now. I've already said it, my shoes are already off. I didn't plan on getting in the pool right now, but I don't have any other choice. It's too late to take it back.

"I'm going swimming," I state. The idea sounds as crazy to me as I can see that it does to him.

"You are?" Confusion and amusement are evident on his face. Well, I'm glad to know that my inexperience in talking to boys amuses him. Am I that inexperienced that I'm willing to jump into a pool at this time on a school night? Yes. Yes, I am.

I jump into the pool seconds later and automatically gasp. The cold water wraps around every inch of me, causing my eyes to widen. I move my arms like my life depends on it to try to warm up. Why did the thought of the water being cold not cross my mind? I don't look over to him, trying to avoid the embarrassment I know is coming.

"It's cold," my teeth chatter as he throws his head back in laughter.

"I could have told you that."

My eyes narrow. "Why didn't you?" I ask accusingly.

He holds his hands up in surrender unable to stifle his laughter. "I didn't have the chance." He's right. My decision to jump into the pool was an impulsive one.

"It's actually starting to warm up," I pull my lips into a tight-lipped smile. It sounds like I'm trying to convince myself more than him...because I most definitely am! This water has gotten ten times colder in the last minute. If I stay in here any longer, I might come out with one less toe.

"Do you need me to get you a towel?" He shakes his head in amusement.

"If you want to," I shrug, "I mean you don't have to, I don't mind. But if you feel like you do want to then go right ahead. I won't stop you." I ramble on.

He stands up and retreats inside to get one. When he's not looking, I mutter a ton of curse words and scramble to the edge of the pool so I can pull myself out. He comes back when I'm stood on the bricks again with my wet clothes sticking to me uncomfortably.

His steps falter and his grip on the white towel loosens. He drags his gaze from my face, down my body, and then back again. His eyes darken as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. I squirm not from the cold but from the way he's looking at me.

"I'm still cold." I remind him plainly, contrasting my racing heart.

"Oh, right." He shakes out of the daze he was in and wraps the towel around me.

I thank him and try to smile but my teeth won't stop chattering. The fabric feels like a comforting hug, it's still warm. I'm thankful when the feeling in my toes starts to return. I can wiggle them, that's a good sign!

"Why did you do that?" He questions.

Because I'm stupid. That's the real answer but I don't want to say it. "I don't know," I tell him which is partly true. If I wanted to avoid whatever was going to happen before I put myself through that torture, I could have just complained I was tired and locked myself away in my room. The throwing myself into cold water part wasn't all that logical when I think about it.

I scare him, the feeling is most definitely mutual.

"You're crazy. " He laughs.

"That's me," I sniffle as I wrap the towel tighter around my body.

I sneak a look at him, and our eyes connect. My breath hitches in my throat when he doesn't look away. "We should probably go inside," I feel the magnetic pull between us, and I know he does too. He starts inching towards me.

"We should," I agree but I don't make any move to leave. "They're probably wondering what's taking me so long."

He hums in response. There are now only inches between us, but I still don't move. My heart is racing faster than I thought was possible and when his hands brush my arms, I lose all restraint. I press my lips to his.