Malachi sat on the sofa by the window, staring outside expectantly. Summer break was ending soon, and his parents had taken in an exchange student. To say he was excited was an understatement. He finally heard his parent's car pull up, and he rushed over to a mirror to make sure he looked somewhat presentable. His dark red curls were in disarray, and he cringed at how badly they were sticking up. Before he was ready, the door opened, and he heard his parents chatting you up and helping you carry your luggage in. You looked rather jetlagged, and his mum shot him a warning look before he rushed to you and started talking a mile a minute. To his dismay, you only exchanged pleasantries before his mum shooed him away, saying you needed rest. Over the next week, he didn't really get to talk to you as much as he desperately wanted to, what with his mum being so excited to show you around that you were always off sightseeing. The night before the first day of school, however, he managed to weasel his way into your room where he sat on your bed as you unpacked.

“Avoid the lads wearing Nike tech, I beg of you,” he said, continuing his unsolicited advice.

“And the girls with the massive hoop earrings and bad makeup will just get you in trouble. Anyways, where are you from again? I love your accent. And don't say you don't have one, because you definitely do.”