AN: So this is now a four part story instead of three, which I thought might happen. Lots of fluff here, but also a fair bit of angst.
Rose pushed through the ticket barrier, then jerked to a halt when her suitcase caught on the doors. She tugged again, but it didn't budge. The station employee working was busy with the wider gate—where she should have gone—so she swore under her breath and yanked harder. The suitcase finally came free, and the sudden lack of a counter weight nearly sent her sprawling to the ground.
Cheeks flushed and very aware of the irritated travellers behind her, she walked quickly out of the station, dragging the heavy bag behind her. Outside, the grey January sky promised rain, and she pulled her coat more tightly around her body.
"Can I help you with your luggage, Miss?"
Rose looked over her shoulder, then did a double take when she saw James leaning against the building. "James! What are you doing here?"
He grinned, and Rose was surprised to realise she'd missed his wide, toothy smile. "Martha mentioned you were getting back today, and since I happen to know your idea of packing light is laughable, I thought I'd offer a hand."
She raised an eyebrow. "Laughable? You know this, do you?"
James blushed and pulled on his ear. It was a nervous habit Rose had picked up on, and she wondered absently if it owed its slightly wonky shape to excessive tugging. "Welllll… Martha teased you about it after Easter hols last year," he mumbled.
"And you remembered that?"
"Of course I remembered. My mind is a like a steel trap."
"Maybe one that's been left out in the rain," Rose muttered, but she let him take the handle and started walking home.
"I heard that," he said from behind her, "but to prove how magnanimous I am, I'm going to ignore the slight against my intelligence."
Rose looked back at him. "I've heard about your 'vastly superior intelligence.'"
He sniffed. "Well, I don't like to brag."
"That's not how I remember it." His forehead creased in a frown, and she said, "On the quad last year with the Maths department? They were working on a problem and you solved it at a glance. When they looked at you in awe and said they'd been working on it two years, you just said, 'I'm very good.'"
"It's not my fault the maths professors here are idiots. That's why I'm studying physics."
They'd reached the foot of the long hill they'd have to climb to reach Rose's flat, and he grunted after a few steps. "What did you put in here, Rose? Rocks?"
She rolled her eyes. "If it's too heavy for your skinny arms to pull up the hill, I can take it the rest of the way. After all, I managed to get it all the way to Waterloo by myself this morning—navigating the Tube, thank you very much."
He sidestepped her attempt to take the bag. "Oi! Now you're insulting the strength in my manly, hairy arms, Rose Tyler? I didn't say I couldn't manage—I just pointed out your packing skills are… unique."
Rose laughed. "All right. I wouldn't want to insult your manly, hairy arms."
A raindrop splashed on her jacket, leaving a dark spot on the sleeve. "We'd better hop to," James said, and they both picked up the pace.
"I read all of Prisoner of Azkaban over hols," Rose said. "Are you ready for Saturday?"
James' face broke into that same wide, excited grin she'd noticed before, and Rose's stomach flipped this time. "Oh yes! Actually, I found something I wanted to show you. Would you be up for an adventure, instead of meeting at Coffeevilla?"
"An adventure related to the book?"
"Yep!"
He popped the p and bounced a little, and Rose couldn't help but laugh yet again. "Yeah, all right."
"Brilliant!" he proclaimed. "Meet me at the bus station at 9:00 Saturday morning. And now, here we are—home sweet home, and just in time."
The rain was coming a bit more steadily as Rose unlocked the front door and let James set the bag down in the entryway. "Thank you, James," she said. "I'm looking forward to Saturday."
DWDWDWDWDW
James was soaked through by the time he reached his own flat. He took a quick shower to warm up, then sat down with Goblet of Fire, sparing a quick glance at his phone before flipping it open.
There was one new message, and he tapped on the icon, fairly certain who it was from. Texting with Lily had become a regular part of his day in a way he'd never anticipated when he signed up to be an Unboyfriend. I'm back at uni. The train ride was completely uneventful, unlike the "trips" we take.
He laughed, then quickly tapped out an apology. Sorry. I got caught in the rain and hd to dry off before I could reply.
No worries. I barely missed a soaking myself.
Glad one of us did, he told her. Then, with an eye on her previous comment, he said, Now, what's this you're implying about our adventures?
You have to admit we seem to land in trouble wherever we go.
James chuckled. Of course there was trouble an adventure without trouble was just boring. Trouble's just the bits in between! he protested, then waited eagerly for her reply.
Lily did not disappoint. Right, so… Nearly getting friend to a crisp while watching the end of the world.
That had been their very first trip after their late night conversation. A few days later, Lily had insisted he fill in the blanks he'd left behind when they'd been on New Earth, so he'd taken her to Platform One and… well…
Coincidence.
And saving the Earth during the Fourth Great and Bountiful Human Empire?
Should we have left them as slaves to the Mighty Jagrafess? he asked, choosing to be purposely obtuse.
What about stopping that—what did you call her, Slitheen?—from blowing up Cardiff?
Not even Cardiff deserves to be reduced to rubble by an alien keen on vengeance.
Still, you have to admit our made up travels seem more like a sci-fi series than a travelogue.
James' mind spun with dozens of ideas of where to take Lily next, before settling on one. Then I think it's time we used our frankly magnificent time ship to visit something fun, just for us. What would you say to visiting Elvis?
All right then, where are we?
When he stopped to think about it, James was always amazed by how game Lily was. The only other person he knew who was as up for anything was Rose… For a moment, the idea of traveling the universe with Rose Tyler distracted him, and he let himself daydream about what it would be like to see the wonder in her eyes as he showed her alien planets.
John?
Sorry, my mind wandered. Where were we?
That's what I was asking you.
Oh, right. Ed Sullivan TV studios, 1956. Elvis did Hound Dog on one of the shows. There were loads of complaints. Bit of luck, we'll just catch it.
1956 seems a bit early to see Elvis. I thought we'd be going for the Vegas era, you know, the white flares and the grr, chest hair.
You've got to be kidding. If you want to see Elvis, you see him when they called him the Pelvis and he still had chest hair. So. That's where we are. You going my way, doll?
Is there any other way to go, Daddy-o?
Her reply tickled him. Oh, you speak the lingo!
Oh well, me, mum, Cliff Richards movies every Bank Holiday Monday.
Rose couldn't resist teasing John a bit. Now, are you sure we're in New York? Your driving…
Just because you insisted on that story where I made you miss a whole year. Rose could almost see him pouting. I can only imagine how hard your mum would slap if that ever happened.
She laughed. Inserting those moments into he story was how she took control over their destination, but she couldn't tell if he'd figured that out or not. It's just more interesting when you're not always right.
Fine, he said. You open the doors and you'll see, Lily. New York City. The Big Apple.
Hmmmm…. Would that be a New York with red double decker busses and post boxes?
Well, a sort of Londony New York, mind. Rose giggled at the very John-like way he put that. So if we're not in New York, are we in 1956?
Close, but… 1953.
Oh, the coronation!
It was nearly an hour later when Lily and John managed to once again save the day, this time stopping an energy creature called The Wire from harnessing the brain waves of innocent Londoners to take physical form again. Rose groaned when she spotted the time. I've got to go, she said. I still haven't done the reading for my classes tomorrow.
Oh. Yeah. I should get to that.
Hey, John… Rose bit her lip. She'd typed the message out so many times since Christmas, but she'd never been able to hit send.
Hmmm?
Nothing. I'll talk to you tomorrow.
Night, Lily.
Rose rolled over and pressed her face into the cushion to stifle her scream. "I think I'm falling in love with you," she said. "How hard is it? Why can't I tell him?"
But she knew why. The whole idea of the Unboyfriend was no commitment. John hadn't signed up to find a girlfriend. And even though there were times she thought he might be flirting, he'd shown no signs of wanting to turn their friendship into something more. "Better to be friends than to push him away altogether."
DWDWDWDWDWDW
The first week back in classes drug on, as usual. The only thing that kept James from gong spare was the promise of his weekend with Rose. Early Saturday morning, he detoured by Coffeevilla for tea to go on his way to the bus station. Rose was endearingly grumpy before she'd had her first cuppa.
When she arrived at the station, she accepted the cup and took a long drink before saying a word. "Ta," she said then. "I didn't have time to make any before leaving home. And why are we up so early on Saturday?"
"It'll take almost an hour to get where we're going. You can," he cleared his throat, "you can nap on the bus if you want."
Rose yawned. "I just might."
The bus rolled up, and James climbed on first, giving the driver the fare for both of them. "You didn't have to pay," Rose protested.
"My idea, my treat," James insisted. He slid into a seat in the middle of the bus and forced himself not to react when Rose sat down next to him. It was just the close nature of bus seats that made her shoulder bump his and her thigh brush against his if she moved. It didn't mean anything. Judging from the rapid rhythm it set, his heart didn't care, but luckily, he managed to control other reactions to her proximity.
They were still in the city when Rose started yawning again. "M'sorry," she said sleepily. "I stayed up till almost 4:00 studying."
"We've got another half hour on the bus, if you'd like to sleep." She shook her head, then yawned so big her jaw cracked. James laughed and took the paper cup from her hands. "Go to sleep, Rose," he said, hoping she heard the affection he couldn't keep out of his voice. "I'll wake you up when we get there."
Within moments, she'd nodded off. James watched her for a while, enjoying the chance to admire her without her noticing. He sighed; pretending not to be in love with her had proven harder than he'd expected, especially as he'd gotten to know her better. Still, it was worth it if it gave him moments like this.
Anxious for something to keep his mind off the woman next to him, James carefully slid Roses's not quite empty cup into his own empty one and took his phone out of his pocket. "Bugger," he muttered when he realised the sound was still on. He was always careful to silence it when he spent time with Rose; the idea of reading a text from Lily while he was with Rose just didn't seem right. Lily had yet to text during their Saturday Harry Potter talks, but he wasn't taking any chances.
Rose made a soft sound in her sleep, and James looked over just in time to see her shift and rest her head on his shoulder. He froze. What was he supposed to do? She needed the rest, but would she be upset if she woke up and realised she was leaning on him?
He remembered how tired she was, and how grumpy she could be in the morning, and decided to risk it. His phone was slid back into his pocket—this was the closest he'd ever been to Rose Tyler, and he wouldn't be able to think about anything else until the bus stopped.
They reached their stop all too soon for James' taste. After hitting the request button, he tapped Rose lightly on the knee. "Wakey wakey," he said quietly. She shifted and nuzzled her noses against his shoulder. James sucked in a breath as longing shot through him, but he forced the yearning aside, and tapped her again. "Come on, Rose, time to wake up."
Her eyelashes fluttered open, and her cheeks turned pink when she realised what she was reclining against. "Sorry," she muttered, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face.
"It's fine, Rose. You needed to sleep." He saw their stop just ahead and nudged her to stand up. James tossed their cups in the bin while they waited for the back doors to open. "Now, are you ready for an adventure?"
They jumped out of the bus, and the cool air felt good on Rose's heated cheeks. She'd fallen asleep on James' shoulder. He didn't seem to be ready to pounce on that moment of weakness, so she took a deep breath and looked around. "Where are we going?"
James spun around and walked backwards for a few steps. "On a little path through those trees."
Rose looked where he was pointing. If she squinted, she could see a break in the trees where there might be a path. "You're sure?"
He rolled his eyes and took her hand. "Rose Tyler, have I given you any reason to doubt me? Come on!"
His palm was warm next to hers, and Rose was surprised to find she enjoyed the feeling of simply holding his hand. She swallowed. Falling asleep on hm was one thing, but this was…
"So, what was your favourite part of the book?" she asked, trying to pull her mind back to Harry Potter where it belonged, and not on how comfortable she was becoming with James Noble.
He swung their hands between them. "Oooh, that's a tough question! I like the Knight Bus—imagine travelling in something like that."
Rose shuddered. "No ta, that scene in the movie gave me nightmares. I can't imagine being on a bus that drove through London like that."
The cold light of the winter sun made James appear paler than usual, and Rose spotted several freckles dusting the sweep of his nose and his left cheek. Why've I never noticed those before?
He was still talking, and Rose forced herself to listen to the words and not his voice. "But being able to just hail it from wherever you were, simply by sticking out your wand! And it seemed to get where it was going awfully fast too."
"Yeah, I'd rather take more time and be guaranteed to get there in one piece."
"All right then, what's your favourite magical form of conveyance?"
Rose thought briefly of the ship she and John used in their travels—the blue box they'd named the TARDIS, for Time And Relative Dimension In Space. Then she pushed the thought aside and thought about Harry Potter.
"I get why they're illegal, but I always wanted to own a magic carpet."
"Maybe they aren't illegal in the Wizarding Middle East," James suggested.
They reached the trees, but the path seemed to disappear. "James…"
"Trust me," he insisted, holding branches up so she could duck under them. He followed, and then dropped the curtain of branches.
Rose looked around her; they were completely enclosed in the woods. The trees were barren right now, but she could imagine would it be like in summer, with the leafy branches overhead blocking out all but the most determined rays of the sun and making you feel like you were in a fairy kingdom.
"Where are we?"
"You'll see," he said enigmatically. "So, what do you think? Are flying carpets legal in other countries?"
Rose tilted her head and considered. "I suppose they might be. I mean, what's really the difference between enchanting a broomstick to fly and a carpet? Isn't there just as much of a chance of a magic broom falling into Muggle hands as there is a magic carpet?"
"An excellent point! Some of the Wizarding laws I understand—like the law against raising dragons. The danger of that was perfectly obvious, really."
Rose giggled. "Poor Hagrid. He just can't understand why no one else loves the dangerous beasties, can he? What was he thinking, introducing a bunch of third years to a hippogriff?"
"Harry handled Buckbeak just fine," James pointed out.
"Well yeah, but he's the hero, innit he?" Rose said. "I mean, sometimes he has to be good at things because him being able to do them is important to the plot, and watching him learn would take too long."
A step later, she became aware that James wasn't moving. She turned around and laughed at the expression of utter betrayal on his face. "Oh, come on!" she said. "Sometimes you have to analyse it as a piece of literature, and not just a story. It's a writing construct that Rowling depends on at times, but she uses it well enough that it doesn't become obnoxious."
James sighed deeply. "As long as you don't start explaining characters' behaviours based on the role they played in the text. 'Oh, well you see, Neville had to be the one to stop them in the first book, because it foreshadows who he becomes in Deathly Hallows when he stands up to the Carrows."
"Well…"
James pouted, and Rose pointedly ignored how luscious his plump bottom lip looked. "I don't believe this! Rose, honestly?"
"That's not a literary construct though!" she protested. "That's just… that's character development. Really, really good character development."
James squinted at her. "Do you have a literary crush on Neville Longbottom?"
"No," Rose said, a trifle too quickly.
"I think you do!" he crowed. "I think…"
Whatever he was going to say was forgotten when the trees opened up to a small clearing where a shack stood in the shade of a large willow tree. Rose gasped, and James bounced in delight. "I know! How much more perfect could it be?"
"It's just like I pictured it," Rose breathed. "I mean, I know the Shrieking Shack and Whomping Willow weren't actually side by side, but… these look so much like what I imagined."
She dropped James' hand and walked over to the willow tree and placed her hand on the trunk. The rough bark beneath her fingers sent a shiver up her spine. "You can almost imagine it's moving, can't you?"
"There's more!" James said, reaching for her hand again and dragging her around to the other side of the shack. "Look!"
Rose looked out over the lake, and for a moment she thought she could see the castle on the other side. "Harry would have been standing just over there when he cast his first patronus," she said, pointing slightly to the left.
"I'm surprised you aren't commenting on how a thirteen year old being able to successfully conjure a corporeal patronus is unbelievable."
Rose rolled her eyes. "It is a bit, yeah, but Defence Against the Dark Arts was always his strength. He was actually naturally talented in that."
"He was naturally talented at flying too," James pointed out.
A wind whipped up off the lake and Rose started shivering before she could counter that argument. James frowned. "You're getting cold; we should go back."
"When did you find this place?" Rose asked when they were back in the woods.
"A few weeks ago."
"You didn't go home for Christmas?"
James' fingers tightened around hers for mere seconds, but it was enough to tip her off. She watched his face carefully as he spoke, catching the way the muscle in his jaw twitched.
"I visited my cousin for a week, but my aunt and I don't really get along. Donna and Gramps are great, but… it's best for everyone if Aunt Sylvia and I have limited contact."
They walked in silence for a moment, then he looked over at her. "It's okay, you can ask."
"What about your parents?"
This time, his hand clenched so tightly it almost hurt. She returned the pressure and was gratified to see him relax slightly. "They died ten years ago in a car accident," he said quietly. "I went to live with Uncle Geoffrey and Aunt Sylvia, but my aunt… she blamed me."
"Why?"
"Because they were on their way to pick me up from school for the summer when it happened."
Rose's jaw dropped. "But that's completely unfair."
James laughed, but the sound was harsh and bitter, instead of the warm, joyful laugh she associated with him. "You think? Gramps told me later that she and my mum had a huge row the last time they were together, and Aunt Sylvia couldn't handle knowing she'd never be able to take back what she said."
"James, I am so sorry." He kept walked, and she tugged on his hand, forcing him to face her. "Hey, listen to me," she said softly. "That's an awful feeling—my mum fought with my dad before he died and sometimes I can tell it still hurts. But that does not make it okay for her to treat you like this."
"I still miss them," he whispered, and Rose's heart ached at the loneliness in his voice.
"Of course you do. I know what that's like. I've lived my whole life missing my dad, even though I don't even remember him."
James swallowed hard, and Rose watched his happy-go-lucky mask fall back into place. He held her gaze for another beat, then spun on his heels and yanked her along down the path.
Rose listened to him ramble about the trees and rocks and anything impersonal. There was something familiar in his behaviour, and she watched his mannerisms for a moment, her heart sinking when she placed them. This hyper-manic James Noble was the one she'd met over a year and a half ago, the one she'd rejected fifty times. The one she'd been so certain wasn't interested in her at all.
What if that casual, unaffected attitude was only a defence so she couldn't see how much he did care? What if he'd actually been in love with her, and she'd refused to see it?
DWDWDWDWDW
Rose sat down across from Martha and banged her head on the table. "All right, what's wrong?"
"I think I'm falling for James," Rose mumbled against the tabletop.
"Sit up and say that again?"
Rose groaned, but straightened up. "I think I'm falling for James."
Martha grinned. "Why are you acting like this is the end of the world? You know he's crazy about you."
"One," Rose said, ticking the problems off with her fingers, "I'm not sure he is anymore. It's been three months since he's shown any sign of interest. And two…" She hesitated; this was the moment of truth. "I've kinda… I met someone through an online dating service and we've been talking for three months," she said in a rush.
Martha's eyes narrowed. "You have a virtual boyfriend?"
Rose examined her nails. "Maybe?"
"What do you mean, maybe?"
"Well… In my initial profile, I said I was only looking for friendship. But now…"
"You're falling for—what's his name?"
"John Smith."
"You're falling for John too."
Rose nodded.
"And I suppose there's no point in telling you how ridiculous your fears regarding James are. He is still so head over heels for you, it isn't even funny."
"Really? Because in all the hours we've spent together since November, he's not once done anything to indicate interest. He doesn't even check me out."
Martha snorted. "Not while you could see, at least. Trust me, Rose—the way he looks at you when he knows you can't see is sickening. He is so far gone."
"Then why doesn't he say anything?"
"I don't know, but it might have something to do with the fifty times you rejected him." Rose stared at the table, and Martha sighed. "He's not going to make a move without an invitation from you, Rose."
"What about John though?"
"You don't even know him, not really!"
"That's not true. We're… we've talked a lot. You remember me telling you about that horrible party I went to over Christmas?" Martha nodded. "Well, I texted him when I got home, an' he was… he was brilliant."
"Then ask if you can meet and see if he's the same bloke you think he is. But don't turn James down based on someone you only know virtually. I'm thinking of a phrase about a bird in the hand and two in the bush."
DWDWDWDWDWDW
James was the last to arrive at the pub on Friday night. He noted with some amusement that an already tipsy Martha seemed to be pestering Rose about something. He noticed with less amusement that Rose didn't seem happy with the teasing, while Jack and Mickey were content to be spectators.
He nodded to his friends on the way to the bar and returned a few minutes later with the next round. Martha took hers and downed half of it in one go. "Slow down, babe," Mickey said. "Let the rest of us catch up, yeah?"
Martha shook her head. "'S my last chance to really cut loose," she said, her words already slurred. "After tonight, I have to sh-study extra hard if m'gonna win that position next year."
James and Rose looked at each other over the rim of their glasses, eyes brimming with amusement. Everyone but Martha knew she had an absolute lock on the assistantship she wanted. She was far and away the best pre-med student at the university, and unless she completely bombed the rest of the term, the job was hers.
But then, it was hers because she took her work seriously and studied hard, so deciding in January that she would focus on studying was… very Martha.
Jack started telling an exaggerated story about the couple he'd found himself in bed with the previous weekend—at least, James thought it was exaggerated. It was hard to tell with Jack sometimes.
The loud scrape of chair legs over a wooden floor pulled his attention back to the other side of the table. Rose stood up, her cheeks slightly flushed. "My turn to buy the next round, I think."
James frowned at her disappearing form. The forced brightness in her voice was transparently fake. "What was that about?"
Martha smirked and leaned toward him with a totally earnest expression on her face. "I've been telling her to ask her internet boyfriend out on a real date so she can realise she's actually in love with you."
The spun around him, even though the pint in his hand was his first. James set the glass down with a hard thud. "Her… what?"
Martha nodded. "Rose used a dating site! Only she says they're just friends, but she wants more. I told her she should want more with you instead."
James spotted Rose on her way back. This was the true test, then. Could he really be Rose's friend, even if she wanted to be with someone else? His crushed heart screamed no, but then he saw the lines of tension around her mouth and eyes, and realised this must be what she was afraid of—that he'd bolt once he learned she was in love with someone else.
He took a deep breath and forced a smile to his face just as Rose returned. "So, what'd I miss?" she asked as she passed the glasses around.
"Martha here just told James all about your internet boyfriend," Jack said.
"Martha, you didn't." Rose swung a stricken gaze to James. "I am so sorry."
He shrugged. "What for?" he asked. "I have nothing against online dating."
"No, but…" Rose stared at him for a long moment, her brow furrowed in confusion. James felt a little humiliated that she'd obviously thought this would break him, but he hid his discomfort behind an easy smile.
"See Rose!" Martha said. "Now you can tell John you want to meet."
"You haven't met yet?" James said, feeling the faintest glimmer of hope. If this John didn't turn out to be what she'd expected…
Martha swung an arm over Rose's shoulder. "Nope! So I told her she needed to meet John face to face before she—"
Rose slapped a hand over her flat mate's mouth. "If I text John and ask if he wants to meet, will you quit talking about this?" Martha nodded, and rose tug her phone out of her bag. "Here, I'm doing it. 'John, I think we should meet.' Good enough?"
Martha rolled her eyes. "Tell him you like him," she whined. "Make it juicy."
James was grateful to see the idea of "juicy" appealed as much to Rose as it did him. "I'm not that drunk," she said flatly, and pushed Martha away.
"At least make it clear you mean on a date."
Rose squirmed in her seat and glanced up at James again. The lines around her mouth had deepened, and his already broken heart clenched at how unhappy she looked. "Martha, let it go," he said.
But Martha was quicker than anyone had expected, given how drunk she was. She plucked the phone from Rose's fingers and tapped out a message before anyone could react. "There! Now he'll know what you mean."
She handed the phone back to Rose, who groaned when she read the message. "'This just friends bit isn't working for me anymore.' You misspelled friends," she told Martha.
Martha waved a hand through the air dismissively. "He'll know what I mean—no, what you mean!" she said and laughed. "Now we just have to see what he says."
There was an awkward silence around the table as they all waited for Rose's phone to chime. After a few minutes, Rose shook her head and downed what was left of her beer. "I'm not going to think about it," she said. "Micks, tell me what's going on with football."
James managed to stay another half hour, but the increasingly bereft looks he saw Rose flick to her silence phone finally became too much for him. "Right, you lot, it's been a long week and I'm shattered. I think I'll just go home and sleep."
He nodded to the round of good nights, then left the pub, feeling distressingly sober for how devastated he was. Whoever this John bloke was, it didn't matter if he and Rose hadn't met. She was clearly completely gone.
A storm of emotion roiled inside him—dejection, anger, sorrow, and more he couldn't even identify. For the moment, there was so much, he couldn't focus on any of them, and he was blissfully blank.
When he got home, he pulled his keys, change, and phone from his pocket and tossed them all on his dresser. The phone landed face up, and he caught a flash of the notifications screen before it went to sleep again.
He was in no mood to text anyone, but muscle memory had him waking the phone up before he'd realised what he'd done. Two messages from Lily, his brain registered before the words hit him, and he completely shut off, unable to process what he was seeing.
The phone went to sleep again, and he impatiently woke it up and went to his messages, staring at the last two from Lily.
John, I think we should meet.
This just freinds bit isn't working for me anymore.