the next morning.

A man in a high-vis jacket was stood by the window, wrapped snugly in a variety of layers. He wore a hat and a scarf, too, but I could still see his flushed cheeks from the cold.

I sprang upright, whereas Archer took his time rubbing his eyes and sitting erect.

"Vous pourrez conduire dans environ dix minutes, Monsieur," he said through the window.

[You will be able to drive in about ten minutes, Sir]

Archer glanced at the wrist watch still decorating his arm and nodded.

The guy went on his way to the next car, notifying them of the same.

I looked down to the weight resting on my waist and coughed a little awkwardly. Archer removed his arm, promptly, but didn't say anything about it. I decided not to, either.

We both started getting up, easier said than done with two people taking up the back seats, both laying down. I got up first, forcing my way back into the front seat, taking my blanket with me. Archer waited for me to be done, before returning to the driver's seat the outside way.

We stayed in silence for the ten minutes, and the rest of the drive afterwards.

The next time we spoke, we were already approaching the chalet— a towering, mansion-like place, but looking as if each layer of snow encasing it had been put there specifically, just for the... aesthetic.

"Woah," I said, cutting the silence a little bluntly.

"Autumn and Noah are already here," Archer said, ignoring my comment, as a figure approached us.

"Monsieur," the man greeted Archer, shaking hands. "Ah, Madame!" I was immediately engulfed in a hug by the brusque, well-built man with a thick french accent. "Mademoiselle Redwood has told me so much about you. You had difficult journey they say on the news. Mais you are here now, eh?"

"Snow storm came early, Martin," Archer said.

"Ah," he said with a slight frown. "Ah well, I cannot be right all the time." He seemed to remember something then, starting a little violently. "I am so rude, not introducing myself. Forgive me, Mademoiselle. My name is Martin La Guerrec."

"Jolie," I supplied. "Jolie Dubois."

"Dubois, it is a French name, non?" He commented. "Parlez-vous français?"

"Bien sûr," I said, making Archer raise his brow.

He launched into conversation with me, asking me about my heritage and anything else he could. I didn't mind all that much, but I could feel Archer's impatience.

I paid him little mind, though. Because, despite my french being frightfully, chaotically rusty, it felt like I was submerging myself into a warm bath speaking it again; a breath of comfort I didn't know I needed.

"We really ought to be going," Archer said, staring at me pointedly.

"Oh right, yes," I said. "It was nice to meet you, Martin!" I called. He waved, going to the car and then began hauling the suitcases out. I pitied him, really, as I looked up at the stairs, likely icy. But Archer was halfway up and I didn't particularly want to be locked out, so I followed hurriedly after him.

"Jolie, oh my god!" Autumn let out the moment my foot had stepped through the doorway. "We were worried sick."

"When did you guys get here then?"

"Must have been about six last night," she said, looking at Noah. "Something like that right?"

"Six to seven," he agreed. "Thought you'd gone over a mountain. Poor little Jolie, huh, you'd be a goner." He came over to me and messed up my hair, putting on a soppy expression.

"I think anyone would be a goner if they fell off a mountain, Noah." I wriggled out of his grip.

He shrugged, smirking. "I'd have a better chance of survival than you."

I scoffed. "Yeah, whatever you say. You'd sink right into the snow with that big head."

"Something to keep me anchored," he said. "You'd fly right away, like a little cometa."

"I would not." I stood, hands on hips. "I mean, look at all this." I motioned to my arm.

"Look at what?" He said, poking my non existent muscles that I always argued were there.

"Muscle, duh." I said, pushing up my underarm flab with my fingers. "Muscle weighs more so I wouldn't 'fly away' like a whatever you said."

"Okay, I believe you," he said, less than convincing. In a blink, I was hoisted into his arms and thrown over his shoulder. "Nope, would definitely fly away."

What was with the Elite all being stubborn arses? I give up.

***

We were all in the living room area. Autumn sat on the sofa, playing with the spinner, whilst Noah, Archer and I battled it out like children.

"Left hand, green," Autumn said.

Noah reached over me and under Archer to the green and just about had it when... his socks slipped on the plastic mat and he fell sideways onto the carpet. "Mierda," he muttered.

With the hand that was on red, I flipped him the finger with a grin.

"Ah, Ah, ah," he said, pointing to me. "Her hand is off the mat."

"Technically," Autumn said, taking her position as spinner and ref very seriously. "Her hand is still touching it, it's just one finger."

"What about disqualifying her for being rude?"

"I think it's a warranted gesture," she said, nodding seriously. "Right foot blue."

It was my turn to move, so I reached for it.

As if the Twister gods had seen my unsportsmanlike act, I felt my feet slip from beneath me and grabbed onto the nearest thing. I squealed as we went down.

Archer and I fell in sync, but at the last moment, he moved in such a way that we switched positions. He now took the brunt of the fall as I fell on top of him, grunting as his back hit the ground.

"I'll let you win that one," I told him, rubbing my knee— the only part of me that had hit the floor, albeit not very hard. "You can have the trophy."

"Much appreciated," he muttered, wincing as I scrambled off him.

Autumn handed him the trophy aka a tube of Jaffa cakes. He pushed himself off the floor and accepted them. She looked at my flushed face, and to Archer's own impassive one with a brow raised. It was the mirror image of the one I'd grown accustomed to seeing on Archer's face when he was deep in thought.

She's broken out of it when Noah, slumped in the corner of the sofa, lets out a large, over dramatic yawn.

"I don't know about you guys," he said, pushing himself off the low L-shaped settee. "But I'm going to bed." He reaches the doorway before saying, "Adiós" to us all and for my eyes only, the bird. I rolled by eyes, and flipped him off again, too.

"He's right," Autumn sighed, as if it physically pained her. "I'm off to bed."

I nodded, before realising I had no idea where I was sleeping. "So... where's my room?"

Autumn turned by the door, again, that thinking face prominent. "With Archer, of course. Unless... there's a problem?"

"There's no problem," Archer interjected before I could. "Right, Jolie?"

"Right," I said. "No problem at all."

***

Okay, so it was a huge problem.

Archer showed me to the room we would be sharing and, I don't know why it shocked me (he was only one person, after all), there was only one bed. Yes, I'd shared a backseat with him for the night recently, but that was a one off. How was I possibly going to survive for four more days?

I must have zoned out for longer than I'd realised because by the time I grounded myself again, Archer was in his bathroom. Once he was finished, I went in after him, awkwardly crossing paths as I squeezed into it as he came out.

I stared at myself in the mirror for far longer than necessary, scrutinising myself and giving myself a mini pep talk, you know, like a bit of a psycho.

By the time I was done, Archer was laying on his bed, arm tucked under his head as he was watching tv from the screen that had been hidden in the end of the bed. Some old, black and white film was flickering on it.

"Didn't take you as an old film's lover," I said, coming to stand on the other side of the bed.

"I'm not particularly," he said. "I— what are you doing?" He was watching, bemused, as I picked up a pillow from his bed and, already with the blanket from the car under my arm, walked over to the middle of the room.

"Sleeping on the floor, obviously."

"Come on," he said, and then with a groan like he was battling inner conflict. With reluctance, he said, "Look, you sleep here, I'll sleep on the floor."

I though about it seriously, I really did. And I was willing to accept his offer, as selfish as it sounds, until I realised just how selfish it was. I was staying in his luxury chalet in France, for free, I couldn't kick him out of his bed.

"I can't let you do that," I said, standing beside him, placing my hand on his arm to stop him getting up.

"Then stop being a baby and just lie down with me."

"Oh, shut up," I said, climbing into bed beside him. "I'll be perfectly fine, so long as you do not cross this border." By border, I mean the few pillows I'd sacrificed to put in between us.

In fairness, the bed was pretty huge. Someone would have to be pretty spread eagled to be on his side and mine. The other side, I mean, not my side exactly. God, stop overthinking everything.

I buried myself in the duvet, snug like a burrito in the covers. I breathed deeply at the delightful smell... don't overthink it, Jolie. It was so warm and comfortable, I just couldn't resist the weight on my eyelids.

"Night, Archer," I mumbled into the duvet.

He was probably on his phone now, scrolling through the seemingly limitless supply of emails to answer. The film more like background noise than his main source of entertainment.

"Night, Jolie."

I'm so overwhelmed with love right now; I don't really know what to say. only: thank you, thank you, thank you. I really can't tell you how much I appreciate each and every one of you, from the consistent commenters and voters who always seem to have only lovely things to say (and hilarious) to the people that read only when they can.. thank you.

50k is such a weird number to think about, so I'll try not to too much. I really try not to obsess about numbers, but I wanted to show my appreciation because it really does make my heart swell.

AWMRB is going to be over reasonably soon (about fifteen-ish chapters) and so to reach this milestone is such an incredible way to say good bye to this story.

again, thank you!!!

love, rosie x