𝒜rchie is the kind of guy you should stay away from. The kind who speaks with a rapid, defiant intonation, wears athletic clothes, and always has a hoodie up, with a cigarette or a joint sticking out of his lips. In Archie's case, he wasn't a victim of a stereotype like you wanted your parents to believe. No, no. He was a real criminal: he sold drugs, robbed people, and got into fights with other gangs with his mandem.

You weren't the kind of girl he should be interested in, the kind who wears athletic clothes, heavy false eyelashes, hair fried from too much black dye, and mascara. No, you were the opposite: the epitome of femininity. That's what he loved about you: how your hair was perfectly styled and shiny, those cute dresses you wore, your natural face, and your simplicity. You were different, and that drove him crazy.

Like every night, he was waiting for you at a party, standing on the front porch with his friends. He was leaning against the white railing, running a hand over his freshly shaved head while smoking a joint. His friends were drinking and chatting. Wren was proudly showing off his new tattoo on one of his arms. It was like the third girl's name he'd gotten tattooed. And as always, he was sure this was the one. Well, at least he wasn't hanging around with a lot of girls like Nico and Caleb.

Archie wasn't paying attention to the conversation; he was waiting for you to arrive. And he saw you. You arrived wearing a skirt that looked amazing on you, brown boots, and a white blouse. Always well-dressed. It was like you couldn't help it.

When you approached, he took your hand and pulled you toward him, making you stand between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. He hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

The music drifted muffledly from the house, trapped within those walls. Your boyfriend was talking to his friends when Wren brought up the tattoo again. He showed it to you.

— "When you gettin’ yours, bruv?" — Nico jokingly asked Archie, about the tattoo.

— "Man’s not tattooing her name." — Archie replied seriously. — "I’m gettin’ her eyes tatted instead." — He wasn't joking. he want to get your eyes tattooed.

Everyone seemed surprised. They didn't think Archie was the type of guy who would do something like that. He looked at you as he passed you the joint and kissed your neck, murmuring.

— "You’d like that, hm?"