Hi.

So I'm not dead, I've just been away. Last week I was in Chicago for the Jesus Culture Awakening Conference (which by the way, was incredible) and then I spent some extra time in Chicago exploring and taking pictures of buildings and stuff.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I've been busy. I wish I could've updated earlier. But you guys have been amazing (so many nice reviews for last chapter I think I laughed hysterically for three minutes straight) so thank you so much.

Highlight of the Day: I just spent the past twenty minutes trying to login to FanFiction, but it wouldn't let me. Then I realized that I was using the wrong password :S I'm a genius :P

I look at Dr. Wyatt and she looks at me. We've been stuck in this silence for over thirty minutes. She can't force me to talk if I don't want to. And if she claims that she has all day, well I have all day too.

"You know, we could do this forever," she says in a levelled voice. Not showing any emotion at all. Well two can do that.

"I know," I answer back in the exact same way.

She stares me down. "We aren't making any progress by doing this. We're just wasting your time and my time."

I snort. "Well it's not like I have anywhere else to be. You should know that from your research."

I point at the little brown "Max" file folder in her lap.

"You really are stubborn," she states plainly. Nothing in her voice gives away that she's mad, or frustrated, or ready to give up.

Damn.

Dr. Wyatt crosses her arms. "You know, you're mom told me to call her if you were being uncooperative. I'm trying not to do that, because your mom really seems like she may cry at the mention of your name, but you aren't giving me a choice."

That's a low hit. My mom? That's the one soft spot I have left. My mom's been an emotional wreck for weeks, and I guess I'm not making things easy for her, but Dr. Wyatt bringing her into this is playing an unfair card.

A phone call to my mom would devastate her and then she'd do something stupid like call my dad and then there will be a freak out of epic proportions. Dr. Wyatt can't call my mom, she can't. Except I know she would.

But I guess all is fair in love, war, and therapy.

I can't help it, I cave.

"Fine, I kind of ruined my reputation by doing some skanky stuff."

Page Break

I wake up the next morning feeling warm. Cozy. It's been a while since I've felt that way, so I'm trying to soak it in before I have to open my eyes. I won't openly admit it, but I really do miss feeling warm and safe, a sensation that has been absent since the incident happened and everything went awry. I want to just bask in this moment and remember it forever. I need something to hold onto in my mind.

But something feels wrong.

I open my eyes briskly. Light is filtering in from a small box window near to the ceiling, hitting the foot of the bed. The bed sheets are dark grey, and the comforter is black. Something about this is important, but I can't remember what. That's when I hear the breathing. And I suddenly notice the arm wrapped tightly around my waist. And then I notice the skin tone of that arm. And then I notice just how naked I am.

Oh shit.

I immediately get up and hastily out of the bed, grabbing the nearest shirt off the ground, which is obviously black, covering up as much of my body as possible, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. Or more, last night. It doesn't help that I have a killer headache. I hate hangovers.

Nicks stirs at my sudden movement, looking up at me with sleep-clouded eyes. And when it finally registers in head, his eyes widen a fraction of a millimetre. But I guess that's his version of complete astonishment.

I feel like I've just been sucker punched.

"Yeah, we fucked up. We fucked up really badly because you're my best friend's boyfriend and I hate you and you are the literally number one most off-limits person and we just...oh god." I say it all in one breath, finally starting to freak out as it starts to settle in my head. Oh god, I just fucked my best friend's boyfriend.

And I know I'm not a saint, but I've never done anything this bad before. Never mind, that's a lie. I've done worse things.

But I swore I'd never do bad things again. Not like this.

Nick's staring at me, and I'm staring at him. We don't say a word as a couple minutes pass in dead silence. For a second I think I'm dead and I've gone to hell, but that thought passes quickly. It's like I'm thinking a million things at once, but nothing at all. My head is pounding, and all I can think is that even though I'm not super close with Lissa, I still betrayed her. Majorly.

I break the silence.

"What have we done?"

Page Break

"Define 'skanky stuff'," Dr. Wyatt asks. She has an amused smile playing at her lips. She's trying really hard not to laugh, but she's pretty much failing.

I almost laugh with her. I really must be really far gone if I'm laughing about how I fucked up my life and ended up in a psychiatrist's office. "I think it's self-explanatory."

"Okay, but what exactly did you do that made everyone hate you?" she asks, her fingers tapping against her knee.

Since I don't really care, I answer honestly. "It's not even like I fucked around with that many guys. It was only two. Girls at my school went around doing way more guys than I did."

Dr. Wyatt sits back with a surprised look on her face. "So what exactly made them hate you the most?"

"It's simple: I just fucked around with the wrong guys," I say nonchalantly, fixing my gaze on the far wall of the room. There's a painting of a field of flowers hung up with an expensive looking frame. Well isn't that just pleasant. I turn back to her. "It really isn't that complicated, everyone just made it seem that way. It's not like I meant for everything to happen the way it did."

Page Break

I try to flatten out my mess of curls, but it's not working. I run my fingers through the worst tangles, but eventually give up, resorting to a half-assed ponytail. At least it looks sort of decent...ish. Then onto another beast entirely: my makeup. My mascara, eyeliner, and eye shadow are smeared in a terrible mess surrounding my eyes. I wash my face three times before settling and excepting some of the remnants of makeup on my face will not come off any time soon. It looks presentable enough to be seen in public. I glance sideways into the mirror, where I can see Nick lying on his just-made bed. He'd found some sweatpants and a t-shirt on the floor and resorted to wearing that while I had to put on my dress from last night again.

I hate how suffocated I feel while wearing it.

I look at Nick, who is lying there, staring at the ceiling. He still has a bit of my bright red lipstick on his jaw line. I shudder, thinking about how it got there.

I can't stand to look at him, I close the bathroom door.

Nick, since his bedroom is alone in the basement, has his own bathroom. I can't help but be envious of him, because sharing a bathroom with Ella is super annoying. I didn't know it took people that long to wash their hair, but Ella seems to try to set new world records. Lucky me.

For a guy's washroom, everything is pretty neat in here. He has some deodorant on the counter along with the cologne Lissa bought for him a while back and a towel hung on a towel rack—not perfectly folded or anything, just neat enough. He isn't one of those guys who gels his hair a certain way each morning or anything, and as far as I can tell, shampoo is the only thing that gets in his hair. A razor is off to the side, and I guess that's why his face always looks smooth.

Lissa hates guys with beards.

Everything about here reminds me of Lissa, which makes everything I did last night with Nick so much worse. Because something in my mind should have reminded me that Nick was Lissa's, and I was supposed to act strictly "hands-off".

But even if Nick wasn't with Lissa, I mean, he's still on my list for people I never wanted to hook up with. I can't just forget about how he's a major asshole and how he's spent years just trying to make me feel inferior to him, especially when I was with Dylan. God, how could I just forget how much I hate him to do that? I think that's what I'm the most angry about. And as much as I want to peg this on him, I can't stop the sickening feeling rising in my stomach.

Guilt. I just keep screwing everything up. I think I'm finally above these sorts of things and then I mess up again.

And it's always extraordinary the way I fuck things up.

I check my appearance in the mirror one last time, but the slight glance is enough to repulse me. I can't even look at myself right now.

I open the door, looking directly at Nick. "Get up, let's go."

Nick raises a quizzical eyebrow at me. "'Let's'? I think you're on your own for this one."

That asshole.

"You have to give me a ride home," I state firmly. "I'm not asking you, I'm telling you."

"What if I say no?"

He smirks at me. Girls fall over that smirk but all it does is infuriate me. I want to slap it right off of his fucking face.

But I keep a calm exterior and my voice remains patient. "Are you actually denying me of a ride home? Because how do you think Lissa would feel if I told her that you took advantage of me last night?"

My eyes narrow at him, and although my tone is light, he hears the depth behind it. He scowls at me. "Took advantage of you? Please. I didn't do anything of the sort."

I resume my light, friendly facade. "Oh really?"

"You know it's true," his eyes narrow in on me, "Besides, isn't it girl crime to go after the best friend's boyfriend?"

"Yeah, girls don't go after friend's boyfriends," I say vaguely, "But think about it; my side sounds better than yours. I mean, it's the stereotype. You're the guy who's on the football team, and I'm just your girlfriend's friend that you brought home. And I'm smaller than you, and the house was empty and it just seems pretty fucking sketchy, don't you think?"

I shoot him and innocent smile, and he rolls his eyes. "Everyone knows you're a tank. Didn't you do kickboxing for years? Nobody would buy your story."

"Think about it," I go on anyways, "What was the first thing you did when we got here? You got me drunk. That's suspicious as fuck. So just get up and fucking drive me home, or else I'll conjure up some fucking fake tears and tell Lissa that you used me. And let me warn you; when the girl cries, she wins."

I've lost the smile, and I'm dead serious. I'm glaring at Nick, and he's glaring at me because we hate each other and that's just what we do. He just has to drive me home; I'm not asking him to die for me or anything. He's just being a total dick right now. I don't want to have to deal with this. My head hurts and I have an awful hangover and all I want is to go home.

He caves in. "Fine. Whatever. I'll drive you."

The entire ride passes in complete, eerie silence. We don't so much as look at each other. He weaves his way through the Sunday morning traffic as he makes his way towards my house. He pulls up onto the driveway and stops the car, finally looking at me.

"I won't tell if you don't."

The words catch me off guard, I've become so accustom to the silence. I take a moment to process the words before nodding. "Not a soul. Don't you dare even tell Jeff."

He smirks. "Oh Max, a gentleman never kisses and tells."

"You're not a gentleman. That's why I'm worried."

I open the car and get out, slamming the door behind me. I make my way up the pathway and climb the steps to my front door. I hope it doesn't look like a walk of shame. I ring the doorbell once.

I'm greeted with my mom's face as the door swings open. She looks tired, but she'd gone through a lot of work with Ella's sweet sixteen, so I can't blame her. Her eyes widen when she sees me. "Where have you been?"

Her tone isn't angry, just a bit worried. I shrug. "I slept over at Lissa's house. She wasn't feeling so good so we left the party early, but I didn't have my keys to the house. She told me I could just stay at her place for the night. I would've called, but my phone battery died."

Mom's face relaxes as I explain things to her. Of course, it's all a massive lie, except she doesn't know that. But then her brow furrows again. "That wasn't Lissa's car that dropped you off."

Think fast, think fast... "Yeah, that was Nick's car. You know, Lissa's boyfriend. He was picking her up this morning and so he said he's drop me home."

I hope that I'm not blushing.

If my mom detects that anything is wrong, she doesn't show it. Instead, she just sighs. "Okay Max. Just use the landline to call me next time, okay?"

I smile. I genuinely love my mom. She's always on my side. "I will."

I walk up the stairs slowly, counting the steps as I climb. In total, there are sixteen. I saunter over to my bedroom and shut the door behind me. I know I should shower, but I just don't feel like it. Instead I change into a comfortable, old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I fold the dress on my bed before heading back downstairs and grabbing the keys to my mom's old Toyota. It's about a million years old (okay, maybe it's only fifteen) but she kept it for me to drive around when she got a newer car earlier on this year. As dumb as it sounds, I kind of like it better than any new car. It just reminds me of home and warmth.

Not a lot of things remind me of that anymore.

"Mom, I'm taking the car!" I call out while slipping on an old pair of converse. The colour has faded from bright blue to more of a dusty, light blue. These used to be my favourite shoes when I was fourteen.

My mom rounds the corner with a cup of coffee in her hand. "Where are you going? You just got home."

I lie through my teeth. "I have a project to work on with Megan Georgini for English class. I just remembered we were going to meet up to work on it this morning. I'm actually late right now, but I promise I won't be home too late. Maybe in a couple of hours?"

My mom sighs, exasperated. "Go on."

I exit the doorway and jump into the car, jamming the key into the ignition. I back the car out of the driveway and head down random streets, driving at a leisurely pace. It's Sunday morning, so it's not like there's going to be that much traffic. Besides, I've got hours to kill.

The sky is an awful gray colour; not quite like rain clouds, just gray. The sun pokes through the clouds every once in a while, but not consistently enough to be considered partially sunny. Nothing looks good today, it's like Mother Nature is trying purposely trying to make everyone in this city feel depressed. What a bitch.

I wind the car through street after street until I'm driving along a deserted road. The road itself is old as hell, unfixed potholes that have been there ever since I can remember. Trees line either side of the road, tall trees that have been there for multiple decades. I try to tell myself I don't know where I'm driving, but that's a lie. I know exactly where I'm going as I make my way along the old, bumpy road.

Out here is just farmland; like orchards and stuff. I think Ella and I came orange picking out here when we were younger. Jeb had taken us. It had been a good day, the sky was cloudless and the sun lit up the world. It was one of those days that makes you want to capture the moment forever.

So basically, the opposite of today. I stop the car in front of an old farmhouse. There's a barn out back, but it's used to store cars rather than livestock. It's a pretty big property, the backyard extending out to meet a forest. The family that lives here is gone for now; it's an old, retired, rich couple that wanted a house to go to for vacations, to relax. They're not coming back for another couple of months.

I put the car in park and turn it off. I step out.

Just being here, I can feel the heavy bass line, music playing so loudly the vibration goes through your feet. Distant sounds of laughing and dancing fill the air. I can almost see the millions of cars lined up along the shoulder of the road. I close my eyes, and it's if I can smell the strong scent of alcohol; cheap beer and what not. Maybe I smell a little sweat and cologne in there too.

It's a party. Everyone is having a good time, school is out and this summer is going to be the best yet. That's what everyone thought.

I walk over to the empty house, climb the steps, I sit on the swinging bench on the porch. This is where JJ used to live. This is where countless sleepovers and play dates and tea parties took place.

Jennifer Joy's family moved away in July. They'd sold the place as soon as possible and drove away with their moving van, Wisconsin bound. They said it was because Mr. Joy got a promotion and needed to relocate to a new office. That was hardly the reason.

They just didn't want to admit the real one. No one else wanted to either.

I get off the swing and walk off the porch. This place is like a haunted house; everything about here reminds me of Jen. I can almost hear her laugh whipping through with the wind.

I miss her so much I don't know how to describe it. I hate that one person can just be here and then gone somewhere far, far away. Out of sight, but definitely not out of mind.

I make my way around the house and into the forest. The sounds of the party are getting louder. Music is filling the air and everyone is dancing, having the time of their lives. Girls in short skirts are running over to their boyfriends while others are just drinking in little groups. Everyone is wasted. Nobody is looking out for anybody but themselves.

I keep walking. I move forward to the forest, but stop right before I enter. JJ and I used to play hide and seek and manhunt with her brothers in dark, using the trees as protection to hide.

No one plays in this forest anymore.

I take a deep breath before walking in. I feel dizzy for a second, so I close my eyes and snap my fingers until the sensation disappears. And I trudge on, following the slight path to a small clearing. I fall to my knees, searching the ground for anything that could be left here. I don't care what I find, I just need something. I dig around frantically for an eternity, but as usual, I come up empty handed.

Of course nothing's left here, I scold myself, there's never anything. It's not going to change on the sixteenth visit.

But for some reason, I just keep searching. I can't stop myself. I can still hear the music, but it's softer here, farther from the safety of the party. This forest isn't where anyone wants to be, the trees loom over me menacingly. They seem to know what I did. I can't lie to them as easily as I do to everyone else.

I turn to the left and throw up.

Page Break

"So you did some regrettable stuff. We all make mistakes Max," Dr. Wyatt says in a flat tone.

I'm staring into space, looking for something that isn't there. "I didn't. I never made mistakes before."

Page Break

"Did you have any plans tonight?"

I look up from the TV and face my mom. She's got her veterinarian clinic ID card around her neck and her work bag slung over her shoulder. Probably some call about a dying dog.

I shrug. "Nothing yet. Why?"

My mom shifts the bag from her left shoulder to her right. "Catherine called. She was wondering if you could babysit the kids tonight. If you can't do it, I'll ask Ella."

The kids. I haven't seen them in months, and somehow, I actually miss their faces. "Yeah, I'll do it. It would be good for me to play with them for a bit."

My mom smiles at me. A genuinely warm smile, not the fake, worried ones she's been shooting me more recently. "Head over in about half an hour, okay?"

I nod, and go back to watching some random sit com.

When the time comes to leave, I grab the keys and stuff my feet in my shoes. I'm about to go when the doorbell rings. I open up to find a grinning Jeff.

I send him a questioning look. "What are you doing here?"

He shoots a quizzical look right back at me. "We were supposed to study together tonight," he says, showing me his physics binder.

I mentally face palm. I vaguely remember making plans to "study" with Jeff. "Shit sorry, I can't. I'm babysitting tonight. I mean, you can come with me and wait for them to fall asleep, but that's pretty weird. Not to mention sketchy."

He shrugs, not getting the hidden message that I don't really want him there. "Sure, why not. I love kids."

"That's because you are one in your mind," I roll my eyes at Jeff's excited expression. I internally groan.

He frowns at me. "Sure, whatever. I wasn't a child when you gave me a blow—"

"Shut up," I cut him off, my cheeks flushing red. I check behind my shoulders to make sure someone, like Ella, isn't eavesdropping on our conversation. Because I think I'd die if she was.

I convince Jeff to let me drive his car, something I've been dying to do since he started giving me rides to places, as I make my way towards the Richardson's house. I haven't been here in a while, but I used to drive there so much that the route is probably permanently engraved into my brain. Getting there is just instinct.

Jeff (surprisingly) stays quiet the entire way. He looks out the windshield expressionlessly for what seems like forever. Huh. Maybe Nick is rubbing off on him.

I pull up in the driveway, not even waiting for Jeff as I make my way up the walkway and ring the doorbell. It doesn't take very long for two small, blonde heads to appear in the window beside the door, excited grins on their little faces. The door swings open immediately.

"Max!"

Angel doesn't hesitate to run and hug my legs tightly. Her name completely suits her appearance; a sweet face like a cherub and a halo of golden curls. She's possibly the most adorable thing ever to live, and she's just like my baby. I guess she's six now, and she's grown a lot since I last saw her.

"Look Max, I have a wiggly tooth!" she exclaims proudly, showing off what is indeed, a wiggly tooth.

I can't help it, I grin right back at her. "I'm sure it's going to fall out soon."

"Hi Max."

Gazzy is a little more reserved in his greeting. I mean, now that he's eight, he's not as hug-pro, but he still beams at me. He looks a lot like his sister; same hair, same smile, same adorable looks. Only, his hair is spiked up in certain places.

Gazzy's real name isn't Gazzy. It's actually Ryan, but he likes to mess with people's head and switch up his name when meeting strangers every once in a while. I mean, as far as I know he's also gone by Zephyr, Captain Terror (which he couldn't even spell right), and the Sharkalator. But his latest name is the Gasman which is derived from his rather... special digestive system.

Both of the kids eyes lock on something behind me as Angel squeals. "Iggy!"

Suddenly I'm forgotten as the run out and tackle Jeff. I just stare in confusion as Angel wraps her small arms around his legs and Gazzy is nearly exploding with excitement as he starts to ramble, "Guess what Iggy! I just created some detonator the other day that work from up to fifty yards away! They're so effective!"

"Iggy?" I ask, completely bewildered. I meet Jeff's eyes and he smiles.

"Oh Max," he laughs, "Angel and Gazzy are my cousins."

I take a moment to process that. "Why 'Iggy"?"

Angel giggles cutely. "Because when I was little mom called him a 'piggy' but I couldn't pronounce 'p' so it came out as 'Iggy'."

"And then it just stuck," Gazzy finished. "Iggy's our favourite big cousin."

Jeff just sent me a winning smile. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

Page Break

"Can we get some food up in here? I'm starving," I say randomly.

Dr. Wyatt doesn't look surprised. "Sure. Um, what would you like?"

I pause for a moment and think about it. "Just a ham and cheese sandwich. And a chocolate chip cookie. The cookie is the important part."

She laughs. "Whatever makes you happy, Max."

I manage to send a real smile in her direction as she picks up the phone to call food service.

Page Break

"So like, the bomb is a lot more effective when we use the long distance detonator..." Jeff was rambling on about explosives to Gazzy, both of them grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Angel and I were playing with her barbies in her dollhouse, brushing out their hair and dressing them in pretty dresses. I want to gag. She smiles at me. "Thanks for playing with me Max. Gazzy refuses to play barbies with me now. He says they're too girly."

"He's just being dumb," I assure her, working out a particularly difficult knot in the barbie's hair, "But he can't help it; he's a boy. It's not our faults girls are much more evolved than them."

"Hey!" Both boys yell out.

Angel smiles at them smugly. "Well it's the truth."

I laugh and give her a high five. "You're beyond cool Angel."

She blushes cutely as she reaches towards another doll, passing it to me. "This is my favourite doll. She looks a lot like you, Max."

I take a good look at the doll. Strangely, it does kind of look like me. It has the same sun-streaked hair, brown eyes and a lightly tanned skin tone. The similarities end about there though.

"She's pretty isn't she?" Angel says, looking at me with big blue eyes. "She's perfect, just like you, Max."

The air gets caught in my throat so suddenly that I feel like I'm going to choke to death. My left hand grips the Barbie tighter and tighter as I pinch my left arm with my right arm until the feeling subsides.

I breathe in as calmly as I can as I check to make sure no one has noticed my I-don't-even-know-what-to-call-it, but everyone is acting normally. I sigh in relief.

But I don't think I can play Barbies anymore. Not after that.

So I sneakily change the subject. "Are you guys hungry?"

Angel and Gazzy nod their heads rapidly. "Can we have Kraft Dinner?"

That involves using the stove, which isn't exactly the safest idea for someone as culinary impaired as me, but I smile back at them anyways and head to the kitchen.

As it turns out, they don't have any Kraft Dinner in the pantry.

"I'm sorry guys, but there aren't any boxes of Kraft Dinner left. What else do you want to eat?"

I try not to look directly at their disappointed little faces. I instantly feel like shit.

Angel pouts and gives me puppy-dog eyes. It's terribly cute. "But Max..."

Jeff decides that this is the right time to join the conversation. "You know Angel, I could just whip up some homemade macaroni and cheese. Do you guys want to help me?"

I look at him like he's out his mind. Him? Cook? Please.

But he pulls out all the necessary ingredients and sets Gazzy up to grate cheese while he gets the water going and Angel monitors the apparatus.

I'm still confused. "Why on earth do you have flour out?"

The look Jeff sends me is so condescending that I want to hit him. "The flour is what makes the cheese stick to the pasta."

He acts like this is an obvious fact.

What's worse is that after I somehow screw up stirring the pasta and spill hot water all over the stove causing it to make an awful sizzling noise, they all turn against me. Even Angel is glaring.

Jeff smirks. "Maybe it would better if you stepped out of the kitchen. At least until we're done."

I want to slap him but instead I just take my dismissal like a champ and walk away. That's me, suave. If I was a total fembot, I would be going apeshit about being upstaged by a guy in my cooking skills, but everyone knows I'm not that type of girl.

The worst part is that when we sit down to eat, it actually tastes really good.

Page Break

I bite into the sandwich mercilessly. I'd given up on having good table manners a month ago. I don't care as crumbs rain down on my lap.

"Is it good?" Dr. Wyatt is chowing down on a sandwich of her own—peanut butter and jam I think—letting the crumbs fall onto her clothes too.

I nod. "It's fine."

I take a huge bite of my chocolate chip cookie. Clear vanilla notes; soft but not too soft; semi-sweet chocolate chips. Overall, not a bad cookie.

But still, it can't even compare to my mom's homemade cookies when their fresh from the oven. I haven't had those in a long, long time.

Page Break

"You never struck me as a kid-person," I mutter to Jeff.

It's about 11:31 and the kids are fast asleep in their rooms. Jeff and I are lounging on the couch waiting for Catherine to come home. I have my feet kicked up on the coffee table.

"Well, they are family. And someone needs to teach Gazzy how to create awesome explosives," he smiles jokingly.

I smile with him. "I know. It's just that I always saw you as the popular guy who too absorbed with himself to care about anyone, much less children. Well, before I really started talking to you."

He touches his lips to my cheek. It's soft and hesitant and careful, sort of sweet. And for a moment I allow myself to enjoy the way if feels, to let myself feel comfortable in his arms; protected, safe. That warm feeling that's hard to come by nowadays, at least for me. One of his hands grips mine and it's surprisingly soft without being too soft (maybe he moisturizes?) and I know I shouldn't be allowing myself to enjoy this because I don't deserve to but I let myself anyways because I'm just a bad person like that. I promise myself that I'll make up for it later.

So for this short moment I let myself act as though this is okay and it's alright to share this moment with Jeff.

He turns and looks me directly in the eyes. "You know that can't be true then. I'm not completely self-absorbed."

I'm caught by the intensity in his bright, blue eyes that I can't even think of a smart-aleck response. "I know now."

"Because," he continues, "I really do care about people. I care about you."

Oh no.

Reviews please?