Author's Note:Just started school holidays. HOORAY! Spring has sprung in Sydney. Always feels like rebirth, starting fresh, washing away the previous twelve months.

Thanks for all the amazing reviews. I really love that you guys love this story. Please keep the reviews coming! They really give me the push I need to keep this going, knowing that there are reviewers wanting to share their thoughts. Your thoughts really help me, too!

- Chrissy

~ My Favourite Game ~

x~X~x

Chapter Thirteen: The Day For Truths

The college campus lay bathed in the soft, early-morning light as the sun began its ascent, casting a warm, golden hue on the scattered figures that were starting to stir. It was a Sunday, a day of respite for many, but for some, it was the day to recuperate from the wild college party dreams that had kept them up into the late hours of the night. As a result, the campus was quieter than usual, with only a handful of early risers dotting the landscape.

Iwas thankful for the lack of bodies circling the space around me. Had there been many more eyes watching, I was certain I would have fled the scene in an unstoppable panic, and with me, my confession to my brother that needed to happen.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it a hint of impending autumn. The air was cool but crisp, causing a shiver to run down the spines of those who ventured out. Yet, there was a certain serenity in the atmosphere, and a faint mist hung in the air, giving an ethereal quality to the place I now called home. The dew-kissed grass sparkled like diamonds, and the promise of cooler weather loomed on the horizon.

Had I not been freaking out to my very core; I probably would have appreciated the beauty around me.

Instead, I sat on a weathered wooden bench just down from the college coffee shop, my nervous energy palpable. Without realising it, my leg bounced incessantly, not due to the chill in the air, but rather the anxious thoughts swirling within me. When I had messaged my brother the night before, his reply had been swift. He mentioned his training commitments but offered to swing by in the morning if it was urgent. As I had hastily agreed to the meet up despite the hour, I knew my brother well enough to know that Clay would have caught on straight away that our early morning rendezvous meant something significant.

As the minutes passed, my gaze flitted between my phone and the college coffee shop's entrance, my anticipation growing with every passing second. I wondered how Clay would react when he saw me here so early on a Sunday, amid the misty, pre-dawn wonder. I wondered what his reaction would be, what his advice would be. I wondered if he'd be angry, or worried, or if he would even care at all.

No, I didn't have to wonder about that. Clay always cared.

As if sensing my thoughts of him, the familiar silver Jeep Wrangler that belonged to my brother rolled into the far-right corner of the student car park. The morning sunlight bounced off its polished surface, creating a dazzling spectacle that caught my eye. My stomach sank and I felt a sudden rush of anxiety that made my palms begin to sweat. I rose to my feet and forced myself to lock my gaze onto the figure emerging from the driver's side of the vehicle.

Clad in grey sweats and a matching hoodie that draped over his tall, muscular frame, Clay jumped down from the Jeep. Even in his Sunday lazy attire, he exuded a magnetic presence that turned heads. Though there were few people around in the early morning quiet, those who were going for a jog or seeking their morning caffeine fix couldn't help but pause when Clay strode across the parking lot in my direction.

He greeted the familiar faces with his trademark kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a friendly wave, as was his custom. But his demeanour shifted when he locked eyes with me. There was a hint of concern in the nod he gave me, a subtle acknowledgment of the seriousness that had brought us together at this early hour. Stopping in front of me, he accepted the smoothie I offered, a blend of banana, oat, and honey, his usual choice. A sigh escaped him as he took the drink from my hands, his expression resigned. Together, we made our way back to the bench I had previously occupied, sitting side by side in silence.

We sipped our smoothies, the minutes stretching out in contemplative quiet. I knew I had to break the silence, to voice the reason I had summoned my brother here on this crisp Sunday morning. But it was so damn hard to do it. For years I had fought being in this position, fought being the one to make any part of my brother's life more complicated than it already was. But when my brother shifted next to me an cleared his throat, I knew my time was up. With a deep breath, I finally spoke, my voice betraying me and quivering with the weight of the unspoken words that hung in the air between us.

"Clay..."

Before I could utter another word, Clay cut me off with a simple, heartfelt apology. "Sorry."

My eyes widened in shock at the unexpected apology and my thoughts raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind those five letters. I had anticipated a difficult conversation, but this abrupt apology had caught me completely off guard. I searched his face for more clues, but his expression remained inscrutable. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, a weariness in his demeanour that I hadn't seen before. It left me both bewildered and intrigued, wondering what had prompted this sudden confession from my typically reserved and composed brother.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, my initial shock giving way to a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Why are you apologising?" I finally managed to utter, confusion etching across my face.

Clay shifted uncomfortably beside me, his eyes locking onto the ground as he confessed, "I was a bit of a mess at the party the other night. I know you don't want people to know we're related. I'm sorry for making it obvious we knew each other, for you having to get me into bed, for you having to babysit me. And I'm really really sorry for Rachel."

I stayed silent, not knowing how to respond. Clay continued, convinced that I was unable to find the words. He'd seen me shut down before when I was worried or scared, and he thought this was one of those moments. He blamed himself for the awkwardness between me and Lucas, thinking he'd made my life harder in some way.

But I had to stop him before he spiralled further into guilt, blaming himself for something that wasn't his fault. Besides, this wasn't why I'd called him here. I didn't want him to carry the weight of my choices.

"Brooklyn," my name came from his lips, soft and protective. "I know when Alex did what she did, she hurt you deeply. I've carried that guilt with me ever since. I know it's hard for you to let people in, and it's hard for you to believe that people will love you for you."

I didn't say a word, my mind racing with what to say next. This wasn't why I brought him here and none of this was his fault. None of it.

"I also know something else went down last year, although you won't talk about it. But Brooke, I'm just really sorry. I'm sorry for all of it. I am. And I wish-"

"Clay, it's not your fault," I interjected, my voice soft but firm.

Clay looked at me, his eyes searching mine for reassurance. He understood how different our lives were; he was the popular athlete while I sought a quieter path. He knew how deeply Alex's betrayal had hurt me and how I'd been used to get to him. But there was more to last year, something I couldn't bring myself to reveal. I hesitated, my mind racing. Clay had urged me to open up last year, to share my burdens with him. But I knew the truth would only make things worse. He'd blame himself, and who knew what he might do in retaliation?

Shaking my head, I whispered, "You're not to blame for Alex last year or for Lucas finding out about us at the party. And the reason I told Lucas... it had nothing to do with how drunk you were that night. I needed to tell him."

Clay furrowed his brows, curious and concerned. "Why did you need to tell Lucas?"

I couldn't meet his gaze, afraid of what he'd see in my eyes. He reached out, his hand enveloping mine, offering a reassuring smile. It was moments like these that made me feel safe with him.

Summoning all my courage, I took a deep breath and finally met his eyes. "I needed to tell him because he thought we were together. He saw me put you to bed and he heard us say we loved each other. I couldn't have him thinking that about us."

Clay burst into laughter then, a sound so carefree and melodic that it had always been one of my favourite sounds. He pulled his sunglasses down from the top of his head to over his eyes, leaning back on the bench and taking a sip of his drink, the amusement emanating from him. I was relieved he found it funny, but my nerves still churned within me.

"Oh, I see," he chuckled, releasing my hand. "That's fair. But you didn't have to tell him anything if you didn't want to. He wouldn't have cared. Lucas has a reputation, and when I first met him, I believed every word of it. But once you get to know him, he's not what people think he is."

I swallowed hard and whispered, "I know."

"You know?" Clay asked, turning to look in my direction. When I didn't say a word, when he saw that I couldn't say a word, his brow furrowed in realisation. He looked at my face, and his eyes widened in shock. "Oh, you know. Right. Okay then."

The awkward silence stretched between us as more people filled the campus, their voices and laughter serving as a stark contrast to the tension between Clay and me. Just when I felt like I couldn't take the silence any longer, his phone alarm broke through it. When he didn't react, I nudged him, pulling him back to reality. He glanced down and shut off the sound, taking another sip of his drink as he got to his feet.

"Clay?" My word hung in the air, dripping with anxiety.

"Oh, I uh, I have practice. Gotta go, lil' sis," he said, scrambling for his car keys.

I waited, a bundle of nerves on a bench, my heart pounding as I anticipated his reaction. He found his keys and took a few steps forward before abruptly stopping in his tracks. Turning back to me, he charged back towards me quickly and I rose to my feet as he enveloped me in a warm embrace.

"Thanks for telling me," he murmured. I felt his chin lock into my shoulder, his words right at my ear.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice trembling with concern as I wrapped my arms around him.

"I'm more than okay. You told me." He pulled out from the embrace and placed his hands on either side of my shoulders, our eyes locking onto one-another as he spoke.

"You actually told me. This is huge for you; don't think I don't know that."

"Clay-"

"You're my sister, Brooke. I know you," he reassured me. "So yeah, I'm okay. Just, you know, be careful. Make sure this is what you really want. Make sure this world, this life... make sure you want it. Make sure you're ready to be in it, with him."

I nodded and Clay kissed the top of my head, ruffling my hair slightly before making his way back to his car. As Clay's car pulled away, leaving me alone on the bench, a tumultuous storm of emotions swirled within me. I sat there, the weight of my confession settling heavily on my shoulders, and I couldn't help but replay my thoughts over and over again.

I can't believe I told my brother.

The realisation echoed in my mind like a resounding bell, its reverberations reaching every corner of my consciousness. It was a momentous step, one that had torn down the protective walls I'd so carefully constructed around myself. I had always believed that by keeping my family and my personal life separate, I could maintain some semblance of control over the chaos that had become my existence. But now, I had breached that barrier, allowing Clay to glimpse the turbulent world I had been trying to shield.

The world that made Lucas real.

My heart clenched as I acknowledged the truth of this statement. Until this moment, Lucas had been a blurry figure, an enigmatic presence that I could try and dismiss as inconsequential. I had convinced myself that I could keep him at arm's length, that our connection was nothing more than a fleeting annoyance. But by confiding in my brother, I had solidified Lucas's existence in my life. He was no longer an abstract concept; he was a person with feelings, desires, and a place in my head that I couldn't ignore.

It meant I could no longer hide behind my denial.

I had been a master of denial, convincing myself that I could compartmentalise my emotions, that I could keep my distance from Lucas and pretend that everything was normal. But now, that façade had crumbled, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. I could no longer deny the undeniable pull I felt towards Lucas, the magnetic force that had drawn us together despite my best efforts to resist it.

It meant I would have to face this, whatever it was, between Lucas and me.

The thought hung in the air like an unspoken truth, daring me to confront the complex and uncharted territory of my feelings. I couldn't continue to ignore the intensity of our connection, the way he made my heart race and my thoughts scatter. I couldn't keep pretending that what we had was inconsequential. I would have to acknowledge it, dissect it, and understand it, no matter how much it scared the hell out of me.

"Brooke?"

I jumped at the sound of my name, a pair of amused eyes looking down at me as Peyton titled her head and smiled at me. "Did I just see you having a morning latte with Clay Evans of all people?"

"Yeah, about that… wanna grab a coffee?" I stood to my feet and faced the beautiful blonde before me, a look of confusion in her eyes as she glanced down at the cup already in my hand.

"Yeah, it's a two-coffee kind of morning."

She nodded and stepped backwards to open the path for me, and without hesitation I stepped in beside her and we made our way back up the grass towards the cafeteria.

And towards the conversation I was going to have to get used to having.

x~X~x

The college cafeteria buzzed with the usual Sunday morning lazy energy as Peyton and I made our way through the breakfast line. I opted for a blueberry muffin and a strong coffee, while Peyton chose a refreshing fruit salad accompanied by a vibrant smoothie. It was no surprise that Peyton's healthy choices explained her enviable physique, with legs that seemed to go on for days. Her effortless grace and poise drew the attention of everyone around us, but she remained blissfully unaware, and that only made me appreciate her more.

We found an empty table near the window, basking in the bright morning sun that painted the campus gardens with its golden hues. Settling into our seats, Peyton couldn't resist diving into the topic that had been circling in the air since we said good morning.

"So, you and Clay, huh?" she inquired, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. She pulled a piece of melon to her mouth but her eyes never left mine.

I hesitated for a moment before responding, "Not exactly."

Peyton leaned back in her chair, crossing her long, slender legs and giving me an encouraging nod. "Hey, I won't judge. The boy is fiiiine, and honestly, you can't do much better. I also had a feeling about it when I noticed you were following him on Spotify that one time, but I think Lucas might be a little disappointed by this, if I'm honest."

"Actually, I don't think he will be."

Peyton simply shrugged, her easy-going demeanour still intact. "I think he will. Why else do you think Rachel has been the raving, jealous, territorial version of herself these days? Because Lucas is into you. Everyone can see it, but hey, if you're not into him because you have Clay, then I can understand—"

"Clay's my brother."

The words slipped from my lips almost effortlessly, surprising even me. Peyton's initial shock was quickly followed by a sharp inquisitiveness that I had expected. Eyes widening in surprise, she impaled a piece of fruit with her fork as she dumped it in her bowl before leaning across the table to lock eyes with me. "Come again?"

I took a deep breath, gathering my nerves. "Clay's my brother," I repeated, this time with more certainty.

Peyton's reaction was a mixture of disbelief and sudden curiosity. She leaned back in her chair, uncrossing her legs. "Clay Evans is your brother?"

I nodded. "Yep."

"Well, there you go," Peyton replied, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. She leaned back, eyes drifting between her breakfast and the people in the campus cafeteria before finally settling her eyes back on me. "I did not see that one coming."

"Yeah," I breathed, fiddling with the muffin in my hands but not eating it. "That's usually intentional on my part."

Peyton's brow furrowed in concern as I tried to explain, "Being Clay's sister hasn't always been the easiest thing for me. People... take advantage."

Her eyes softened, and I could see a glimmer of understanding in her gaze.

"It makes me question if people want to know me, Brooke, or if they really just want to know Clay's sister. It makes me question everything."

"What does Clay say to this?" Peyton asked gently, her voice filled with curiosity.

I hesitated for a moment, my fingers playing with the edge of my coffee cup. Peyton, sensing my reluctance, reached out and took my hand in her own, offering a comforting gesture. "He doesn't know the real extent of it," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "If he did, he would protect me. It's what he does."

Peyton nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Well, that's what big brothers do, right?"

I sighed, my thoughts drifting to Clay and the sacrifices he had made for our family. "Clay goes beyond that title. He would give up everything for his family. And he's had it so hard. But he has this God-given talent unlike anything anyone has seen in a long time, and he deserves to use that talent to make him happy. He deserves to be happy more than anyone I know."

Peyton's curiosity remained, but she seemed to understand the complexities of my relationship with Clay better now. "I see," she said, her smile growing more enigmatic. I paused, taking a sip of my coffee before turning to face her. She smiled at me, her eyes lighting up with that now-familiar curiosity I had come to expect from her. "So when you say Lucas won't be disappointed, does that mean..."

Peyton's question hung in the air, and I let out a sigh, finally deciding to be more direct. I put down my coffee and met her gaze. "It means you might have to deal with this version of Rachel for a while. At least until I figure this all out. Sorry."

She laughed then, Southern tones hitting the space between us and helping me to relax slightly. Two confessions in one morning, and I was ready to crawl back into my bed from exhaustion.

"Don't be," Peyton replied, her hand swinging in the air nonchalantly as if batting away my apology as the other hand grabbed her smoothie. "I mean, Rach may have been extra snarly at the party but honestly, nothing she said was a lie."

Silence fell between us. The atmosphere, once filled with light chatter and the gentle hum of other patrons, had suddenly shifted into a palpable tension. The soft, warm glow of the cafeteria's overhead lights cast long shadows on our faces, and I found a lump in my throat forming.

I stared at Peyton, searching for words that could bridge the gap that had formed between us. Her gaze was fixed on the tabletop, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the surface of her smoothie cup. Her eyes, usually so vibrant and expressive, were now clouded with uncertainty.

The awkwardness in the air was like a looming presence, a proverbial elephant in the room that I couldn't ignore. It had all started with a single sentence and ended with me trying desperately to know what to say. Or ask. Or think. But what could I say? Rachel had dropped a bomb on Friday night, and it hadn't even entered my mind until Peyton had mentioned it once more. My mind had been consumed with so many other things and yet here the blonde sat, offering me a window into the world of Lucas pre-me. But did she want to talk about it? Did I?

Did I even have the right to ask?

As if sensing my internal monologue, Peyton broke the silence between us and bit the bullet.

"I met Lucas when I was like, five," she began. "He lived down the street, and one day I was riding my bike and came right off it. Scraped my knee and everything. I was crying, and suddenly Lucas was there, pulling me up and holding my hand as he walked me back home. Even at five years old, he just knew how to take care of people. We became best friends. Well, with Nathan, of course."

There was nostalgia in her eyes as she recalled the innocent beginnings of her friendship with Lucas. The corners of her mouth turned upward with fondness, and her voice held a wistful tone. It was clear that she cherished those early memories dearly.

"I was really close to my Dad and Lucas was always coming over, wanting to do things with us. His father never wanted his sons to have any kind of relationship with one-another. But Karen and Deb, they were having none of it. They wanted the boys to always have each other, and so the day I met Lucas, I guess Nathan came as part of a package deal. And it stayed that way. We grew up together, we went to school together, they taught me how to play basketball and our families were close. I never got on with girls really, so it felt like I had a friend. Finally, someone who got me."

When she mentioned the evolution of her relationship with Lucas, her gaze became more intense. She seemed lost in the past, reliving the moments that had transformed their friendship into something more. There was a hint of longing in her eyes, a desire to recapture the simplicity of their connection. "And then one day I wake up, and I'm fifteen," she continued, her voice carrying a mix of nostalgia and yearning. "And Lucas doesn't look at me like a friend anymore. And I don't see him that way either. And I draw him, and I paint him, and we listen to music for hours on end on my record player, and it feels like maybe this is what is meant to happen. This is how it goes. This is what love is supposed to be like."

I couldn't help but be drawn into her story, my own feelings a mix of empathy and curiosity.

"But I don't know if that's right," Peyton mumbled, her voice quivering. "Because I don't have a Mom like other girls my age do since cancer is an asshole, and so I don't know what I'm meant to feel, but surely this is the stuff of fairy tales, right? I mean, it sounds like a damn Taylor Swift song."

"You belong with me," I announced, unsure why the song suddenly came to mind. Peyton threw me a confused glance, her bewilderment now mixed with amusement, as she tried to make sense of what I was saying.

"Sorry, ignore me," I quickly added, shaking my head as if to dispel the strange tangent my thoughts had taken.

"You know Taylor Swift songs?"

"I do. But that's a conversation for another day."

Peyton scrunches her nose, but I shake my head again, resolute that we are not discussing what she could possibly deduce to be my terrible taste in music. As I look at her, she continues.

"And so we dance around the issue for months until Nathan blurts out that he dares us to kiss, and I guess the rest is history. We're together, we're Lucas and Peyton, and we fall into this rhythm of being Lucas and Peyton. And everyone knew us as Lucas and Peyton. And we meet Felix, and Bevin, and Rachel and high school becomes this role we seemed destined to play. And he becomes basketball captain and I become a cheerleader, and everything continued on through the days and the years until senior year. And we stay that way. Lucas and Peyton… but never just Peyton."

I bite my lip, not realising I was doing it. It takes Peyton a while to continue, but the hum in the cafeteria keeps us shielded in our own little corner.

"And then basketball becomes super serious, and Lucas is so focused because he's so good. But because of this, listening to music together doesn't happen so often. And talking becomes robotic, almost mundane, like a habit. And I stand there looking at this boy who looks at me with the same loving eyes and I realise I just want to hit rewind on it all... and he doesn't notice it. He doesn't see what I feel and I'm too much of a coward to bring it up because Lucas has been in my life since I was five and I can't handle the thought of losing that… and so, he doesn't see it... but Jake does."

When she mentioned Jake, her expression becomes more conflicted. There is guilt in her eyes, but also a growing realisation of her own emotions. It was as if she had finally found a missing piece of herself, and the complexity of it all weighed on her.

"And somehow, he hears me when I speak," Peyton admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of guilt and longing. "And he recommends music. And he tells me to hang in there with Lucas. And he sits beside me at practice when Lucas runs an hour over, determined to get the next game win. And Jake's there when my art gets shown, avoiding games that Lucas refuses to just so he can see me display what matters to me... and he's always there when Lucas is not. And it's not that Lucas is mean, or rude, or even cruel. It's that we became this machine, going through the motions, and so I just stopped asking him to come to my art showings. And I stop sharing music with him. And we just go through the motions. We stay Lucas and Peyton. But he's never just Lucas, and I'm never just Peyton."

I swallow hard, captivated by the story and unsure how I feel about it all. I sit there watching her, stuck between being afraid to hear about the act of betrayal and feeling empathy for the young girl who just didn't know who she was and how she felt.

"Until one day, I'm sitting down at the edge of the court with everyone eating lunch, and it's game day. And everyone is hyped, and everyone is happy, and Lucas is telling us all how big of a night it is… and I cannot stop looking at Jake. And Jake cannot stop looking at me, and I realise as I'm looking at him that I'm finally understanding it, you know?"

When I don't answer, Peyton closes her eyes, a single tear coming to the corner and pooling there, threatening to fall.

"I'm finally understanding... this is what love is meant to feel like."

She breathes hard, looking at me with eyes full of angst.

"And when Lucas drinks himself silly after the big game and Jake has helped me carry him inside and we get him into bed... I'm thankful to be alone with Jake. I'm thankful for him driving me home and I'm not wanting the night to end. So, it doesn't..."

I squeeze her hand, Peyton hastily wiping at the side of her eyes.

"So, Rachel isn't lying. I did hurt Lucas. I hurt him badly, and he could have disowned me. He could have walked away. No one would have blamed him. But he forgave me. He forgave us. And even though he shields his heart behind bravado and an immense talent, and at times his cocky brother, deep down I still see that five-year-old boy helping me up after I fell over and I guess I just like the fact that someone else can see that in him, too."

She smiles at me then, and I can't help but smile back. Because I realise underneath that cool girl persona is another girl just like me, trying to figure life out. When she sees my response, I can see her shoulders lose the tenseness that had been carrying as she spoke and there's nothing more that I can say except…

"Okay."

As Peyton spoke of Lucas forgiving her, there was gratitude in her eyes, and a touch of amazement. It was a testament to the strength of their bond, and I could see the depth of her affection for him. When I finally responded with a simple acknowledgement, Peyton's relief was palpable. Her shoulders relaxed, and a genuine smile graced her lips. It was a moment of connection and understanding between us.

"You know, you're the first person who has heard about it and not asked me a million questions, which is pretty damn surreal given your current situation." She chuckles, a sound laced with relief and wonderment.

I shrug, grabbing some muffin and throwing it into my mouth. "I don't judge, trust me. I've made my fair share of mistakes."

As Peyton's story came to a pause, she turned her attention towards me, her gaze piercing yet friendly. Her eyes, previously filled with vulnerability and emotion, now held a mischievous glint. The shift in her expression from introspection to curiosity was palpable.

"So you and Lucas, huh?" Peyton's voice carried a playful tone, the unspoken question hanging in the air. Her question seemed to echo in the cozy corner of the cafeteria, creating a moment of light-heartedness.

I couldn't help but chuckle at her inquiry, feeling the warmth of our budding friendship. In response, I grabbed a piece of my muffin and tossed it playfully in her direction. Peyton's laughter filled the air, a carefree sound that contrasted with the deep revelations she had just shared.

"I get it," she began, nodding and sending a smile my way. "There's more to him than people realise."

Our conversation had given me fresh insight into his complexity, and I couldn't deny that I was beginning to see him in a different light. The playful banter between us brought a sense of ease to the moment, further solidifying the trust and connection that had formed during our conversation. It was a scene that showcased the multifaceted nature of our emerging friendship, a blend of vulnerability, empathy, and humour that made our bond more meaningful.

I roll my eyes, but there is no point denying that she's right. She knows it and so do I. So all I can do is speak the truth. Especially since the truth now seemed to be our thing. And I had to admit, the truth was so much easier than denial… for now.

"I'm starting to see that." I grabbed my coffee and got to my feet, Peyton following suit as she threw her now empty salad box into the nearest bin as we made our way towards the exit.

"... which is incredibly annoying, just so you know."

Her laughter echoed throughout the cafeteria as we left. People naturally turned towards the beautiful sound, but she didn't even notice.

Like I said, the girl was cool.

As always, let me know what you think by reviewing.

Your words spurn me on.