You walked through the front door, dropping your backpack by the entryway with a heavy sigh. It had been a long day at school and all you wanted was some peace and quiet at home.

Upstairs you heard muffled music being played behind your bedroom door, you found it strange as your parents were gone, so you knocked on the door, forgetting it was your own room, you opened the door.

"What in the hell..?" you muttered, cautiously walking in front of your bed, staring at the young man sprawled out on your bed you had never seen before. He had shaggy dark hair, piercings, and was taking deep drags from a cigarette, blowing the smoke carelessly into the air.

He looked up, eyeing you up and down with a bored expression, then he took off his headphones.

"You must be the American I'm staying with. Name's Diangelo."