Once again, take your time with this one. You're going to want to savor it. This chapter is a love letter to anyone who has struggled to put themselves out there, and a thank you note to anyone who has made it this far. Thank you all for your unbelievable support. XOXO - VB

- Trainwreck -

Shikamaru is still dreaming about that lemonade when Ruya passes him another plate of dumplings. This is the third one he's trying to cram into his section, and their elbows jostle together awkwardly in the confined space of their small table. He eats the spicy dumplings while trying not to drop them into his lap. The filling is so hot it eats away at the lining of his mouth. But it's the only thing available and he's starving, so he eats it anyway.

The restaurant is absolutely slammed with festival tourists. Tabletops are doubled up with customers sharing seats. The crowd is burning through food at a fervent rate. By the time he and Sakura had located their travel party, the restaurant was sold out of most of the entrees. He and Sakura now sit across from each other trying to fill up on what ever appetizers happen to be left. The pickings are slim and he's still hungry.

He'd consider the night a total bust if he wasn't having the time of his life.

He takes a moment to look around at the other tables, the other patrons. The only things the restaurant seems to have on hand is lukewarm beer and spicy dumplings. Their own party of five is crowded around a table barely meant to fit three. Ruya's elbow bumps his again and he's starting to feel like a sardine in a can.

Across the table, Sakura and Kiwa chat animatedly about the town and what it's like when the festival isn't happening. Kiwa is a bit of a local celebrity, except it seems she's more infamous than anything else. His theory proves to be true when they ask their waiter for another round of drinks, only to be given a guarded glare.

"I don't know, are you actually going to pay me this time?" The boy asks. He collects a tower of empty dumpling trays from the center of their table.

"Of course not." Kiwa says, pointing to Utsuho. "He is."

Utsuho pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning like this has happened before. "Is there anyone in this town you haven't screwed over?"

Ruya leans over to Sakura, muttering around a mouth full of food. "Check your back pockets when you say goodbye tomorrow. She's been known to keep 'mission souvenirs.'"

Sakura's laugh of delight makes him forget the warm beer and the overly-salty dumpling sauce. He forgets the loud noises and the other patrons who keep banging into the back of his chair. He hasn't seen her relaxed like this in a very long time. The environment must be triggering memories of Ino's birthday party, because he finds himself staring at her again like he did that night.

It makes him want to take her hand and lead her away to somewhere private. Somewhere he can explore the lines of her neck without being interrupted…

The room comes back into focus when Kiwa kicks his foot under the table. She's giving him a wicked grin, and he knows she's caught him staring at Sakura. He pretends to be invested in finishing the rest of his dumplings, washing the chili oil down with the dregs of his drink.

When he looks up, Kiwa is still grinning. His absolute obsession with his best friend is going to be the death of him.

Sakura might not have noticed his blips of hyper fixation yet, but apparently the mud-user nin has. The conversation that follows feels like a targeted attack meant to expose his deepest secrets. Thankfully, Sakura is known to be notoriously oblivious. Hopefully, he will be allowed to suffer in silence.

"So Shikamaru, will you be coming with us next time as well?" Kiwa's tone is a practiced air of innocence.

"What do you mean?" Sakura asks from her side. Her lips are turning red and plump from the chili oil, and her face is flushed from their collective buzz.

"I mean, this probably won't be the last time you two have to travel for a summit, right?"

Ruya chimes in here, oblivious to what ever Kiwa's intentions are. "No one expects it, but it happens all the time. Someone gets involved with the Daimyo network and next thing you know, we're being called up once a month to shuttle them from event to event. A single Daimyo mission can often turn into a multi year commuter tour."

Kiwa's eyes shine bright like she's hoping for this outcome. "My money is on three weeks before you get called away again." She says.

"You don't have any money, remember." Utsuho growls, still upset that he's apparently paying.

"I…don't think that will be the case here." Sakura says, but her tone makes it sound like she isn't convinced. Apparently, becoming a commuter nin wasn't a possibility she had considered. "This was just a one time deal. I went to the summit to advocate for my bill, but I have responsibilities at the hospital. It isn't fair to leave them short staffed for long periods of time, and I don't think the Hokage would let me travel that often anyway."

Deep down, Shikamaru is relieved at her answer. He doesn't like the idea of her being gone any more than she has to be. Any more than he wants her to be...

"And what about you?" Kiwa asks, shifting the focus back to Shikamaru. His skin prickles up in warning. He doesn't like being the target of her machinations. "Anything tying you down to the village? High powered career? Secret girlfriend?"

'Shut up you jerk.' He thinks, shooting her a glare.

He knows exactly what she's doing, and he's not going to rise to the bait. He's about to subtly tell her to stop prying when Sakura goes completely stiff at her side. Her posture becomes still as a cadaver, and he can tell she's holding her breath.

His overactive brain can't help but pick her apart- the way her pulse has become shallow. How she's staring lasers through the bottom of her glass. Is she… actually waiting to hear his answer?

"No to both." He says simply, but he says it to Sakura more than to the table. He can't seem to take his eyes off her now.

"Stop meddling, Kiwa." Ruya says through another mouthful of food. The guy might be a high maintenance roommate, but he had Shikamaru's back.

"I'm just asking!" Kiwa says defensively. She's still smiling when the waiter brings out their next round of drinks. He watches Kiwa take the first one and put it directly into Sakura's hands. They cheers each other and down the drinks without waiting for the rest of the table.

Sakura is definitely avoiding his gaze. He wants her to look at him, but she's focused on her hands. Why won't she look at him?

They still haven't had a chance to talk about that day. About their lightning flash of a moment outside the Summit chambers. About how they both might have been open to the possibility of something between them, even if it was just a passing thought on her end. He hadn't had a chance to talk to her about Temari either. About how he had left things back in Suna.

"I did have someone before." He finds himself saying. The table is caught off guard at his proffered admission, but it's Sakura who he needs to hear this. They had been having such a good time today. He isn't going to let a single second of it go to waste. He doesn't want her to misunderstand…

"Technically, I was in a long distance relationship, but looking back I don't know if we could even call it that. We mostly exchange letters, and we barely saw each other. Sometimes, I think our relationship came about because we weren't actually ready for something real. The distance was a safety net. I didn't understand what love was, back then. But I think I'm starting to."

Sakura's face is slowly turning red, and her breath is starting to pick up speed. Could he be reading this wrong? Was she finally ready to listen to what he had to say?

The rest of the convoy team goes dead silent around them. Utsuho is transfixed on his food, and Ruya squirms uncomfortably in his chair. Kiwa is staring at him in morbid fascination, but he doesn't even notice them.

His mouth seems intent to just keep on exposing itself, all the while, his eyes remain fixed on Sakura. It's like she's in a trance, and he's in one with her. Why won't she look at him? He just wants her to look at him.

"Ultimately, Temari and I wanted different things, and we were very different people. I was able to see her briefly in Suna, and together we found some amicable closure. We parted as colleagues if not friends, but there was no love lost there."

A final feeling bubbles up before he can stop it from slipping out. He's already come this far…

"The truth is, we stopped trying a long time ago, and I was already having feelings for someone else. So no, I don't have a secret girlfriend. Just a girl I've cared about for a really long time."

Sakura's knuckles are a death grip on her glass. She's a held breath away from shattering it all together. Kiwa's face has gone pale as a ghost. She hadn't expected him to really answer, had expected him to play stoic and disinterested at best.

But she didn't know him when he was sufficiently motivated. She had miscalculated, and he was tired. He doesn't care that they're surrounded by a room full of people. He just wants Sakura to look at him. To look at him and see the everything he's been trying to hide from her, so he can finally stop pretending.

Sakura lets out a single, gasping breath. It's the trigger that sets off the rest of the table.

Ruya looks away from the train wreck developing in front of him. "I'm going to go order another round." He says, taking the silent opening to flee from the table. Utsuho immediately stands up to follow as well.

Kiwa looks like she wants to stay just where she is and watch exactly how this disaster plays out, but Utsuho grabs her by the scruff of her neck, dragging her away to give them some privacy.

Just like that, they are a party of three: Sakura, Shikamaru, and his big dumb stupid vulnerable heart.

Sakura is a thin candle flame trembling in a hurricane. She's an animal backed into a corner. She's fragile like a flower and she's fragile like a bomb. He just wants her to look up at him. Finally, agonizingly slowly, she does.

"Shikamaru-" She begins.

"Let me get this out first. Please." He says, cutting her off quietly. The restaurant has disappeared around them like he's having an out of body experience. He's never been so scared in his life, but he's never been more ready to go down in flames.

"I always told myself I wanted to be average, and nothing more. I wanted to live an average life and work an average job. I wanted to find a normal girl and have a normal wedding, and work as few years as possible until I could comfortably retire. But that was before…"

Her emerald gaze jumps to her hands, to the table, to the crumpled up straw wrappers and abandoned food trays. He has to make her look up at him again. Half measures aren't going to do. He can't hide in the safe shadows of plausible deniability anymore. You don't earn a woman like her by being an average man.

"I was always content to do the bare minimum. But that was when I only wanted the bare minimum out of life."

His face is hot as a sunburn, and speaking feels like pushing a boulder up hill. But he pushes harder, not allowing himself to quit. "But then I get around you, and I want to try. I like who I am when I know you're watching me. I don't mind the work if I'm doing it beside you, and I'm willing to work so hard, Sakura."

He doesn't know what else to say, except her name. "But I'm also tired."

She finally looks up. It's like she's been slapped out of a dream and back into reality. He knows she wants to run from the table, but she's paralyzed with fear to the spot. Her muscles are taut piano wire holding her bones together. She's only breathing when she has to.

And then he says it, because he has to. "I'm tired of pretending that I'm not in love with you."

When he finally says the words, he's exhausted. Not from tonight, and not from this week. He's exhausted from years of lying to himself. Of telling himself he could be happy with good enough. The truth is, there's only one thing in this world he really wanted, even if it means changing everything.

He knows he wants a life with her. He want the same life they already have, but he wants more of it. All of it. What ever her answer, what ever came of this night… at least he'd tried. At least he didn't settle, just this once.

Across the table, Sakura is a blade balanced on a beveled edge. She's torn between falling in of two directions. He doesn't know which way she will fall, but he knows he will accept it either way.

"I think-" She stammers. Her voice is a barely audible whisper in a too crowded room. Finally, her wide eyes lock onto his. "I think I need some water."

And before he can say another word, her chair is empty. Her pink hair slipping out through the righthand hallway. She's made her escape and he didn't stop her. Her full glass of water sits before him, still untouched.

- Tiles -

Stars spin around her head as she leans against the cool tile walls. Her nerves are on fire. She's hyperventilating. Her body is a live wire with no ground, and she's seconds from electrocuting everyone around her. She'd fled from the table as fast as she could, afraid the outpouring of chakra that threatened to spill from her brain would shatter the very building around her.

She clutches a chakra-infused hand to her heart, trying to pulse it back into a normal rhythm. His name in her head is a trip wire. She'd been so close to nearly killing everyone.

Except she hadn't answered him. Why hadn't she answered him? Why had she just left him like that?

She turns on the bathroom tap with shaking hands, splashing cold water up into her face. Nothing could have prepared her for everything Shikamaru had said. For the way he'd said it. Everything.

She cant stop her body shaking. She's spilling water everywhere. She wants to run as fast as she can.

She wants to run back to him.

But her old anxieties stalk her now, coming out of the shadows when she's wounded and vulnerable. What if she screwed this up like she screwed up everything? What if she disappoints him? What if she loses him?

What if this is a double or nothing bet, and even love won't save their friendship when he finds out who she really is.

She turns off the taps when the sink begins to overflow. She rummages in her trouser pockets, looking for a kerchief to wipe the water off her face. She pulls it out with a hard yank and something small clatters to the floor. The sound echoes loudly in the empty space, focusing her scattered thoughts to a pinpoint beam.

She stares distantly down to her feet, loose strands of long hair spilling over her eyes. The black knight chess tile stares up at her from the floor. She can not breathe. Her hands are numb.

"Suna is…really far."

"You said you needed me, and you did. So I came."

"I'm tired of pretending that I'm not in love with you."

And just like that, her anxiety is undone.

The world goes quiet and still around her. It's like the painful high pitched noise that was drilling through her head has suddenly released its pressure. Her burning limbs cool and her breath becomes slow. The numbness in her face prickles back to life. Her heartbeat is still a frantic mess, but now she's only distantly aware of it rather than being consumed.

Shikamaru. This was Shikamaru.

She doesn't know what she wants to do. She prays for the strength to be brave enough to dare.

'You'll figure it out, Sakura.' Kakashi's words echo in her head.

And then-

'Oh god,' She pitches violently from fear to worry. 'Oh god, I just left him there-'

Then she was running back the way she came, the black knight tile safely in her palm.

- Slow Hands -

She shoves open the bathroom door, nearly tearing the thing off its hinges in her rush to get back to their table. She doesn't know where the convoy nin have gone- if she is already alone, if he's already left her…

But Shikamaru is standing there in the hallway, waiting for her when she comes barreling out. His body language is that of a man defeated, not the care-free posture she knows and loves.

When he sees her, he puts on a forced mask of reassurance, wearing the neutral expression like a shield. He leans his shoulder into the wall across from her, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed. His eyes scan the lines of her face, searching for an answer so she doesn't have to say it out loud.

But she still doesn't know what she wants, and so he is unable to read her.

He speaks first when she can't bring herself to talk. His voice is an easy, soothing cadence, the kind he might use on an animal he's trying not to scare. He doesn't even step into her space but instead hovers on the edge of it. He's just out of reach, and she's just out of her mind.

"Utsuho already paid the tab." He says, voice cracking as he continues on. "So we can leave, when ever you're ready. Or I can go first if that's what you want. I just…I didn't want to leave without letting you know."

His pretense at apathy is the thing that finally kills her.

He's trying to play his tone off like nothing has happened. Like nothing between them has to change if that's what she wants. All she has to do is say the word, and they could go back to playing pretend. To being less than they actually were, even if it would kill him.

She knows he's trying to give her space to respond without pushing her even further away.

But she doesn't want space. Not from him.

The chess tile in her fingers is a soothing talisman. She turns it over in time with her heartbeat. Flip, flip, flip.

"Oh." Is all she manages to say.

And then, she decides to do something brave. Braver than gripping her last kunai and cutting off her hair to protect her friends. Braver than stepping into the new Hokage's office, begging Tsunade to make her strong. Braver even than staring Sasori down with nothing but her fists raised.

She takes a single, tiny, courageous step forward towards the man she loves.

"Okay."

And then he's kissing her, and she's kissing him back, and no time had ever existed before everything that was happening right now.

Both of his hands cup the nape of her neck, fingers fisting into the strands of her hair. The thing that was embers between them fully ignites, the blaze erupting and consuming them whole. He is fire in her lungs and she can not put him out. His tongue runs deep into her mouth like he knows it by heart.

She pulls him closer, trying to drown in his frame. Her arms threaded hungrily under his, wrapping around the hard planes of his body. Her fingers dig into his shoulder blades with a desperate need that neither of them fully understands. It's overwhelming. It's too hot…

It was like being burnt to cinders and embracing the ashes, clinging on a little longer just so she could burn a little more.

She moans against his expert mouth, and when she does the energy changes. Their boiling bodies slows to a simmer, less frantic but still hot enough to burn. He holds her like a held breath he doesn't want to let go. She's dizzy from his hands and dizzy from his kiss and if he weren't holding her so tight, she was sure she would faint to the ground on the spot.

Their shoulders bump the walls of the narrow hallway. Hours pass in a single second.

"Eh-hem."

Someone clears their throat beside them, and the two spring apart with all the subtlety of a floodgate.

A stranger gestured an awkward finger to the bathroom door behind Sakura, face openly unamused. Sakura steps to the side to let them pass, hands covering her mouth in abject humiliation. Shikamaru's fingers are a possessive grip on her hips, anchoring her to his touch. While she's busy spiraling from what has just happened, he guides her out through the darkened hallway.

"This way." He says, switching his grip to her hand and maneuvering them out through an open back door. They step out under a covered awning connecting the restaurant to the Ryokan's back gardens. Her hand is still clutched in his iron grip as he leads her down the breezeway path.

Their tableau is the mirror image of another one from just a few hours ago. A lifetime ago. He only slows their pace when they make it to the bunkhouse, both of them heavily out of breath.

He doesn't take her to her door, or even to his. Instead, he pulls her around the corner where they are hidden out of view.

Her skin comes alive at the sudden tenderness of his touch- the way his thumb caresses her knuckles or the hair he brushes gently from her eyes. He keeps touching her like he's not sure she's real. Like he's trying to reassure himself she's actually there.

The frame of his body around her feels like an unbreakable wall, shielding her from the outside world. But there is insecurity in his eyes. She knows he will crumble at her faintest touch if she isn't careful with him.

Once they are safely tucked under the eves porch, they sink into the shelter of the awning together. It's as if the shadows bend to Shikamaru's very thoughts, shifting to cover them completely. The sounds of the festival ring all around them, but out here in the back gardens, they are the last two people on earth.

Here they can talk without being overheard. Maybe here, she can finally say with her words what she's already been trying to say with her limbs.

She realizes belatedly that they are both still panting, out of words and out of breath. She is feeling shy and so must he, because suddenly neither of them can look at the other. The floorboards on the weathered porch are the most fascinating pieces of wood that Sakura has ever seen. Beside her, Shikamaru is still holding her hand like he's terrified to let it go. Like he's worried if he does he might never get it back again.

When he turns to her, Sakura can see from his face that he needs to say something. He's already preparing himself to get shut down completely, bracing himself for her rejection.

"I want you to understand that I'm not expecting anything from you. The last thing I want to do is rush you into something you don't completely want." His voice is a tremor of vulnerability, of understanding and desire. "I don't want anything that you aren't prepared to give-"

Unlike Shikamaru, Sakura is really bad with words. But she is really good at following through. So instead of trying to say what she feels, she steps into the circle of his arms. She cuts him off before he can finish what ever he's about to say.

His words are forgotten when she slides a hand inside the folds of his jacket and another up to grip the collar of his shirt. This time when their lips meet, it's embers dragged out with intentional slowness. Their tongues press together as he pushes her back against the wall. His focus is inches wide and miles deep. He is a genius in ways she didn't know one could be.

She knows how he would make love to her by the way he holds her now- aggressiveness tempered with adoration. Intensity and endless time.

At first, his thoughts are lost in her moans, but gradually he finds himself again. He kisses her with purpose, not just with hunger. He's using the language she understands best, and he's bearing his soul to her with it. His movements become slow, then deep, all consuming. He tills to a final long kiss.

He lingers against her like the future doesn't matter. Her body is a riddle he want to take his time solving. His fingers read her nerve endings like poetry, and she goes limp in his arms when her legs give out.

Because finally, she understands. This….. This is what it feels like to be wanted by him. And never in her wildest dreams did she think her best friend might ever want her this way. It's only now she realizes how badly she wants him too.

He breaks their kiss with obvious reluctance. With shyness expressed in a trembling breath. His fingers have gone still in her hair. His touch is light as a shadow and warm as a flame. She folds her face into the sanctuary of his jacket collar.

A thrilling shiver runs down her bones when he brings a hand to her lower hip. Her brain is water and her mind a sieve. Finally they look at each other- small furtive glances that make her want to kiss him again.

"Since when?" She asked, finally able to voice one of the hundreds of questions playing double-time in her mind.

He is silent for a moment before answering her. He's trying to be intentional and precise with his words, the way he is with everything.

"I think… the feelings were always there. I just didn't know how to recognize them."

Her face is on fire. It's always on fire. She asks the next question she can fish from her mind, even if she's scared to know the answer. "So… what now?"

He stares at her as he thinks. He is thoughtful, then hopeful… then finally resolved.

And then, as if against his own will, he takes a step back from her arms. Sakura can feel the shift in his mood. He is pulling himself away so they can each think clearly. "Tomorrow we go home." He says.

At her worried face, he quickly amendes his thoughts. "We go home, and you take a couple of days to think about everything. I've had a long time to think about my feelings, about what I really want. I want you to have that same consideration."

And then he's babbling like he did at the restaurant, a stream of honesty he doesn't know how to shut off.

"I'm not going to jump into this and ruin what I might have with you just because we moved too fast. I'm a very patient man when I want to be. I can wait a little longer until you have your answer. After springing this on you in front of the convoy, I think I owe you that much."

She wants to answer him right away, to tell him he's crazy to doubt her feelings. But it was just like Shikamaru to be methodical and tactical, the foil to her frantic enthusiasm. She was wild and passionate, anxious and obsessive. She knew logically his was a good idea. Her feelings tended to change on a dime. She owed him that time to consider things as well.

But there was still that quiet voice insider- the voice she had only just recently found. It had finally learned how to speak, and now demanded to be heard. 'Be brave,' it said. 'He's worth it.'

So she looks up. Really, really looks at him. His dark gaze caresses the curves of her face. She lingers in the moment for as long as she can stand it.

"I don't want to wait until we're home before I get to kiss you again." She says. It's the most honest thing she's ever said.

And Shikamaru… He lets his eyes take their fill of her. They only grow hungrier for it. She had stoked in him something wicked and dangerous, but also something she could tame.

He kisses her, Once. Twice. Then he pulls away again. He takes her by the hand, confidently this time. His slow steps make it abundantly clear she can pull away from him at any moment. Together they turn the corner to their connected rooms.

He walks her to her door, waiting patiently while she unlock it. He steps away from the doorframe once she's inside, but he doesn't move to leave completely. He stands there with his hands in his pockets, showing her he is willing to be patient, but ready to be impatient too if that's what she wants.

He doesn't move so much as a finger until she reaches out to grab his jacket. He carefully walks her backwards into her room. Their mouths meet in hungry kisses pressed into her swollen pink lips. His hands are preoccupied. He kicks her door shut behind him.

It doesn't open again for the rest of the night.

- Midnight -

Shikamaru wakes up in the middle of the night, shifting from one lucid dream and into another.

In the dark, Sakura has stretched in her sleep to press up against his side. Her bare skin is petal soft under his fingertips where he absently grazes her. He pulls her closer into him, despite the heat of the room. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

He wonders how they finally got here. The twists and turns and years in each others company, and how it all brought them now to this. He wonders why it took them so long.

"We overcame our obstacles in time to have our love at the end…but I wish every day that we'd had it from the start, too."

Hitoshi's prophetic words have haunted him since leaving Suna. He's tempted to mourn the past they could have had. Instead, when he looks at her, all he can think about is the future.

He tries not to get his hopes up. He knows that things may change tomorrow when they get home and go back to their normal lives. It might mean leaving what ever this is here in this room.

On the one hand, he's grateful to have had this night with her. But on the other, he's greedy. He wants more of this time, and all the times that come after. He gets his hopes up anyway, because he knows what he can do when he puts his mind to it.

He thinks about staring at her over a game of drunk chess.

Of watching her in a deadly forest, taking on ninja twice her skill.

Of listening to her impassioned speech from outside the doors of the Summit chambers.

Of watching her flare chakra on the battle field, desperate to save a red haired boy who'd once tried to kill her.

She has a power over him when she has power over herself. He wants to see her like that more often. But he's just as content to shelter her when she needs to be vulnerable too.

He was being honest with himself when he realized he didn't want to be her friend. He wanted to be her equal. He wanted to be more.

He wanted to be the slow hands in the late hours of the night that gently unlocked the unbreakable woman beneath him. Loving her might be like trying to tame a forest fire with his bare hands, but maybe he's just dumb enough to try.

He knows what he's feeling isn't just lust either. He knows this because his fantasies don't stop at kissing her. They carry on like a river that travels for miles, far beyond what the eye can see.

He acknowledges what he must, that there are daydreams of mouths and moans and teeth…of doing everything they have already done, but making it better through attention and time.

But those are thin fantasies that don't hold up to daylight. You can't built a life together on lust alone. Yes, he wants to do countless things to her… but it's the tiny, lazy, boring things he want to do with her that scares him.

It's the little fantasies that have been brewing in his thoughts for a while- of making her laugh while holding hands in the market place. Of doing dishes together and venting about work. He thinks about kissing her in front of a priest and every single person they know. He thinks about the man he will have to become if he's going to keep up with her.

He knows he can be lazy, and knows she can be unhinged. But he isn't scared of her, and he isn't scared of putting in the work.

Shikamaru folds himself into her, and knows what he has to do. He wasn't going to tell her what it would be like if she decided to give that future a shot. Because at the end of the day, Sakura wasn't about words. She was about actions and manifesting that which had the potential to be. So he wouldn't tell her what it would be like.

He was going to show her who he was.

He kisses her jaw, and drifts back to sleep, hoping that that will be enough.

- Authors Note -

I really put myself in Shikamaru's mind for this one. His love confession is as genuine as I could make it, and I hope his own voice truly came thought. It was important to me that his speech sounded like him and not just any other made up character. I would love to know what you guys think.