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Mamihlapinatapei

Yaghan, noun: a look shared between two people with each wishing the other will initiate something that which both desire, but neither wants to start.

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The next morning, Gabriella woke up in a bed with a pounding headache and a throb in her fingertips. That should have alerted her right away that something wasn't right, but instead she rolled over in the bed and stared up at the ceiling, breathing in the scent around her. It was comforting, whatever it was; a combination of sandalwood, pine and Axe body-wash. She turned on her side and burrowed further into the sheets, bringing a hand up to her face. It was then that she paused.

What?

On her right index, ring and middle finger, as well as her the pad of her left thumb and pinky were bright blue and red Spiderman bandages. She stared at them curiously, gazing at the little red spiders and the masked comic-book hero. Shifting in the bed, she sat up.

Where was she?

Suddenly, it all came back to her. The house, Edward's betrayal, Troy's confessions. She felt dizzy and pressed a hand to her forehead, yelping when it hurt. That's right...the paper-cuts. She had trashed Edward's room. She took in her surroundings.

She wasn't in a trashed bedroom.

Her eyes felt puffy and sore as she blinked, trying to get her bearings. Instead of sitting in the middle of feathers, glass and paper, she was on a bed. In a strange room. She sat up further and looked out the window. It was overlooking the guys' backyard. Well, she was still in the house, at least.

She shouldn't feel this numb. She should be crying, shouldn't she? She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. She hated this feeling; this feeling that something was completely and utterly wrong and there was no chance in hell it could be repaired.

Edward had been unfaithful, point blank. He had spent the last year and a half flying back and forth between Albuquerque and Los Angeles, sleeping with Sharpay, the blonde dance instructor and then coming home to her. She scoffed, rubbing at her tried eyes and wishing things were different.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to yell and scream again, but she couldn't find her voice and the tears weren't coming. She was spent. She had gone the last three months feeling broken over a man she had thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with. Yet the whole time, he had a secret double life.

She wondered momentarily if she would have ever found out. If years down the road with two and a half kids and a white picket fence, she would discover a voicemail or a photograph. She wondered if they would have even made it to the alter.

Either way they hadn't and now she was left with this hole in her chest and this numb feeling that was settling in around her, debating whether or not it wanted to be permanent. She thought of her late fiancee, his grin and slicked back black hair, his deep brown eyes and she felt angry.

Fuck him.

Running a hand through her hair, she glanced around, trying to find some sign as to where she was. The walls were painted a dark charcoal colour and the sheets she was lying in were white, a stark contrast to the black duvet over her figure. A sleek black dresser and desk were on the other side of the room, a silver iBook perched on top with an iPod dock next to it. Over the dresser was a collage of black and white photos and in the corner by the closet was a stack of wires and electrical equipment. It was the camera and the grey beanie on the night-table beside her that tipped her off.

Troy's room.

Swinging her legs over the bed, Gabriella noticed there was a band of gauze around her shin from where the glass had pierced her last night, fastened with more Spiderman bandages. She frowned again. Why was she in Troy's room and why did it appear that she had gone for a trip at the kindergarten doctor? Shuffling over to the other side of the room, she surveyed the belongings on top of the desk. There was a brown leather watch, the band and face large. There were stacks of paper with scribbled words across their lines and an empty Coke can. On on top of the dresser was a thick leather book. Picking it up in her hands, Gabriella realized it was a portfolio, the same one he had been flipping through when he came home yesterday.

Unable to resist, she inspected it carefully. Behind the leather and the zipper contained, no doubt, hundreds of images, things Troy felt was his best work. After seeing what he had did the other day with Angie, she was curious about his work, but didn't care enough to look. Even still...it couldn't hurt.

She heard movement from across the hall and dropped the book with a resounding thump, worried she might be caught. She flung her robe on and decided to leave the room once and for all. It wasn't safe here.

Stepping out into the hallway, Gabriella frowned as looked at the space by the door across from hers. Four empty beer bottles were grouped there. Carefully, she picked them up, noticing that the labels had been picked off and or nearly peeled off.

Funny, she thought to herself, before descending the steps downstairs. It was only nine AM so there was a fifty fifty chance that all the men of the household would be up, but there was also the chance that they weren't morning people. It was Saturday, after all.

As luck would have it, the kitchen wasn't abandoned when Gabriella entered it moments later. While it wasn't bustling with activity, Chad stood at the stove scrambling eggs. He looked over his shoulder upon seeing her and smiled gently, before frowning when he noticed the bottles in her arms.

"Um, hi," he said cautiously and she set them down one by one on the counter, nodding in response. "Where'd you find those?"

She shook her head before opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of milk. "Hallway."

Chad didn't say anything, wondering whether he should prod or let her dictate the pace of the conversation. He went back to scrambling his eggs, peering at her out of the corner of his eye every so often. She grabbed a box of generic wheat cereal and poured it in a bowl before taking a seat at the table. She moved her spoon around, but rarely brought it to her lips. At this, Chad cleared his throat.

"Um, did you want some eggs? There's plenty." He got another shake of the head as his answer and he sighed, before piling them onto a plate and taking a seat across from her.

She looked so small in the chair, so frail and fragile. He took a bite of his eggs, not nearly satisfied from the taste and sighed, knowing he was going to bring it up sooner rather than later.

"Gabriella," he began diplomatically, and briefly wondered when he had been the mature one in the house. When he had evolved from wearing t-shirts with silly slogans and caring around a basketball, making stupid jokes and puns; to attempting to keep everyone happy, walking on eggshells. When he had suddenly decided that he needed to keep everyone together? Despite what he wanted, he knew that it all had started when the girl sitting across from him entered their lives.

She looked up, blinking, but not saying anything. The way she was looking at him, however, told him that he had her attention.

"Are you going to continue to stay here?" he asked delicately, "Or did you want to leave?"

The silence that followed was nearly excruciating for him. He didn't want her to go; after last night, he felt that she needed to be protected, kept safe and between the four of them, even if one may or may not be a willing participant, he knew this was possible. He didn't want her going out on her own. He anxiously awaited her answer.

"I don't have a choice, do I?" she whispered, running a hand through her limp hair. "Where else am I to go? I can't face my mother just yet and I don't have the money to stay in a hotel. So yes, I guess I am here to stay." She shuddered inwardly at the thought, knowing she was going to have to stay in Edward's old bedroom and that sooner or later she was going to have to face the mess she had left in it. Her body was too tired to think about it.

Chad nodded, satisfied. "Alright," he said, taking another bite of his eggs and a sip of orange juice before choosing his next words carefully. "Troy says you can stay in his room."

Her head jerked up and she stared at him, unsure if she had heard him correctly. "What?"

Chad met her gaze. "Yeah. He offered it to you since...well, we all kind of figured that you wouldn't want to stay in...in his room, and quite frankly the only place available is the couch. So after Troy put you in his bed last night, he forfeited his room and decided to take residence there until—"

"Wait, what?" Gabriella asked, shell shocked. "It was Troy who put me in his room?"

Chad furrowed his brow. "Well, yeah. How else do you think you got there?"

You put me there, Gabriella thought to herself, Jeff did, Jason. It hadn't occurred to her at all that Troy had been the one to make sure she was comfortable, wrapped up in his sheets. It had been stupid of her not to realize it though; it was his freaking room, after all.

She lifted a hand, staring at the bandages. "So these..." She gazed at them. How had he done it while she was sleeping?

"Troy." Chad swallowed. "I know you're mad at him, I'm upset, too. But he was pretty broken up last night. He feels awful, despite the past you two share. I don't think he slept last night; I found him on the couch this morning and that's when I found out you had been moved."

She scoffed. "Broken up about it?" she said quietly. "Doubt it."

"He drank all that last night, Gabi," Chad said softly, pointing to the empty bottles. "He's not a big drinker, despite the casual beer. I think that has to say something."

"So he moved me to his room so I would be more comfortable," she summarized, "Because he couldn't sleep because he felt awful about what happened?" She guffawed. "I don't believe you."

Chad pointed to the living room. "Go look if you're so certain I'm lying."

Raising an eyebrow, Gabriella paddled into the living room to investigate further. She felt her stomach twist at the sight her eyes fell upon. There was Troy sitting up on the couch, sheets crumpled at the end of it from the night before. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white v-neck t-shirt, sipping on a mug of coffee. He had dark purple circles underneath his eyes and Gabriella suspected by the way he pressed a palm to his forehead that he was hungover. She bit at her nail and stepped closer to him.

He looked over his shoulder at the sudden movement and stiffened. She raised a hand meekly and he nodded at her.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," he responded, blinking owlishly. He broke his gaze away from hers and looked at his reflection in his coffee mug. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. "I got out of bed, but that's not saying a lot." She looked back up at him. "Um, Chad said you put me in your room last night."

Troy looked up at her before looking away quickly. "Uh, yeah."

Twisting a strand of hair around her finger. "Um, thank you," she said quietly.

"No problem," he said, taking a sip of his coffee. He cleared his throat, looking down.

"And for this," she raised her hands, "I...thank you."

He shrugged again, nonchalantly. "It was the least I could do. Sorry about the cartoons; it was all we had."

"I don't mind," she said and she meant it. He took another long sip of his drink, before turning to look at her.

"I'm sure Chad's told you," he whispered, "but if you're staying, you're welcome to stay in my room. I don't mind the couch for a couple of weeks."

"You don't have to do that, I—"

"Gabriella," he cut her off, "Yes. Yes I do."

She bit at her nail again. "Oh. Well, then, thank you." She turned to leave then, feeling the weight of the air crush down upon her.

"Gabriella?" His voice propelled her backwards and she glanced at him. His gaze was fixed downwards once again.

"I'm sorry," he said so quietly she had to strain to hear him. Gabriella nodded, before turning to go back into the kitchen, leaving Troy with his thoughts.

---

Really, she should have just left the room alone. But Gabriella was never one to think rationally when she was upset, so after the men cleared out of the house; Jeff to work, Jason and Chad to the gym and Troy downtown to take photographs, Gabriella quietly snuck into Edward's old room. It was late in the evening; almost eight o'clock. They had hung around all day, trying to find things to keep Gabriella preoccupied. At two-thirty, when Jason suggested 'Family Game Afternoon', she had left the room, gone to Troy's room and simply lied on the bed, drifting in and out of sleep. When she wasn't sleeping, she cried. Now was her chance to revisit the mess she had created.

Cracking open the door, she let out a gasp when she realized just how angry she had been. The room was in shambles, broken wood and glass covering the floor. Though Troy had pulled her from the wreckage, he, nor anyone else, had bothered to clean it up.

She scoffed. Why would they? She wasn't the only one angry with Edward, angry with Troy. She shuddered as the air settled around her and in careful steps, made her way over to the closet.

The ripped up pieces of Sharpay's photos still sat on the floor, and she felt her eyes prick with tears at the sight of them. She would not come here again, not anytime soon, anyway. Taking a deep breath, she closed the door quickly and raced back to the room across the hall. Troy's room.

As soon as she stepped into door, she flung it shut and leaned against it, breathing heavily. She felt instantly calm; the smell of sandalwood relaxing her. Despite her feelings towards the owner of the room, she couldn't deny that here was much safer than any other place in the house.

She couldn't go to Edward's room, for obvious reasons, and she didn't dare go to the kitchen, as that's where it had all gone down. Shouldn't she want to get out of this room, too? Troy was a part of everything, was he not?

She looked down at her bandaged hands again. Someone who hated her, someone she treated so badly, someone who wanted her hurt...they wouldn't have done this. They would have left her crying in her room, stinging cuts and all. Yet Troy hadn't.

What did this make him? She could no longer classify him as the asshole she had made him out to be. He clearly wasn't. And all things considered, he had been honest with her; brutally, maybe, but honest.

She never would have thought him to be these things; honest and well...caring. She remembered the pained expression on his face after she struck him and she pressed a hand to her face. It was still haunting her.

Whether she liked it or not, she knew things between she and Troy Bolton were about to change drastically. They shared something now; a mutual betrayal and hatred for Edward.

This didn't replace the anger she felt towards him, the frustration of knowing that he had been aware of Edward's infidelity for over a year and never uttered at word. She couldn't fault him though. Maybe, if she had been more amiable, more civil, he would have told her. Maybe she wouldn't have felt as much contempt towards him as she did, and maybe she would have believed him.

She knew he was right, though. He had no reason to tell her given the nature of their relationship and even if he had, she wouldn't have believed him. She would have cut it down to jealously, that Troy was upset that Edward was successful and in love. An attempt he could have made would have been futile.

Taking a deep breath, she laid on his bed; the sheets cool and his scent pleasant. She inhaled, letting the comfort over take her and she fell asleep.

She fell into unconsciousness then, dreaming disjointed scenes. In her dream, she had been at the alter at a wedding, Edward standing before her in a gorgeous tux. The bride however, was not her, but rather a thin blonde in a poofy gown.

"Edward!" Gabriella whispered, trying to run forward. Her legs were restricted, and she glanced down. Gabriella was wearing jeans, damn the material and Edward's shirt. She brought a hand up to her hair to run her fingers through it, but yelped. They were still bloody, the bandages having disappeared, and onto of her head sat Troy's beanie, pulled down comfortably over her ears. She shook her head, and attempted another step forward. She slid on something, and fell to her knees.

The floor was drowning in photographs. She lifted them, cutting her fingers deeper in the process. There were hundreds, photos of Sharpay, of Edward, of Angie the model and dozens of just blue eyes; someone's blue eyes. She shuddered, trying to stand, but slipping again.

"Edward, don't!" she gasped. She tried to run towards him, but every step she made, she stumbled on photographs. She felt herself fall to the ground once and for all, but before she hit the sea of paper; a hand grasped her wrist. She turned slowly.

"I've got you," she looked up and was stunned to see Troy holding her up, his grip strong. "Don't worry."

"Bolton..." she whispered and he shook his head, gathering her sore fingertips and kissing them. She pulled back, but he held on tighter.

"I've got you," he repeated, seriously and she frowned.

"Why?"

He smiled slightly before responding. "You've got my hat."

She awoke hours later when the sky had already turned dark, only remembering bits and pieces of the dream. How she really slept that long? She had passed out around eight, when it had still been relatively light out.

She turned in the bed, deciding that sleep wasn't going to come to her again and slipped out of the jeans and t-shirt she had weakly pulled on. Carefully, she pulled out a long nightgown from her suitcase and a terricloth robe before setting across the room to go downstairs.

Stepping gingerly down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone, Gabriella noticed that the kitchen light was on. She glanced at the Kit-Kat clock on the wall in the living room and frowned. It was nearing four in the morning.

Drumming her fingers over the banister, she debated on whether to turn and go back up to Troy's room, or whether she should just bite the bullet and go get her glass of milk. She had no idea who was up, which one of the four men in the household couldn't sleep.

Sighing, she descended the rest of the stairs and paddled across to the kitchen. She felt her muscles tense when she saw who was there, but she shouldn't have been surprised.

Troy was seated at the kitchen table, dressed in nothing but a pair of red plaid pajama pants. He was hunched over a bowl of Fruitloops and was moving his spoon around, swishing the sugary circles in the pink-tinted milk. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than ever and she glanced down at her bandaged fingers and felt tears prick at her eyes.

He looked up slowly, his eyes growing wide upon seeing her. "Hey," he whispered.

Willing the tears back, she nodded at him before pulling out a chair at the table. "Hi."

He looked her up and down, as if searching for a sign that she might break at any second. "Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head, keeping her gaze down on her twisting hands in her lap. "Sort of."

He straightened, letting his spoon drop against the rim of his bowl. "Were you uncomfortable?" He said quickly. "I changed the sheets and everything before I took you up there last night, if that's what you're worried about. The mattress isn't too old, but I know there's a groove in one side and—"

"Troy," Gabriella said gently, cutting him off. "It's fine. Really. Thank you."

He looked away then, clearly embarrassed. "Just one of those nights then?"

She chuckled bitterly. "Just one of those lifetimes, really."

"I wanted to tell you," Troy murmured. Gabriella watched as he methodically grouped the remaining soggy cereal; all the red loops here, all the green ones there. "I wanted to tell you everyday, but you and I..." He looked up at her then, "We're hardly amicable with each other."

"I'm mad at you," she said honestly, "I'm not going to pretend that I'm not because I am. However...you didn't owe me anything," She grasped a strand of hair and plucked at a split end. "You had no reason to tell me anything. You were right. Your loyalty was to Edward."

Troy swallowed, his eyes back on the cereal bowl. "If I had told you, would you have believed me?"

Gabriella didn't say anything for a moment, weighing her options. "No," she answered confidently. "I wouldn't have."

Troy nodded. "That's what I thought." He shoved the bowl away from him.

The silence transcended over them like a thick blanket in spring weather. It was neither comfortable, nor awkward. It was just there and they were stuck with it. Over the years, they had never exchanged as many words as this without raising their voices or using expletives. Gabriella considered this as she traced patterns onto the wood of the table.

Troy Bolton had become an enigma. She had hated him for three years without any real reason and sitting across from him now, she realized this. She realized she didn't know him at all. She didn't know what his childhood was like, nor did she know where he went to school or what he studied. She never knew his interests and she never knew the minutiae, things like his favourite colour or first kiss. She had never bothered.

Why she should have? He didn't want anything to do with her, he made that clear. Hadn't he? She scanned her mind, trying desperately to find a time in which he had hissed that he hated her, just as she had said to him so many times. Nothing came to mind.

As if reading her thoughts, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I never hated you, you know."

Scoffing, Gabriella rested her head on the table, the wood cool against her cheek. "You had a funny way of showing it." Even if he had never said the words, they were implied time and time again. She had lost count of how many times he had called her a bitch.

"I know," Troy said, "I was just...I was so frustrated."

"Why?" she asked, closing her eyes.

"I was frustrated because I hated Edward," Troy answered honestly and her eyes shot open. "Since we went to that stupid diner, I hated him. I hated that he was such a bastard and complete sleaze-ball. What he did was inexcusable."

He sighed heavily. "And you...I thought you forgave him. I thought you just forgave his stupid actions and took him back. To me, that was almost as bad as what he had done. So, in turn, I said some things that weren't so nice to you."

Gabriella yawned, feeling the tears prick at her eyelids again. "That's a stupid reason."

Troy shrugged. "I didn't know how else to act around you. I guess...I felt you deserved better than some son of a bitch who didn't care about you." He swallowed. "You still deserve better."

Here he was, this man she knew nothing about, whom she had been so angry at only hours before and she felt guilty. Shouldn't the roles be reversed? Shouldn't he be feeling irrevocably horrible for his actions against her? His reasoning for never telling her the truth? But the dark circles under his eyes told her that he did and she felt even more wretched. What would she be like if she was sitting in his chair and he in hers? Could she be good enough to feel remorseful? Or would she have been vindictive just to get him back for all those times he'd called her a bitch? When she realized she couldn't answer that question truthfully, her stomach dropped. There was a reason Edward had gone to Sharpay. Gabriella wasn't just enough; she wasn't good, either.

"Yeah, well," Gabriella said, feeling the tears run across her face; over her nose and onto the table's surface. "Maybe I got what I deserved. I haven't exactly been the best person in a long time." Or ever, she added mentally.

Troy shook his head. "No one deserves that."

"I'm sorry for what I said last night," Gabriella said suddenly, shifting so her forehead was pressed against the table, her hair fanning around her. "I know it wasn't intentional. I was just so angry. I am just so angry." She felt her frame begin to tremble as the tears rolled down her face freely.

"I didn't tell you," Troy said quietly, fidgeting with his thumbs. "I deserved every mean word in response."

"I'm sorry I slapped you," she choked out, "Oh my god, I'm such a bitch. I wasn't angry at you, I was angry at him. Oh god, I slapped you twice."

Troy bit his lip. "That's okay, I deserved it, I—" He glanced up and paused, seeing the top of her head and nothing else, her shoulders shaking. "Are you crying?"

"No," came the muffled response and Troy felt his heartbeat pick up at the sound of her voice.

"Hey, hey," he said softly, scooting his chair closer to hers. He placed his hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly. "Look at me."

"No," she mumbled, tossing her head from side to side. "I'm a mess."

"Gabriella," he said softly, gently, and the tone of his voice caused her to slowly lift her head, her watery eyes meeting his own red-rimmed ones. He was looking at her seriously.

"Don't cry over him," he whispered, his hand burning through the fabric of her shirt and onto her bare skin. She trembled, feeling the warmth radiate all the way down to her toes. "He's not worth it."

She bit her lip feebly as more tears coupled in her eyes. "I'm not just crying over him."

Troy searched her face for a moment before realization spread across his features. Recoiling from her, as if he had been burned, he looked down at his lap and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I'm not worth it either," he said softly. "Not in anyway shape or form." He rose quickly then and grabbed the roll of paper-towel, pulling a few sheets off and bunching them before handing them to her.

"Here," he prodded them at her and she let out a sob at his gesture. He sat back down, startled and pulled his chair even closer to her. "Hey, please, please don't do that!"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she whimpered. "I've been horrible. You hate me."

"I've never hated you, I told you," he whispered, shrugging. "I just don't understand you...or at least, I thought I didn't."

She looked up at him and the expression on his face felt like a punch in the gut. For the second time, she noticed how exhausted he looked and how similar he was to herself. His right cheek was still slightly swollen and she felt the bandages on her fingers and she broke all over again.

"Thank you for this," she said softly, "For the bandages, for your bed, for...for listening. You don't know how much I appreciate it."

"It was the least I could do."

He extended his hand and she stared down at it. "The paper-towel," he said softly, "I'll throw them out.

Slowly, she reached out her hand and dropped the damp cloth in his open palm. When she pulled back her fingers brushed his and she shivered. He was so warm...

Troy tossed the ball into the waste bin by the wall with practiced ease." He looked up, meeting her tired eyes and he frowned. "You should go get some rest."

She nodded. "You should, too."

"Nah," he answered, "The night is gone for me. I'm an insomniac on the best of days. You, however, can still salvage it. So, go."

She stood, feeling more exhausted than she had in ages. "Thank you," she whispered quietly and he nodded, before standing as well to retrieve the box of Fruitloops. Feeling the words bubble in her chest, Gabriella called out his name.

"Yeah?" he asked, dumping the cereal into the bowl he had abandoned.

"For the record, I hated you," she said, swallowing roughly and he flinched.

"Yeah, I'm aware, thanks."

"I said I hated you, Troy," she looked down at the ground. When had things gotten so awkward between them? "Not that I hate you. Now...now I don't know how I feel about you."

The box of cereal slipped from his fingers at her words and the contents scattered on the floor. Troy jumped, as did Gabriella.

"Shit!" he cursed, bending to clean up the mess, but as he did, his elbow hit the bowl and milk and cereal tumbled across the table. "Shit!"

"Oh!" she said, clamping a hand to her mouth. "Let me help you!"

"No, no!" he said frantically, his face flushed red as he grabbed the roll of paper towels from the wrong end, causing it to unravel. "Oh for the love of—"

Gabriella grabbed the paper-towels and ran them over the table, collecting the milk. Troy sprung into action and found the broom, gathering the cereal into the dustpan. As Gabriella put the empty bowl in the sink, she turned around and found Troy staring at her as he leaned against the bowl.

"You know," he began, flustered. "I think this is the first time you and I have ever had a civil conversation."

Gabriella thought about it. He was right. "Well, then. That's got to count for something."

When the mess was finally all cleaned up, Gabriella ascended the stairs to his room and glanced over her shoulder to find him leaning against the counter, arms folded over his bare chest and his cheeks still crimson. Despite everything that had happened between them, despite everything they had discussed and everything that had transpired over the last two days, Gabriella found herself smiling at the sight.

Her first smile since she had arrived at the house.

---

So chapter plans are officially finished as of sixth period English class on Tuesday. I currently have it planned out for seventeen chapters. The pacing in this chapter isn't as crazy extensive as TDBU, so that's why it's shorter. However, when I planned out TDBU, it was originally for 25 chapters and I cut it down, but I don't think this will be the case with this one. Everything has a purpose, I only have one or two filler chapters. So yes, good times will be had.

Also, I forgot to upload the third chapter song directly after updating, so if any of you missed out, it's up now. I really recommend downloading this chapter's, as it honestly is Troy's theme song for pretty much the whole story. And it doesn't even really give that much away, how lovely.

Thanks for all the support, you guys. I can't believe I broke 100 reviews at three chapters. You guys are amazing.