The sunlight streamed in through the small spaces between the blinds, and I slowly began to wake. I felt a pair of arms holding me tightly as I gained consciousness, and I opened my eyes groggily, yawning as I turned my head. I saw Christian, sleeping peacefully as he grasped me like a security blanket, and smiled. The sunlight caught the natural highlights in his hair, surrounding his messy head in a shimmering halo. I turned my body in his sleeping embrace, and curled into his chest. In the morning light, the scars appeared once more, and I found myself studying them quietly. The marks from the cigarettes put out on his body made me burn as I felt hatred for the supposed parents that had lacked the emotion to feel remorse as they held the burning objects against their young son's skin. The slash across his chest was slightly raised where his body, aided by what I could only assume were far more stitches than any person should ever have to wear, had knit the skin and flesh back together; healing over to protect him from being exposed. I lightly brushed my fingers against it, and a pain stabbed my heart as I struggled to fathom a woman so demonic that she would have willingly done such a thing to her own child. I wondered if any of this would ever make any sort of sense to me, but when I looked back up at Christian's face, I found myself distracted. A faint mark peeked out from behind his hair, and I remembered the wooden cutting board he had told me had hit him the first time. Carefully, I pushed his hair back above his forehead, and I saw it - a slightly sunken scar on the right corner of his forehead.

I saw stars for what felt like an eternity...and then I felt something hot covering my face.

My stomach churned. His biological mother had truly been a monster. I remembered that he had mentioned on a handful of occasions that he had a new family now. I wondered who they were, and if they had been the blessing that came into Christian's life and saved him from the hell he had been burning in during his youth. I contemplated asking him after he woke up, but set the thought aside to ponder further. I didn't want to push him to tell me too much at once. We didn't need to move too fast.If anything, he had told me so much the night before that I still needed to process it all. I curled into his body and closed my eyes; no longer tired, but simply savoring the closeness we shared as we lay together peacefully. It was official - he had stolen my heart, completely.

My grey eyes opened slowly, all the more brilliant in the morning sunlight. "Good morning, Miss Steele." he said, looking at me like I was his most precious treasure.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey." I whispered softly, unable to tear my eyes away from his. When he was unconscious, all I wanted to do was comfort him. Now that he was awake, I wanted to marvel in him.

He brushed a strand of hair away from my eyes, studying me as though he shared the same sentiment. "Ana…" he said softly, "Don't move."

His words confused me, and I found it hard not to move when he jumped out of bed and ran out of the room. What was he doing?

He came back with a camera. It looked fairly old, but I didn't know very much about cameras, so I was uncertain of how old. I could just tell by looking at it that it was on the more professional end of the spectrum. I looked from the camera to Christian with questioning eyes.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are." he said, smiling lovingly at me as he held the camera in his hands; the shutter button beneath his index finger; poised the way a hunter would be prepared to take his shot. His words made me melt, and the butterflies in my stomach made it all but impossible to smile blissfully. I hear a metallic click and shift, and the camera was set down on top of his dresser. He came back to the bed and climbed on to it, crawling over to me so that he could place a kiss on my lips. I all too willingly kissed him back, drinking him in while we glowed with the morning sunlight.

"And now," he said playfully, "We need breakfast." He threw on a pair of boxer briefs and a plain white t-shirt before making his way out of the room once again.

I was reluctant to follow suit, but I sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, looking around the room for my clothes. They had fallen all around the room, and scattered themselves amongst Christian's own suit pieces. I caught a glimpse of my dress peeking out from beneath his suit jacket, and my panties lay in the middle of a clear area like a victory sign. I smirked as I rose from the bed, feeling shy yet empowered as I picked them up and slid them back on. I began to turn and reach for my dress when Christian's dress shirt from the night before caught my eye. I picked it up and brought it to my face, inhaling the cologne he had worn for our double date. The subtle yet rich musk of the cologne made me think of him, hot and passionate, kissing me on my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders...I shivered deliciously at the thought. I slipped the shirt on, buttoning it up from the bottom hem, and leaving the top three buttons undone. I left my hair down as I left the room, sweeping it all over my left shoulder as I felt my stomach growl; chuckling at the sensation. Christian was right - we did need breakfast.

As I stepped into the kitchen, Christian was busy pulling out frying pans, spatulas, and ingredients to make our breakfast. I slowly approached the island bar in the middle of the kitchen and rested my elbows on it, leaning slightly forward as I watched him work furiously.

"I never pictured you as a cook, Mr. Grey." I teased.

"Well, a man's gotta eat, Miss Steele," he replied, focusing on his work, "And I can be a very hungry man." He turned around and his jaw dropped as he saw me in his shirt. He took a few steps forward.

"In more ways than one?" I asked flirtatiously.

He nodded, seemingly mesmerized as I emerged from behind the island bar, showing that the hemline of his shirt fell inches above my knees. He darted back to his room and returned with his camera, intently snapping photos like a crazed model photographer. I laughed at him and sashayed playfully, pretending to be the model to his photographer. I tugged gently on the bottom hem of the shirt and bit my lip, shifting my weight so that my body curved and drew attention to my hips. I leaned forward and laughed again, more sensuously this time as I brought my hand to my lips and blew a kiss. He drew closer and closer, getting closeup shots of me, and I laughed again at the silly game we were playing. I didn't even feel self-conscious about whether or not I looked like I had just woken up, or if my makeup was smeared on my face from forgetting to wash it off before I fell asleep. I felt radiant at that moment, and confidence flowed through me as Christian drew closer and closer, the shutter clicking like morse code until it suddenly stopped.

"Out of film…" he said quietly, looking at me with a smoldering expression. Our faces were now inches apart.

"Now what?" I asked teasingly. "Breakfast?"

"Breakfast can wait for a little longer, don't you think?" he asked, wrapping an arm around my waist and drawing me in. There was no space between our bodies as he held me tightly. The closeness and the mood from our game had me eager to go back to bed. I stood on tiptoe and kissed him deeply, weaving my fingers through his hair as I grasped it and held him against me. He licked my lips as he kissed me back, groaning into me as he fumbled blindly for a place to put his camera, setting it aside on the island bar before wrapping his other arm around me, holding me even tighter than before. I felt my breath squeezed from my body as I kissed him again, more fiercely as I pushed him slightly backward, walking toward the bedroom. I was just as eager, if not more, than he was. I would claim him again as my own; my other half, my missing piece. We shared it in so many ways already, but this new level of sentiment had my body running almost uncontrollably. I was like a feral animal, running on nothing but instinct. We slammed against the wall beside the door frame for Christian's room, and he grunted while I whimpered.

"I'm sorry…" I murmured in his lips.

"He shook his head, kissing me passionately as he guided me a little further to his right, then slowly encouraging me to keep moving him backward through the doorway, and into his bed.

I had wondered if the first time had been a lucky fluke; that maybe because I'd never truly enjoyed the mutual desire for sex that I had been swept off my feet by the new experience. The second time we made love had me wondering if I could still argue that it was a fluke. Something about being with Christian Grey in that way left me feeling both completed, and yet, still wanting. I could feel the satisfaction lulling my body when we were done, but a small flame still burned inside of me, quietly nagging me for more passion, more elation, more bliss. I wondered if every woman felt like this when she gave herself completely to the man she loved. I also wondered if I would ever be able to think straight again, especially around Christian. I would never get to know more about who he was as a person if all we ever did was take our clothes off.

I sighed softly and smiled, closing my eyes as he rolled off of me;

encapsuling me with one arm. He kissed my cheek gently, and I felt him begin to trace his finger back and forth across my cheekbone.

"I can't get over how you affect me…" he said softly. "There's something about you, Anastasia...I can't help but be drawn to you…"

"Like a moth to the flame…" I murmured, echoing my own thoughts. I opened my eyes and looked at him to see how close I had gotten to mirroring his own thought.

He nodded. "My thoughts exactly." he agreed thoughtfully, his eyes studying my face as though he was trying to save every detail in his mind, like painting a portrait. Or taking a mental photo. I thought with a grin. Always the photographer.

Like a moth to the flame… I thought, again. This time, my mind seemed to add forebodingly; Just be careful that you don't get burned.

When I look back at those early times with Christian, I smile at the good, but I also hurt at the thought of how little I actually knew about him. There was so much more about Christian Grey that I didn't yet know; things that hurt us as a couple. Things that haunted him. Things that hurt me. I thought he had told me everything dark about his past, and yet, he had only shown me one chapter. I thought my relationship with Jose had changed who I was as a person, but looking back now, I changed so much more with Christian. A lot of it was good, but some things were not for the best, even remotely. I suppose that's why they call it growing older, growing wiser. But when you're only 20, you don't believe that you can possibly learn anything important enough to make a major impact in your life.

Christian and I continued to date for the next couple of months in a constant state of bliss. We would occasionally see each other at work, sharing secret smiles as we would attempt to treat each other professionally. Danielle would smile an all-knowing smile as we would interact, and when Christian would leave, she would pry for details as to how we were doing together. We would go to the movies every so often, and we would hold each other's hand as we stared at the screen. I would think about the first time he held my hand, and just as I would feel overwhelmed by the sentiment, he would bring my hand to his lips and kiss the back of it, making me blush like a silly highschooler. We went out to dinner a few times, too; though I usually made it a point to let Christian know how much I preferred his cooking, in his apartment, without any spectators to worry ourselves with. Dinner dates at home usually led back to his room; sometimes, by his lead, and others, by my own. Every time we were together intimately, it was intense, passionate, and consuming. Sometimes, I would be so consumed by him that, once we were done, I would come on to him again, trying to coax him to take me back in his arms so I could lose myself once more. He would get to the point that he would tease me for trying to kill him with sex, and we would both laugh at the ridiculous notion. We would go to the park together, just walking and talking while Christian would snap candid photos; sometimes, of the landscape, but mostly of me. It was as though he could never get enough pictures of me, and I grew used to the familiar clicking of the shutter as he would snap a photo here and there, no longer catching me off guard. Even though I had come to expect it, I never tensed or posed for his photos, unless I did so intentionally in an attempt to be playful or funny. I learned that the second bedroom in his apartment was strictly a dark room, and that he only ever used traditional cameras that required film. He held on to the old technology and refused to go digital. I remember sitting patiently in the living room , reading Tess of the D'ubervilles as I waited for him to emerge from the darkroom. When I heard the door click shut as he made his exit, I looked over my shoulder at him. He stopped and smiled at me, looking content.

"Hello, Mr. Grey." I said cheerily. "Did you have a productive visit to the red room?"

"I did, Miss Steele." he replied, smirking at me, "Though, you know it's called a dark room, right?"

I rose from the sofa and set my book down, walking toward him. "I know," I replied, smirking back. "I can't help it - the red light makes me think of a red room instead of a darkroom. Shouldn't a darkroom be dark?"

"You do make a good point." he replied thoughtfully, laughing at me. "I'll let it slide." He put his arms around my waist and kissed my forehead, and I sighed happily.

"You know," I said, a thought coming across my mind. "It's been a while since I've seen any of your photos published. Have you been having a hard time selling your photos?"

"It's been slow." he admitted. "But I'm sure my business with the paper will pick back up soon. After all, July 4th is right around the corner."

"Holiday events always make for plenty of candid shots." I agreed, "I'm sure you'll find something. But Christian...I don't want to be rude...but…"

"Freelance for the paper isn't my only job, Anastasia." he interrupted quietly.

This was a first for me, despite the few months we had known each other. He had another job? I had never seen or heard him mention it before. "It isn't?" I asked curiously.

"I also work for a private firm." he continued slowly, seemingly choosing his words. It seemed unusual considering how much he had been opening up to me in most recent times. "I'm a photography assistant for a private investigator."

This came as a complete surprise. Christian Grey, P.I.? "I had no idea…" I said quietly, trying to absorb what he had just told me.

"You aren't supposed to." he said quickly, adding, "The nature of my work, as well as my employer information and client list, are all private. I had to sign a nondisclosure agreement prior to being hired.

"Hmm…" I said slowly, thinking it over briefly before my hormones clouded my brain. "Christian Grey, P. I….That's actually kind of sexy…"

He chuckled weakly, stopping as I moved my hands up and down his chest. I looked into his eyes, and he almost seemed wounded. Confused, I gave him a questioning look and put my hands on his shoulders; studying my grey eyes in search of an answer for his unusual reaction. His cell phone began to buzz on the island bar in the kitchen, and he broke away from my grasp to check it. His eyes flashed with surprise, and he snatched the phone up and walked toward the front door.

"I need a moment, please, Ana." he said hurriedly, slipping out.

I felt even more confused now as he left me alone, and I crossed my arms as I waited for his return; thinking about his second job and how the mystery behind it seemed to bother him more than it bothered me. I wondered what it was about his work that made his mood change so drastically. Before I could fully review all of the possible causes in my mind, he returned from the hallway.

"I'm sorry, Ana, but that was my boss." he said, grabbing his car keys. "I have to go to the office."

"It's okay, Christian." I replied quietly, worried about how upset he seemed from the phone call. His eyebrows were furrowed, his complexion was pale, and my grey eyes seemed to be filled with uncertainty. Was that also fear that I saw? I wasn't sure, but my gut told me that it was. I stepped toward him, and he hurriedly stepped toward me, kissing me on the forehead.

"I love you." he said quickly, moving toward the door. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay," I replied, looking around the apartment as I tried to think of everything I needed to grab before I left. Christian seemed to forget I was there and already made his way to the door. I quickly grabbed my shoes and keys and chased after him, barefoot, out the door before he could shut me in. I tried to put my shoes on as he locked the door behind us, and wound up having to hurry after him with one shoe on my foot toward the elevator. When I stepped in behind him, I brought my foot back behind me and slipped the other shoe on as he hit the button for the ground floor. The door closed as I tried to catch my breath from our sudden departure, studying his rigid demeanor as he now seemed to be all business. Something was definitely bothering him, and it killed me that I didn't know what.

"Christian…" I said slowly, "Are you okay?"

He turned to look at me, and a new expression came over his face. He looked more like my Christian again, and in an instant, he swept me up in his arms, kissing me fiercely as we slammed into the wall of the elevator. I gasped for air between kisses, feeling the intense fire burning inside of me as his touch and taste sent every nerve in my body on a tangent of flames and electrical currents. I bit his lip and groaned against him, dying to push away from him and slam the emergency stop button. I could tell in his body language that he needed me; that need only drove me more insane, and I needed him just as badly. I moved my hips to press my lower body against his, and felt him reach down and grab the belt loops on my jeans to pull me tight against him, when a small ping sounded. In another instant, he let me go, jumped back, and smoothed out his clothes. The elevator door opened with him composed and back to being the quiet, professional Christian, while I stood beside him, disheveled and confused. He looked back at me one last time and offered a weak smile.

"I'll talk to you soon, Ana." he said quietly, slipping out of the elevator and sprinting to the front door.

I watched him with concern, confusion, and lingering desire. He had been able to compose himself in mere seconds, and here I was, still trying to regain composure. Was he not as affected by me as I was with him? I was positive that couldn't be true. But there was something going on that was affecting him, and I could see it with how he was now acting with me. I only hoped I would get some answers later, when he promised he would call me back. I walked outside and found my car, parked along the sidewalk. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, putting on my seatbelt and starting the car. I made sure to put on my bluetooth before I started to drive, knowing that I was bound to get a call from someone if I forgot to use it. Within minutes, I heard a familiar beep in my ear. I laughed at the good sense I'd had to put on my hands-free device, and I tapped the button. "Hello?"

"Ana, sweetie!" I heard my mother on the end and drew a sharp breath. "How have you been? I haven't heard from you in ages! You're not working too hard, are you, honey?"

"Mom!" I exclaimed, feeling guilty for having missed her phone calls for the past couple of months. Granted, she had called maybe three times in two months, and I had actually been working when she called, but I was so busy with Christian after work that I had always managed to forget to call back until an ungodly hour when she would have already been asleep. I mentally cursed the time difference between us and looked at the clock in the car. It was 5:05pm, which meant that it was five after 8pm where she was. She would be going to bed soon. My mom had always been an early bird - early to bed, early to rise. I laughed inwardly at the reminder.

"I've been really busy." I said, adding apologetically, "I'm so sorry I haven't called you back. How are you?"

"I've been great!" she replied, giggling. I knew by the giggle that something was going on. "Well, more than great, actually. I met someone!"

My mother, the hopeless romantic, had already been married three times. My father had been her first husband, but he had died of cancer when I was two. She avoided speaking about him because she said his battle had been hard on her, and it still hurt for her to think about how he died, and that I never really knew him. I still had faint, fuzzy memories of him when I would dream; brown hair, thin face, warm smile, and blue eyes like mine. I could never remember his voice, though; something that bothered me more than it probably should have. Her second husband had failed to realize that a wife with a child meant a full-time family, and after about four months with us, he decided to leave one night for milk and eggs. It took Mom about five months to realize that he was really never coming back. I was five when she had met Ray, husband number three, and the only one that I had reason to remember a name for. He had been a kind man to my mother, and a caring father to me. He was always patient with me, and he would take the time to sit back and listen to whatever I had to say. My mother, unfortunately, felt lacking when she was with him, and I would hear them argue at night while my mother protested that her needs weren't being met. I was too little to understand what she meant; hell, I still didn't exactly understand as an adult, but I remember crying one day when I was eight as my mother packed all of our belongings into her car, telling me to say goodbye. Tears were rolling down Ray's face when I ran up to him and threw my arms around his neck.

"You be good for your mother, kiddo." he said quietly, "And you can call me whenever you want."

We moved from Arizona to Oregon, hot to cold, and our lives seemed to settle. Boyfriends came and went in and out of our lives; each one, my mother was convinced, would be the one for her, and we could finally be a complete family. But as I grew older, they all seemed to become worse and worse. I became gangly and awkward, and they noticed in a heartbeat. Each one would pick on me for being scrawny, looking like a shrunken beanpole, not having any feminine curves, and my mother would simply pat their chests as she would tell them to be nice, fawning over them and redirecting their attention to her. Even though I loved my mother, I resented her for two things - caring more about her boyfriends than she had about me, and for leaving Ray. It was easy to bury this resentment when we were distanced, and even when we were talking, but the all too familiar giggle in her voice would always make the feelings resurface, and I would find myself putting up walls. She would tell me about the new guy, and then she would shut me out of her life so she could focus on Mr. Right Number-I-Lost-Count.

"Who is he?" I asked, feigning curiosity like the good girl my mother had called to confide in.

"His name is Robert; well, he goes by Bob." she began, gushing. "He's a doctor! I met him when I twisted my ankle a month ago going jogging. He's amazing, Annie!"

I rolled my eyes as I thought briefly of the new guy's profession before hiding a laugh at how my mom had met him. Jogging? Her? She was accident prone; jogging had been a bad pick for her. I focused on the task at hand, switching lanes as I continued to pretend to be interested.

"That's great, Mom." I replied, trying to sound overjoyed. "I'm so happy for you."

"Well, Annie, here's the thing." she said, building up to something. Oh no. "We are completely in love - in fact, so much in love that, well...Bob proposed!"

Oh shit.

"Congratulations, Mom!" I said, positive that the disappointment was seeping in my tone. I was having a hard time hiding it. I started thinking good things. Puppies. Kittens. Sunset at the park. Christian taking pictures. Christian, on one knee…

Stop. I wasn't going there right now. I wouldn't be my mom - I would take my time before I would even start thinking about marriage. I needed to keep a level head, especially right now.

"Thank you, sweetie!" she replied, bubbling with excitement. "So, the wedding is in a few weeks, and we are planning something right here in Georgia. Aaaand, I want you to be here, and I want you to be my maid of honor."

"What?!" I exclaimed, nearly driving off onto the shoulder. "You're getting married when?! And you want me to do what?!"

"Honey, calm down!" my mother laughed, "I know it's fast, and it's a lot, and it's so exciting! Oh my gosh, I'm so thrilled! Please, Annie, come down to Georgia and share this with me - with us." Her use of the word us made me shiver involuntarily, and not in a good way. "This is it; he's the one - for real, this time. I've never been so sure of anything before in my life. Please. Bob will pay for the airfare and you can stay at the hotel where we are having the wedding, on him."

I didn't want to. I didn't want to leave Washington and Christian, I didn't want to see my mother with yet another new man, and I didn't want to see her getting remarried. I had been hopeful that she had stopped aspiring to find a new husband when it had been so long since her last relationship, but apparently finding herself was put in the backseat the day she twisted her ankle and met Dr. Bob. But she was my mother and, despite everything negative that we had been through, I still loved her. So I sighed.

"Okay, Mom." I conceded, smiling weakly as I tried to convince myself that she had genuinely met someone good for a change. "I'll come to Georgia."

"Oh, thank you honey!" she squealed, making my ear hurt. "I promise you, you're going to love him! And I won't make you wear a ridiculous looking dress, I swear."

I laughed quietly and shook my head, pulling up along my own apartment building as I arrived home. "Okay, Mom." I said calmly, turning off the engine and taking off my seatbelt. I heard another beep and picked up my phone. Christian's name was flashing on the screen. This could be important. "Mom, I've got another call - I'll talk to you again soon."

"Okay, honey - hurry up and call me back!" she insisted. "We need to talk travel dates and arrangements!"

"I will." I said hurriedly as I hit the switch call button. "Christian." I said, sighing.

"Everything okay?" he asked. He sounded worried, but preoccupied as well.

"Yeah, I was just talking to my mom." I said, trying to reassure him quickly so I could find out what happened with work.

"Is she okay?" he asked, trying to show his concern for me.

"Oh, yeah, she's great - she's getting remarried." I said, and I knew my lack of excitement had to be confusing for him. He didn't seem to notice very much, though. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

"Can I come over?" he asked. "I need to see you."

We had just seen each other, but the tone in his voice told me that something bad had happened, and I felt a need to see him, too. "Yes." I said quietly, my heart aching at the neutrality in his tone.

"I'll be there in five minutes." he said, hanging up before I could tell him I loved him.

I sat on the hood of my car, waiting impatiently for Christian to pull up. I jumped when I saw his car, and practically ran into his car when he tried to park. He got out of his car and ran a hand through his hair, visibly upset. I wrapped my arms around him, wanting to comfort him, and he became rigid in my arms.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, feeling pained by his reaction to my comforting gesture.

He was quiet for a moment. His face reflected anger and frustration, and eventually he sighed. "I was fired." he said quietly.

I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes, hoping that the move would comfort him, but he stood like a statue, unmoved. "I'm so sorry…" I said quietly. "Why?"

He shook his head. "I can't tell you." he said simply, avoiding my eyes.

I frowned at his avoidance. "It's the NDA, isn't it?" I asked, "You're never allowed to tell me what you did at your job, are you?"

He shook his head, and I sighed. At least we didn't have a future of secrets now; after all, they had fired him, and he could always find a new job taking pictures elsewhere. I stopped and heard his words echo in my head. I was fired… Freelancing for the paper wasn't enough for the bills. He had just lost his bread and butter. What was he going to do now?

"What are you going to do now?" I asked, releasing him from my embrace.

He seemed to relax a little more, confirming that he wasn't comfortable with being touched right now. He sighed, running his hand through his hair again. "I guess I'm back to looking for work." he said quietly. "Though I don't know if I can compete in the photography field anymore. My reference for the agency has been revoked now, so I doubt I can become a investigative photographer for another office."

I sighed at his lack of confidence. There had to be something. "What about being a private photographer?" I asked, "You could do family photo shoots, engagement photos...wedding photos…" The wheels began to turn in my mind.

"I would need a portfolio for that type of work." he replied uncertainly. "I don't have any photos to use to build that kind of portfolio."

"I might be able to solve that…" I said quietly. "If I told you I can get you a job taking wedding photos, all expenses paid, would you be willing to leave Washington for a small vacation?"

Christian looked at me questioningly. "You know of a place already?" he asked, obviously not catching on to where the conversation was leading.

"I sure do." I replied confidently, unlocking my phone. I found the number in my call log and hit the call back button. It only took two rings for me to get an answer. "Ana!" my mother answered, sounding overjoyed. "Ready to talk details?"

"In a minute," I replied, "But first, I have a question - do you have a wedding photographer lined up yet?"

A/N: So it looks like Ana and Christian are going to Georgia! Hope everyone caught the Fifty Shades references I scattered in this chapter. I got a good giggle from them myself. For anyone who is curious about the camera that Christian uses, it's a Pentax K1000 35mm SLR. I wanted to use something with some age on it, as he seems to be fairly sentimental anyway, and as a photographer, there is a level of passion in his work. What does everyone think of his mysterious second job? Is it strange that he was suddenly fired? What are your thoughts? I'll be tying up some loose ends very soon, so stay tuned! I'm trying to write in between working increased hours at my two jobs, as well as working on the last of my college work, and now the gym on top of everything else! My mind works so well when my body gets a good workout! :-D Keep in touch, y'all!

WordsInStitches