Текст книги "Man Up Playboy "

Автор книги: Danielle Sibarium

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter 4

After five long minutes of waiting to place my order, the line at the coffee shop thins out. I'm already running late. I don't know why I bothered waiting in the first place. Now that there are only two of us left on line, the guys behind the counter are goofing off, laughing and throwing towels at each other. I need to remember not to come here again.

Normally I wouldn't give a rat's ass, but the never ending vibrations from my phone have me ready to pounce on the first asshole to cross my path.

It's been blowing up all morning. I don't bother checking to see who it is. I made a mistake with the girl from the club last night. Noah said she looked familiar. He also warned me that she'd been staring at me all night with stalker like intensity. But she was hot, and we hit it off.

It wasn't until after Maddie and I had been going at it for a while and I called her Madison instead of Madeline, that she turned into a banshee. She pushed me away and picked up everything in her reach; a brush, a glass from the coffee table, and threw them at my head.

Crazy bitch. She followed up that five star act by screaming the most cliché things like, "How dare you," and "You conceited prick."

I didn't bother to answer her which set her off even more. She tried for a reaction one last time as I headed toward the door.

"How can you fuck me, not call, then go home with me a second time and not know who I am?" That doesn't usually happen. If I go for a repeat, I'm well aware of it.

"Guess that tells you something about your skills, or lack of in that department," I snapped back before heading out the door.

I couldn't get out of there faster if someone told me the building was about to implode. As I slipped out, Maddie, chased after me covering herself with a sheet.

"This isn't over, Cooper. This isn't the end of me. I promise to make sure every girl knows what a scumbag you are!"

She threatened to blast me on every social media site known to man. What I want to know is how the hell did she get my number?

I don't give out my real number. That's just asking for trouble, but somehow she has it. She must've snatched my phone when I went to the bathroom. Either that or she works for the NSA, because she fucking has it, and keeps texting me screen shots of the messages she's posted on Facebook, Snapchat, and Instagram.

The bitch posted statuses on each one along with my phone number. Message after message pours in. Most are calling me names, but there are a few offers sprinkled throughout. I have half a mind to send her screen shots of those, but it's not worth it. Bottom line, I have no choice. I'm going to have to change my number.

"Quickie?"

I look up at the acne laced, teenage boy and shake my head. The question isn't meant for me, it's meant for the lady in front of me on line. Idiot. I laugh to myself. If he thinks that line is going to help him see any action, he's in for a rude awakening.

"A bit late to ask now, don't you think?"

That's a nice way to say not interested.

"Sorry, I didn't see you sooner. There were so many people when you came in."

He seriously can't be that dense, can he? In the middle of trying to get some action, he's telling her she's not hot enough for him to notice her in a crowd.

"Then I guess it's good for you that I'm not looking for it today," she answers with a light, pleasant tone.

"Kids," I say shaking my head, still not looking at her. "I'm sure he meant that as a compliment and didn't realize how rude it was." I say stuffing my phone in my pocket and skimming my eyes up her bare calves to the hem line of her skirt.

Liking the view, I continue looking her over, noticing how her dark skirt hugs the enticing curves of her round ass and hips. It clings to her, highlighting her tiny waist.

Shit, if the bottom half looks this good, I can only imagine what the top half looks like. Actually, with the bottom half looking this good, who gives a fuck what the top half looks like?

Still, my eyes continue their journey, and take a minor detour while examining both of her very perky, saluting-at-full-attention breasts. The white button down shirt she's wearing is opened to show just enough cleavage that I'm imagining all the ways I'd like to get lost in that valley, and not far down enough that she looks trashy.

"He wasn't rude," her voice pulls me from my trance. "The rude one is the guy eavesdropping that thinks he has the right to comment on someone else's conversation. The same guy who can't seem to tear his eyes away from my breasts."

That attitude cools me off a little. I'm still dealing with one bitch, I don't need to get myself tangled up with another one. I bring my eyes up to meet hers and tell her where she could take that attitude of hers.

Two large, round, blue orbs framed by the longest, thickest lashes I've ever seen, pierce into me. I falter a second, struck by how beautiful she is. I was wrong about not caring what the top half looks like. She looks perfect. Like a living doll.

"Sorry, it's just seeing you, and hearing him ask for a quickie, I can't help but think age and experience will serve him well when he learns to take his time and show appreciation to a girl, excuse me, a woman," I let my eyes roam over and caress her body once again before locking them with hers. "As painstakingly beautiful as you."

"Painstakingly?" Her perfectly waxed eyebrows rise up in amusement.

"Mmm."

I take a small step closer to her, and bring my mouth to the side of her face. Her breath doesn't hitch and she doesn't move, not closer, not further. She stays right where she is, as if she's neutral. As if I have no effect on her, and I'm actually worried that I might not. What if she's a lesbian? My mind races with images of her naked, having her tits sucked by another chick. Maybe if I play my cards right, I could convince her to let me watch.

"Painstakingly, because it will feel like someone seared my heart with a stake if you leave here without promising to go out with me tonight."

She ignores me, as if I didn't say anything and turns back to the barista approaching with her drink. I wait for an answer, but one never comes.

"Thanks, Teddy," she says before heading for the door.

She's walking away from me? I can't fucking believe she's just going to walk away. She probably is a lesbian.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," I say jumping in front of her.

"That would be because I didn't give it," she says looking nonplused again. "And for the record, you shouldn't use words you don't understand the meanings of. You totally blew the meaning of painstakingly. It means you do something with such care and diligence, it becomes almost painful."

"If you give me a chance, I promise to do you with that kind of care and diligence."

"Goodbye, asshole."

"No, wait. I'm sorry. Give me five minutes. Please." I give her the pleading eyes look I keep reserved for my sister. It's the look she can't resist, and it's gotten me out of more loads of laundry and dirty dishes than I can count. I see the hardness of my doll's eyes soften, and I know she's unable to resist the look as well. "Let's sit and talk. Here. Now."

"The clock starts . . ." She pulls her phone out and sets the timer. "Now."

"You're seriously not going to give me more than five minutes?"

"That's what you asked for. Now if I were you, I'd get to the point. You're on the clock."

There's a playful glint in her eyes. That's good. The fact that I convinced her to talk to me has to mean something, because this crazy, desperate need to be with her, next to her, even if I'm just staring has me all out of sorts. So out of sorts I realize, that's exactly what I'm doing right now. Instead of talking, I'm sitting here like a fucking idiot staring at her.

"Sorry. I don't mean to act all creepy and shit. You're just so beautiful, and . . . Hey, did you ever see that movie? It's old. The one where these two geeky kids create the perfect woman by connecting a doll to their computer? And then when she first comes to life, they can't speak, or do anything because they're so awed by her?"

She smiles. I'm softening her up, at least a little.

"Yes."

"That's what this is like, like you're a shatter-my-world doll in the flesh."

"I'm not familiar with that one." She's struggling to keep a straight face. "Tell me about her."

"Well, for one thing, she's perfect. Drop dead gorgeous. And once you see her your world as you know it is over, because she's all you can think about."

"Your time is almost up."

"Okay, okay." She knocked me back on my heels just as I thought I was winning her over. "Getting back to the movie, it's like you were made for me, because I'm not usually this awkward around girls. But with you, I'm tripping over my words, and I'm totally striking out."

I pull my eyebrows together giving my disappointed look, and hope she buys it. I know she can see past the bullshit, but I'm hoping she sees that she really is affecting me. Heavy silence looms between us as she takes a sip of her coffee before answering.

"Maybe you're not totally striking out. You do have two strikes on you, but you just took a ball. Let's see if you can even out the count."

"You like baseball?" I smile, stunned.

"Baseball, football, hockey. Don't look so surprised. There's something hot about watching a bunch of alpha males trying to dominate each other."

She's into guys. I want to drop to my knees and give thanks.

"Alpha males, huh?" Now I'm the one smiling. I can serve that up for her on a silver platter. "A girl that's into sports. I think I've died and gone to Heaven."

"It's not that unusual."

"For me it is." I don't want to admit it's unusual because I never really give a shit what the girls I'm with are into, just as long as they're into me and we have the same end game in mind.

"If you ever go to games, or even just watch, there are probably as many women there as men."

"When I go to a game, I go with my buddies, and we go for the game, not the girls."

A haughty sound leaves her mouth, and I can tell she doesn't believe me. Sharp as a whip this one.

"Since you seem to be holding the little details about yourself hostage, I'll go first. The name's Cooper."

She leans forward in her seat, forearms on the table, eyes locked on mine. I can't help myself. Like a lap dog, I mirror her movement.

"Here's the deal, Cooper. I don't have time for bullshit. I have a crazy schedule and the last thing I need is to fall for some good-for-nothing-pretty-boy, whose only goal is to fuck with me."

"You think you could fall for me?" I wink as I flash a smile her way.

"That's what you heard?"

"Hell yeah. You wouldn't have mentioned it if you weren't attracted to me. And I have to tell you that makes me happy. Shit, no. It fucking thrills me because, baby, I'm more than just attracted to you. I'm enchanted. Be-fucking-witched. Truth is I saw your face for the first time less than five minutes ago and I can't pull my eyes away from you. I'd even go as far as saying I'm borderline obsessed."

"And you know this after less than five minutes?"

I nod. "The truth is, if I leave here without your number, I don't think I'll be able to live with myself. Hell I don't think I'll be able to live, because my life will be meaningless and empty without you in it."

I can't help myself, I use a cheesy line. Although I rarely need to pull them out, I know girls fall for bullshit like this all the time.

"How about you give me your number instead?"

"Huh?" As if on cue, my phone vibrates in my pocket reminding me, as if I needed a reminder, that my number is off limits. "I can't."

"That's what I thought," she says getting to her feet.

"No, no, no." I reach a hand out to stop her. "Don't leave."

Her phone chimes, indicating that my five minutes are up. I need more time with her.

"I don't have time or interest in married men, or guys in committed relationships. My self-respect is worth more to me than the momentarily thrill of being your dirty little secret."

"No. You've got it wrong. I'm not either of those things. I just . . . I need to change my number . . . Let's just say it's a bad breakup. She thinks things were much more serious than they were and she isn't taking it well."

"So it's her fault?" She asks and I don't detect an ounce of sarcasm in her voice.

Relieved she's getting it, I let out a long breath and let my guard down a bit before I answer. "Yeah. She's a crazy bitch."

She smirks and shakes her head. There it is. She doesn't have to say it, strike three looking. Right down the middle of the fucking plate.

I watch the door close behind her. Damn It. How? When did that go wrong? It's not like I've never been rejected before, but not by anyone I tried so hard to impress. No matter what I said or did, it didn't work, and I don't understand why.

I'm moving, but it's like I have no control over my body. My feet carry me over to the counter.

"Hey, buddy," I call to the guy that helped the blonde. "Tell me everything you know about her," I say pulling a fifty out of my wallet.

The kid's stare falls to the money before meeting my eyes again. He gives a slight shake of his head. I can see although uncomfortable, he's considering it. I need to up the ante without showing him how desperate for the information I really am. I pull the fifty back and place a hundred dollar bill on the counter between us. With my hand still on it, I try to ease his conscious so he'll help me.

"I don't want to hurt her. I just want to see her again. And while she might not realize it yet, she wants to see me, too. So how about I ask a few questions. Nothing too hard or personal. You just give me the answers. That's all. You don't have to volunteer anything more."

His eyes are glued to the cash. His minimum wage ass probably doesn't see this much working two weeks in this place. Hesitantly he nods. Score one point for me.

"How long have you been working here?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, like three months."

"How many days a week do you work?"

"Four," he says, his eyes shifting around the shop.

"See, easy." I smile and hope he's relaxing a little. "This isn't her first time here is it?"

"No."

"Do you know her name?"

He shakes his head, but I can tell the way his eyes shift he's lying.

"Is she a regular? I mean does she come in every day? Every night? Every Saturday?"

He shrugs. "She comes when she comes." Great, I'm dealing with a fucking brainiac. This is his way of reneging on the deal. That's fine, I won't give him one red cent. I let out a long, exaggerated breath hoping he picks up on my frustration. "What I mean is, there's no pattern from what I can see. But I'm not here all the time."

"Look, I can tell you're nervous, and I like the fact that you don't want to divulge too much about her, but I'm not looking to hurt her. I just want to talk to her again."

"Sorry, that's all I know."

With a dark stare, I pass the money to him, "This conversation never happened. Got it?"

He nods before I turn to leave.

"Wait," he calls after me. I stop and look back at him.

"You just want to talk?"

I nod. "That's all."

He groans before continuing. "When she does come, at least when I've seen her here, it's on the weekends. Not both days, but she's usually here at least one of them. And usually around the same time."

"Great."

It's not much, but it's something to go on. At least I know if I want to give myself a challenge this is the place for it.

*

Two weeks pass before she walks back into the coffee shop. I've spoken to Teddy, the kid I paid off, a few times in between. He claims he hasn't seen her. I believe him, because every time he sees me the color drains from his face and I swear he looks like he's going to shit his pants.

Sitting at a table in the corner, drinking my coffee, I look up when the door to the shop opens. A funny feeling fills my chest as I recognize her. Something strange happens to my pulse rate. It's lust, I tell myself as I soak her in. Just a healthy dose of I-want-to-fuck-her-ness.

Her face is red and sweaty, I notice a wet patch on her shirt starting at her neck line, dipping down into the valley between her tits. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail, and I'm guessing she just finished a work out. She looks even sexier than the first time I saw her. I swear the words "fuck me hard," are oozing out of her pores and shooting straight to my dick.

She doesn't notice me. That's cool. I actually prefer it this way. It means I have the element of surprise on my side. Good thing Teddy's here. He looks in my direction as soon as he spots her. I motion for him to add her order to my tab. That's the way this shit's been working. I've been running a damn coffee tab when I'm here waiting to see if she'll grace us with her presence. Fucking pathetic. When did I become such a pussy? The day she shot my sorry ass down.

By the time he hands her the coffee, I'm next to her.

"Think you can spare ten minutes?" I ask getting deep into her personal space.

She narrows her blue eyes as she looks at me. "You again?"

"That's right." I flash her a smile. "Since I paid for your coffee, it's a date, whether you like it or not."

"You did not. How much?" She asks my new best friend Teddy.

"Sorry," he shrugs. "It's on him." He motions to me.

"Is that so?"

I smirk at her, with my arms crossed over my chest, enjoying the look on her face. "See, like I said, a date."

She looks around us and asks in a mocking tone, "This is your idea of a date?"

"I'll take what I can get, and since this is the only place I can get some face time with you, this has to do."

"Listen. Cooper, was it?"

"You remember. I must have made an impression."

"Too bad it's not a good one."

"Come on now, you mean to tell me you haven't thought about me at all?" I hold her stare and lean forward a tiny bit, hoping she picks up on my silent invitation for her to touch me. "You didn't wonder about me? Not one little bit?" I smirk letting her know I think she's full of shit.

She shakes her head.

"You didn't leave here and consider the possibility that you made a terrible mistake not giving me a chance? You haven't crawled into bed one night since, closed your eyes, and imagined my hands on your body? Or what kissing me would be like? Not even for a split second?"

"Not at all," she says then quickly darts her eyes off to the side. She's lying. I want to call bullshit, but I don't think that will help me win her over.

"Then I have to admit that I'm disappointed, I'd even go so far as to say I'm borderline crushed, because I thought about you a whole lot." I stand to my full height, inching even closer to her, so that she's forced to look up into my eyes. "I pictured your face at the end of the day, and those soft, beautiful lips." I reach out and pull my thumb across her bottom lip. She doesn't pull away or slap my hand. She takes a slow deep breath. I've got the reaction I wanted. Her mind is racing with images of us. I need to keep them coming.

"I've wondered if you could script it, what would your perfect kiss be like? Would you want me to stare into your eyes, and pull you close?" My hand curls around her hip and I'm subtly bringing her close to me, just like I'm describing. "Would you want our lips to meet and move slow and tender? Or do you like the hard, hungry kisses that invite desperate touching and pawing?" Her lips part slightly. The red color of her face deepens. She wants me damn it. I just hope she's not too proud to admit it.

"But if you're sure thoughts like that haven't crossed your mind at all since we last saw each other then, I guess I was wrong." I let my hand slip from her as I force myself to pull back and inch away. "Wrong about you. About how perfect you'd feel in my arms. It makes me wonder what other things I might be wrong about. Are you really a Shatter My World Doll? or is it more like a Stick A Knife In My Heart Cutie?" I'm further away than I want to be, and she doesn't look like she gives a shit. Fuck.

I keep backing up toward my table until I'm halfway across the small coffee shop. She's not saying anything, not responding. I need to find enough words to fill the space until she tells me to stop. I talk, and keep talking.

"If you're not the least bit curious, then I'll make it up to you right now by walking away. I'll just walk out that door, and smother the burning attraction I feel for you that has me obsessed, and wondering everything about you. And don't worry, I won't bother you. I won't show up here anymore. In fact even if chance pulls us together unexpectedly, I'll make it my business to stay away and make sure you don't ever see me again."

I turn calling her bluff, hoping like hell she'll make a move to stop me. I pick my book up off my table in the corner, still waiting. Still hoping. Without even glancing in her direction, I head straight for the door. I keep my eyes forward, willing her to call out to me, to stop me. I can't let her know how fucking crushed I am at this very moment that she's about to let me walk away, and out of her life.

"Alright." She makes a sound like she's sucking her teeth, and looks even more annoyed. "Fine. I have a few minutes to talk."

I turn back and gesture toward her, book in hand, giving her a taste of her disinterested attitude. "No. It's fine. I wouldn't want to put you out or anything. I guess I'm the only one struck by Cupid's arrow, and you shouldn't have to suffer because of it."

"Would you please stop." A hint of a smile plays at her lips.

"Please, don't feel obligated to do anything on my behalf." It's working. She's advancing toward me. "This unyielding attraction I have for you, that blinds me to the rest of the world, it's my cross to bear, and mine alone."

She laughs, and that sound has my insides melting like an ice over a flame. I don't realize that I'm staring at her with a dumb smile on my face until she speaks.

"What?"

"That sound."

"What sound?" She asks looking around her for the thing that's making me smile.

"Your laugh. It's beautiful. Just like you."

Her face betrays her surprise. "You know, Cooper. I believe that's the first honest thing you've said to me."

I shake my head in disagreement. "Everything I just said is true. I have thought about you non-stop since you walked out that door. I have wondered how you like to be kissed so when it happens, because make no mistake it's going to happen, it'll be perfect. And I do want to know everything there is to know about you."

She looks away.

"Here's my phone." I hold it out to her, terrified of the words coming out of my mouth, but I can't stop them. It's like there's no connection between my brain and my mouth. If I thought the whole situation with Madeline/ Madison was bad, why the fuck am I inviting more trouble with this one?

"Call yourself so you have my number, look through my pictures. Whatever you want."

"You knew you were hoping to see me. You could've bought yourself a new phone."

"Why would I go through so much trouble when you won't give me the time of day?"

Before she can answer. Before things can fall apart, my eyes shift away from the girl I'm dying to get with and fall onto a girl being wheeled into the coffee shop. She's young and beautiful. Probably late teens or early twenties. Her eyes are filled with tears.

Something about her yanks on my heartstrings, and I can't help but stare. Her hair is so dark against her pale skin, and her eyes are such a pretty blue. Her face wrestles me into to the past. She's a living ghost. Luna. I know it's not her. It can't be her, but the sadness this girl's face holds, reminds me so much of Luna. And that is the last person I need to be thinking of right now.

Ever.

The woman pushing the wheelchair, who I'm guessing is the girl's mother, bends down to speak to her. I'm statue-still watching these strangers.

"Are you okay?" I hear close to my ear. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

The voice comes from the woman standing next to me whose name I still don't know. The woman that up until five seconds ago I almost had convinced to spend some time with me. Now she's fallen into the background. So much so, I vaguely hear her. I can't focus on her or the words coming out of her mouth. I'm unable to peel my eyes off of the other girl that entered the shop. I watch and listen to the interaction in front of me.

"What do you want, honey?"

The girl looks away from her mother. She looks around the mostly empty coffee shop, locks her eyes on me, and stares. I don't know why she doesn't tear them away, it's as if she recognizes that I'm broken inside. Just like her.

"I want to die."

"Sweetheart, I know today was rough, but you're making progress. It's going to take time."

"Today was rough?" She squeals and I hear the angst in her voice. I wince internally because no one should have to burden that much pain. "The last six months have been rough, and I still can't walk. I hate this thing." She bangs her palm down on the arm of the chair. "I hate my life. I don't want to live like this. Why can't you just let me die?"

"Oh, hell no!" Without thinking I hand the girl I've been talking to the book in my hand, push past her and advance toward this poor broken soul. I know I don't have anything to offer her. Not one thing. Not one reason why she should stick it out and fight, but I have to go to her. Maybe I could make this moment better. If I can make her smile right now, five minutes from now might not feel so empty and bad.

"I'll be right back," the mother says sniffling as she heads to the bathroom.

Way to guilt your daughter into submission. At least she's leaving an opening for me. Perfect, I think as I stride over to the girl in the chair. She looks so small and fragile with her eyes downcast staring at her hands in her lap. Game face on, I bend down in front of her. Her head slowly moves up and I find myself staring into her eyes.

"Why are you here?" She snaps. "Do you really want to make me feel worse and more useless just so you and your girlfriend can have a good laugh?"

I shake my head and look at her through my lashes, I give her half a smile. It's the one the girls swoon over. "I just came to check out your wheels. They look awesome."

"Nice, mock the crippled, loser girl. Asshole."

I bring my face closer to hers so that we're almost nose to nose, and turn serious. "First of all, I don't waste my time with losers. Second of all, I don't take kindly to being called names, and third of all, what this all tells me is, you don't know how to have fun."

"What the hell do you find fun about not being able to walk?"

"Let me show you." I reach for her hands and place them around my neck. Now hold on tight, and no matter what, don't let go."

She shrieks as I pull her up and sweep her into my arms. "For starters, I can take you for the ride of your life." I sit down and settle her on my lap.

"Oh my God! You're crazy."

She looks horrified, but she's still holding on.

"Can you get the door for us? I'm going to need a little more room," I ask the girl I've ignored since this delicate creature entered the coffee shop. She doesn't answer, doesn't move as she looks on nervous and confused. "Fine, I'll do It myself." I huff as I use my forearms to power the wheels toward the door. I need to get this girl out of here quick, before her mother can stop me.

"No, no, no. I got it."

I stop for a brief moment to thank her before turning my attention back to the girl on my lap and getting us out the front door of the coffee shop.

"You have a good grip?"

She nods.

"Good. Here we go."

I push us along on the sidewalk picking up speed. When I think I'm going fast enough, I quickly jerk the wheels in the opposite direction and shift my weight, lifting the front of the chair into the air. She shrieks at first, and hides her face in the crook of my neck as if she's afraid. Her squeals quickly turn to laughter as we spin around in a circle.

"See," I say. "Fun."

"Laura!" A woman's voice rings out loud and frightened. "Oh. My. God. Laura! "

I stop turning the chair and hold the girl close to me allowing the small front wheels to meet the ground again.

"Laura? That's your name?"

She nods with the hint of a smile. Of course it is. Karma's idea of a practical joke. Karma's not just a bitch, she a mega-bitch.

"Well, listen, Laura. It sucks to have limitations, but you can't give up. You can't ever give up."

It's all I can get out before Laura's mother is in my face screaming while I do my best to tune her out.

". . . . permanent damage . . . have you arrested."

I'm prepared to fight whatever her mother wants to throw my way, but Laura's response stuns me. Before I have a chance to tell this old bag to fuck off, Laura stands up to her. Seems like my plan to add a little fight back into the girl's spirit worked. She's ready to brawl.

"I asked him to."

"I don't believe that. He's a stranger. You don't even know him."

"Wrong. He was a therapist in the hospital."

"Then why don't I know him?"

"He used to come work with me at night after visiting hours."

I look on, listening with interest, not only in where this conversation is headed, but in trying to understand the role I'm supposed to play. Her mother looks between us. I can see she doesn't believe her daughter, but she isn't calling Laura's bluff. Yet.

"I hope nothing inappropriate went on when I wasn't there. She was underage at the time. You can go to jail you know."

"SHUT UP!" Laura shouts. I can tell just from the little interaction between these two, Laura's problem isn't her legs, it's her mother. Seems Laura and I have a lot in common. "You need to back off. There's nothing inappropriate, nothing dirty about what we just did. He made me laugh. That's all. For the first time in half a year I had thirty seconds of fun until you ruined it. Just like you ruin everything."

Her mother can't hide the bite of her daughter's words.

"Hey," I pull Laura's attention back to myself. "Here's what I want you to remember. Even though things might suck right now, you're life isn't over. It's still possible to have fun. You just can't give up. Ever. Understand?"