Текст книги "Sweet Obsession "

Автор книги: J. Daniels

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

She sucks at her bottom lip as she thinks it over, her gaze flicking between my eyes and my mouth. With a soft grunt, she pushes off from the brick and snatches the carrier out of my hand. Her feet quickly carry her away from me.

The hell?

“Is that a yes?” I call out, turning my head to watch her.

“I don’t know.” She gives me a playful smile over her shoulder. “Is it?”

A laugh rumbles in my chest.

Little devil. Do you think that answer will satisfy me?

I sag against the brick after she disappears around the corner. My head falls forward. I look down at the erection pleating the front of my shorts.

“Fucking persistent bastard, aren’t ya?”

I adjust my cock and get out of the alley, heading back in the direction of the coffee shop.

BROOKE

Okay. Okay okay okay.

That was just a kiss. A kiss, Brooke. Stop walking like you just had your vagina smashed.

Pushing my shoulders back, I continue down the sidewalk with the coffee carrier, losing the obnoxious spring in my step. It’s hard not to bounce a little. My skin feels like it’s vibrating. A continuous pulse moving over my flesh, sending a delicious shiver up my spine and down my limbs.

Darting my tongue out, I taste my bottom lip.

It’s swollen, sensitive from Mason’s assault. Or mine. I wasn’t gentle when I kissed him back. I went at him like a woman deprived, which is exactly how I should still be feeling, only . . .

That was, hands-down, the best kiss of my life.

It wasn’t just the way he worked his mouth, it was the filth spilling out of it. The soft murmurs against my skin about how he could fuck me. How he wanted to, only . . .

He wants more than that. More than a hard fuck in an alley.

Feelings and knowing each other.

More.

My head grows heavy. Am I seriously contemplating this request?

After the way things ended last night, I was dead-set on waving bye-bye to the prospect of Mason and jumping on the next willing and available dick. No man has ever turned me down before. Ever. Definitely not one where we’re both already naked and his cock is at full mast. But Mason . . . he refused me. Straight up, with my tits out and everything. I was angry and confused. Hurt. God, I didn’t want to admit that, but I was. I wanted him. He obviously wanted me. I drove home like a mad-woman on a rampage.

A mad, horny woman on a rampage.

That problem was handled immediately.

After experiencing one of the quickest, most satisfying orgasms of my life, go figure, I gave into the enticing idea of sleep, but tossed around most of the night.

Again, I was baffled. Who passes on this kind of opportunity?

It’s not as if I’ve never been pursued by the men I’ve slept with for the prospect of more. Take clingy Paul, for example. He definitely didn’t want me to dine and ditch his ass the other night. But cases like that have always transpired in the aftermath of sex, not before.

Never before.

Who is this guy?

I empty my mind of that question, of the kiss I shouldn’t be obsessing over as I step inside the bakery.

The chime rings out through the small space.

Joey and Dylan are talking closely behind the counter. Whispering, in fact. They both glance up at the sound of my entrance.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Joey practically sings.

I barely glance in his direction. He’s way too cheery for me right now.

“Hey. They’ve stopped serving that caramel ribbon crunch you like so I got you a macchiato instead. I hope that’s okay.” I set the carrier on the display case and look up at Dylan.

Please be okay. I don’t feel like walking back there.

A soft smile pulls at her mouth as she steps closer. “That’s okay. That’s okay. I’ll drink caramel anything, sweetie. Thank you.”

My brow pinches together in response to the strange tone in her voice, to the nickname.

Sweetie?

“Why do you sound like that? Did someone die?” I ask, looking down at her outfit. Shouldn’t she be in all black? Who wears pastels when they’re in mourning?

Dylan plucks her coffee from the carrier. “No. And how do I sound?”

“Like someone died.”

Joey makes an amused sound in the back of his throat as he reaches for his coffee.

“Nobody died. I heard about last night,” Dylan confesses, leaning her hip against the counter. She looks tragically sorry for me. “All about it. Are you okay? That must’ve been crazy awkward.”

Oh, terrific. That’s why they were whispering.

I glare at Joey, who simply blows me a kiss before taking a sip of his coffee.

Bitch.

I take in a deep breath. “I’m fine,” I tell her, which isn’t necessarily a lie. If she would’ve asked me that question last night or any time before my interaction with Mason this morning, then I’d be lying.

Joey lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re fine? You devoured half a cheesecake last night, Brooke.”

I wince at the memory.

God, I seriously need to get a handle on my sweets consumption during moments of distress. Or, at least eat them discreetly. I publicly tore up that cheesecake like it owed me money.

Shrugging off my pathetic behavior, I grab my coffee and take a sip. “I was hungry. I didn’t have much for dinner. And really, last night wasn’t a big deal. I’m over him.”

I was unfortunately never even under him.

“Oh, well that’s good to know, since there’s a chance he’s about to walk right in here.”

“What?” My head snaps in Dylan’s direction, then toward the front of the shop.

My eyes go round. Mason walks past the large window and reaches for the door. The grip on my coffee tightens.

What the hell is he doing?

“This should be interesting,” Joey murmurs as the chime sounds overhead.

I swallow uncomfortably, nearly choking on my own saliva.

Mason steps inside the shop, his hand now carrying the coffee he obviously went back for. He levels me with a perfectly casual smile, as if he didn’t just have his tongue in my mouth five minutes ago, then immediately notices the other two bodies in the room.

“Ah, it’s good to see ya again, mate. Didn’t catch your name yesterday.”

Joey takes Mason’s hand into a firm shake. “Yeah, you seemed a tad bit distracted with the chick next to me.” He shoots me a quick, cheeky glance, then turns back and jerks his chin. “It’s Joey.”

I smooth down the front of my shirt as the three of them exchange introductions. My cleavage pops out another inch. Completely accidental and not at all done for his benefit.

Mm. Maybe he’ll notice tomorrow when he stops chatting up my friends.

Mason gestures at Dylan’s belly. “When are you due?”

“A month. I’m hoping for sooner though. I’m so sick with this one.”

“This one? Don’t tell me you have more than one already. You look too young to be a mum.”

“Ha!” Dylan’s face lights up. Her hands form to her belly. “Oh, my God. You just became my second favorite male.”

Joey whips his head to the left, his eyes wide with alarm. “Second favorite? Excuse you?”

I cough into my fist, breaking up the gab fest I’m in no way a part of. Three pairs of eyes train on me as I slowly retreat toward the kitchen.

“I guess I’ll just go get to work, since there’s apparently no need for me to hang around up here.”

Mason’s mouth pulls down.

I quickly regret my half-serious remark as his noticeable remorse tenses up his features.

God, why do I even care? And am I seriously irritated that he’s taking a moment to be polite? What is wrong with me?

He takes a few steps in my direction. I halt at the corner of the display case.

Dylan pushes against Joey’s shoulder, urging him to walk. “Come on. I need your help with something in the back.”

“You never need my help,” he snaps, then smiles back at her before the two of them slip into the kitchen, leaving Mason and I alone.

I move my coffee to my other hand. I’m suddenly feeling restless and too hot to drink such a warm beverage.

Mason gives me a lazy smile as he slowly advances. “Little devil. You ran off.”

My feet shift underneath me.

Jesus, his voice. Like honey coating the back of his throat. Sweet and warm. His words slow to leave his tongue.

I force my mouth to close.

Oh, my God. How long was it gaped open for?

Barrier. I need a barrier.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask, swiftly moving behind the display case. I set my coffee on the back table and fold my hands neatly on the glass. “Your stalker level is quickly rising, you know. First the coffee shop, now you’re coming to my place of business. Should I alert the authorities yet?”

Mason cocks his head with a curious smirk, then moves to stand directly across from me. “Wait until I find out where you live.”

“What?”

He chuckles. “Relax, gorgeous. I’ll keep it professional, yeah? No house calls until you invite me.”

“Mm.” I cross my arms under my chest. “Don’t hold your breath on that happening.”

He smiles, then tips his cup back, taking a long swig of his coffee. His eyes never leave mine.

To keep myself from staring back like a hungry little fiend, I grab a bakery box and open the display case. My hand closes around a pastry.

He leans over, head tilting down to watch me. “You look cute back there, ready for work. How long have you been doing this?”

“A few years,” I answer, not looking up. “It started out as something temporary. I needed a job after getting fired from my old one and Dylan needed an extra hand during wedding season. I honestly wasn’t expecting to like it as much as I did. But almost immediately everything just seemed to click. I love the artistic side of it. The design process. How everything comes together. I don’t know. It’s not like I’m curing cancer or anything, but cupcakes seem to make people happy. I think happiness is therapeutic.”

I straighten with the box and set it on the case. Lifting my head, I lock onto Mason’s gentle stare.

“What?” I ask.

After a beat, he softly replies. “Nothing.” He leans forward and looks down into the box. “What’s this?”

“Um, it’s,” I shove the box closer to him. “It’s pastries I made. Here. And a cupcake for later. Red velvet. The icing is amazing.”

He studies the contents as if I’ve just offered him the greatest gift in the world. I remember him having this same look when I gave him the treats the other day outside his studio.

Maybe he really likes dessert. Maybe it’s a delicacy over in Australia.

Setting his coffee down, he fits the box between his hands, then lifts his head. His eyes appear darker under the bakery lights. “You never gave me an answer. I need an answer, Brooke.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll go bloody crazy if you don’t give me one.”

“Bloody crazy? Not just regular crazy? I’m picturing a massacre.”

He shrugs. “Say yes and no one gets hurt.”

I laugh, reaching up and pushing my hair behind my ear. “Wow. First stalking, now you’re threatening murder? You better be careful, pretty boy. I’m not so sure how you’d hold up in prison.”

He stares at me. The corner of his mouth lifts. “What are you doing tonight?”

Joey emerges from the back at that exact moment. I’m certain the queen of gossip was listening to every word of this conversation. If it was anyone else, I’d take his timing as purely coincidental.

“She’ll be at The Tavern with a bunch of us after we close up here. It’s a little bar we like to frequent. You should come. I’m sure they carry Fosters.”

I narrow my eyes at Joey as he comes to stand beside me. He gives me his biggest smile.

“Yeah, I don’t drink Fosters, mate. Not a lot of us do.”

“Really?” Joey turns to Mason with a hand to his chin, scratching along his stubble. He looks deeply perplexed. “Well, don’t I feel like the world’s biggest ass.”

Mason grabs his coffee and the bakery box. “No worries. You can buy me a round tonight to make up for that little blunder.” He trains his eyes on me, stepping back. “And you. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Damn it. I try, really, really try not to smile, but he throws on that damn ‘yeah’ at the end of his sentence, and I can’t help it. It’s cute. I like it.

Luckily, I don’t give him the chance to see it.

I duck down behind the counter, looking busy. “Mm. Yeah, all right. See ya,” I call out as I stare at the gray speckled tile on the floor.

The door chimes. Joey crouches down beside me.

“What the hell are you doing?” he whispers, searching my face.

“Working.”

He glances around the tiny corner I’m tucked into. “Yeah, okay. What was all that talk about giving him an answer? An answer to what? Did you not tell me something last night?”

I straighten and shove past him, moving into the kitchen. “You are lucky I tell you anything, Joey McDermott.”

Snatching my apron off the hook, I join Dylan at the worktop.

My mind begins cataloging possible outfits for tonight. I’ll definitely be wearing heels, that’s for sure. Mason seems strangely intrigued by our height difference.

Maybe he normally dates taller women?

Oh, my God. Why am I even thinking about what kind of women he dates? That damn kiss has left me stupid.

Joey claims one of the stools, pouting. “Brooke is holding out on us, Dylan. Can you please explain to her that there are no secrets within these walls?”

Dylan keeps her eyes on the frosting she is piping, flatly replying, “Brooke, you know the drill.”

I secure the apron string around my waist, ignoring them both.

Screw that. I don’t need to divulge anything.

Joey slaps the wood, then stands. “Fine. I’ll just go ask Mason myself.”

I grip his forearm. “Heyyy, that’s . . . not necessary. I’m sure he’s busy.” I press against his shoulder until he’s seated again, then I start to pace around the room, suddenly no longer able to stand still. My palms begin to sweat.

Damn it. I’m about to recollect this morning, that goddamn kiss.

“Uh, okay, so, you know everything that happened last night. Nothing new to report there. I was getting our coffees and Mason walked in, looking all . . . whatever. You saw him. He explained to me in a very private alley a few blocks down that he wants more with me. Like talking, and . . . dates, I guess, before all the sex stuff. He wants to know me first. How crazy is that?”

I chuckle awkwardly. Everyone else remains silent.

Crickets. All of a sudden, I’m surrounded by crickets.

I do another lap around the room. “So, that’s basically it. He asked me if I can give him that. More. I didn’t really answer. I mean, I kind of did. Not really. Oh, and he kissed me. On the mouth.”

“As opposed to . . .”

I snap my head up to look at Joey, then drop it into a quick nod. “Right. That’s it. That’s all that happened.”

Dylan sets her piping bag down. “I take it the kiss was good? You seem a bit wound up.”

Good?

No. It was fucking phenomenal.

I limply shrug as I grab two baking racks off the shelf.

I’ve confessed enough sins today. They don’t need to know how wet I got from fifteen seconds of making out.

“I like him,” Joey beams, resting his chin on his hand.

“Me too,” Dylan smiles at me. “Brooke?”

I set the racks on the worktop. My next words come as I keep my head down and my hands busy. “You know what I like? Working. Getting a paycheck. Orgasms are also nice, which I doubt come with liking this guy, so, no. I don’t like him. How many special orders do we have today? Three? We need to get started. I need to get started. And God, I need to eat something before I collapse.”

I shuffle up to the front and murder a cupcake.

Brown sugar praline. It never stands a chance.

I’m the last one to arrive at The Tavern later that night. I decide to blame my lateness on the traffic, not the forty-plus minutes I spend getting ready, or the pacing I do around Billy and Joey’s condo.

“Traffic? What traffic? It’s not rush-hour.”

My sister Juls quickly calls me out on my lie after I explain my tardiness. I pretend I don’t hear her as I slowly sip my Long Island and gage the crowd. Imagine Dragons pumps through the speakers overhead. My foot taps along to the beat.

Ian returns with a few beers for the table. “Two dollar beers. I fucking love college night.”

Reese reaches for his mug, his other arm permanently fixated around Dylan. “Don’t you feel old being here with this crowd? I feel like everyone’s looking at me like I’m a chaperone.” He tugs at the knot in his tie, loosening it.

Joey chuckles. “Uh, no. They’re looking at you ‘cause you’re a DILF.”

Reese frowns. “A what?”

“A DILF.” Dylan rests her head on his shoulder, grinning. “Dad I’d like to fuck.”

“Get the hell out of here,” he mutters, lifting his beer to his mouth.

“You’re sexy, Reese. Own it.” Joey holds up his mug. “You know who else is sexy?” He quickly kisses Billy. “Besides my baby.”

I swirl my straw around in my glass. A group of women giggle obnoxiously at the next table. One of them nearly falls off her stool.

The drinks must be flowing over there.

“Brooke.”

My eyes lift to Joey’s. “What?”

“I asked a question.”

“So?”

He gapes at me, then sweeps a hand in front of him. “So . . . would you like to let the table know who you think is sexy? Everyone is dying to hear what you have to say.”

Jesus. He is laying it on thick tonight.

I stand and smooth the hem of my dress down. No need to partake in this conversation.

“Me. I think I’m sexy as hell.” I blow Joey a kiss. “Be back. I’m going to hit up the ladies’.”

Joey rolls his eyes, mumbling something under his breath before he turns to Billy and engages him in conversation. I move past them, heading for the crowd I need to get through to reach the restrooms.

“Nice shoes, Brooke. Am I going to be getting those back any time soon?” Dylan’s voice at my back halts me.

I spin around, glancing down at the pink Steve Madden’s I have yet to return. They work amazing with this dress. With my legs. In all honestly, it would’ve been a tragedy not to wear them.

Lifting my head, I limply shrug. “I figured I’d break them in for you since your feet are too swollen to wear heels right now.”

Dylan’s face falls. She glances down at the black strappy sandals on her feet, grumbling, “I’m so over being pregnant.” She whips her head around. “This is it, Reese. Three and we’re done. No more kids.”

Reese leans back to look at her, a deep frown line setting in his forehead. “What? I thought we had agreed on four. What happened to that?”

The look that creeps across Dylan’s face has my feet firmly planted where they are, willing to stick around for another minute. It also seems to pull everyone else’s attention across the table.

Juls with her wide, curious eyes as she slowly brings her drink to her mouth. Joey, grinning enormously, drumming his fingers on the table and practically crawling across it to get a better view. Billy and Ian both take another route and reach into their pockets for their phones, deciding it’s best they look busy and uninterested in Reese’s potential demise.

I bet everyone seated at this table has had this ‘don’t fuck with me’ look directed at them at one point. I know I’m familiar with it. Back when I first started working at the bakery I saw this look quite a lot.

And Reese? His ass has definitely seen it.

Turning on his stool, Reese gently smiles at Dylan before moving in for a kiss. “Love.”

She pushes against his chest. “I’m sorry, are you the one carrying a watermelon around twenty-four seven? Are you giving up sushi and fantastic fucking footwear for nine months? Mm? No, you’re not. You can eat what you want, you aren’t bloated and sweaty all the time, and your downstairs region isn’t going to be pushing out a human. I’ve been pregnant for the last four years. Four years, Reese. Do you have any idea how exhausting this is for me? I got up eleven times last night just to go to the bathroom. Did you know that?”

He caresses her face. “I only counted six.”

Through clenched teeth, she leans closer, grunting, “It was a hell of a lot more than six. Maybe I should start waking you up every time, that way you can experience some of this misery with me.”

“You can do that.”

“Ugh!” She bats his hand away. “Would you stop being you for five seconds? It’s making me want to have another kid.”

Laughing, Reese grabs her face and kisses her. Dylan seems to melt against him, letting go of her anger, maybe even her conviction on the subject. They break away from each other enough to breathe, but keep their foreheads pressed together, Reese’s hands cradling Dylan’s face and hers holding his wrists. Their eyes remain locked as if they’re sharing this silent moment, conveying unspoken words, and I take that as my cue and remember why the hell I got up in the first place.

I melt into the crowd and push my way to the back hallway. The restroom is cramped and smells like a cross between the fragrance department at Macy’s and an ashtray. My nose burns as I apply a light sheen of gloss to my lips.

God, I hate cigarette smoke. Can’t these bitches here read? There’s a no-smoking sign posted every ten feet.

Tugging the material of my dress away from my body in hopes it’ll air it out a little, I drift through the bar, making my way back to my friends. A tall figure standing next to the table halts my progression.

Mason has his hand on the back of my chair as he converses with the group. His dirty blond hair is carelessly tousled, maybe a bit wet. I can’t tell from this distance. He wears a fitted blue T-shirt and jeans, and as he reaches across the table to extend his hand to Reese, the material stretches over his ass and lean thighs. A hint of flesh peeks out from above his waistband.

Fuck. Okay, he’s here. He’s here, and he looks like that.

Change of plans.

I cut a hard left through the crowd and grab a stool at the bar.

No way am I going to sit at that table with seven pairs of eyes on me like I’m some sort of freak-show exhibit. Joey is clearly already on a mission to embarrass me tonight, and I haven’t had nearly enough alcohol to tolerate his obnoxiousness yet.

I wave over the bartender. “Give me something. Not beer. Something . . . girly. Or wine. I don’t care. Surprise me.”

The older man smiles, then turns and grabs a glass.

I set my clutch on the wood, fiddling with the contents. Phone, cash, keys, license, lip gloss. A warm body presses against my back.

“Little devil. You’re hard to find.”

A shiver runs through me as his breath moves against my hair. I turn my head, then tilt it back.

Mason moves to stand beside me. I fight the urge to grab his face and molest him.

It’s a struggle.

I wet my lips. “Hey, hi. Did you just get here?”

Obviously, I already know the answer to this question. Way to act like you haven’t been watching for him, Brooke.

He smiles and slowly sinks onto the stool next to me. “I did. Class ran over a bit. I had to shower, find the place. Why are you over here and not with your mates?”

I risk a glance in their direction.

Juls waves. Dylan smiles from her seat.

Oh, my God. Is Joey seriously videoing this with his phone?

“It was a bit crowded.” I swivel on my stool so that Mason’s body completely shields mine. “And I was trying to avoid this guy who has a tendency to stalk. You might know him. He’s Australian too.”

He pulls his shoulders back and looks around the bar. “Yeah? Point this wanker out. I’ll take care of him. Unless he’s a big fella. If that’s the case, I’ll sneak you out the back.”

I laugh as the bartender sets my glass down in front of me.

It’s a tall, skinny beverage. Something blended, with red and white slush swirling together and a pineapple wedge tucked on the rim.

“That’s fancy lookin’.”

I nod at Mason’s observation as my hand closes around the chilled glass. I take a sip. Very tropical.

“So, was the turn-out for class today as ridiculous as last night?”

“You thought it was ridiculous?” His mouth pulls tight. He looks adorably puzzled.

“Women were lined up outside like you were handing out free orgasms.” I give him a cheeky grin. “Clearly, you weren’t. Unless that service was offered to everyone except me.”

His face softens with a smile. “Nah, that’s the Brooke special. It comes with dinners and private lessons. Spending time together. Friendship.”

“Friendship? You want to be my friend?”

“Yeah.”

“And you want to sleep with me?”

“I want everything,” he states negligently. “Friendship is a part of it. Why wouldn’t it be?”

I shrug. My eyes fixate on the bar.

This glorious specimen of a man also wants a friendship out of this. How . . . strange.

“Are you drinking?” I ask, desperate for a subject change.

Feelings. Friendship. More.

He needs alcohol.

I glance back up to catch the quick shake of his head.

“I’m all right.”

“You came to a bar and you’re not going to drink?”

He stares at me, his eyes slowly moving over my face, then down the line of my body. “You look lovely, Brooke. Stunning, really. Has any man told you that today?”

“Um . . .” I inhale a shaky breath. “Today? No. Not today.”

“Shame. I should’ve said something earlier. I was thinking it. In the alley . . . when I came to your work. I couldn’t stop looking at you. I still can’t.”

“In the alley.” I clear my throat. Hair clings to the base of my neck. I’m burning up. “I liked the alley.”

God, I loved the alley.

Mason eyes me for a moment, then reaches out and takes the drink out of my hand. He sets it on the bar and stands, pulling out his wallet. “Go for a ride with me, yeah? I’ll bring you back here. I just . . . I want to talk to you and drive around the city. I’ve been thinking about doing that.” He throws some cash down, tucks his wallet back into his pocket, and grabs my hand.

With a gentle tug, I’m on my feet.

“You’re taller tonight,” he observes, smiling down at my shoes. “I recognize those.”

I grab my clutch off the bar. “And you’re a bit bossy.”

His brow pulls together. He looks charmingly confused.

I fight the urge to smile as I explain. “I never agreed to go for a ride with you. You did that adorable little ‘yeah’ thing and took my drink away. Were you even going to wait for my answer? Maybe I’m not ready to leave. Maybe I want to finish my very coconuty drink and spend some time with my mates. Ever think about that?”

I think he wants to smile. I believe I see a slight twitch in his mouth, but he covers it immediately, or I’m simply imagining things.

Am I not as funny as I think I am?

“I’m sorry.” He drops my hand. His eyes roam the room. “Right. That was a bit bossy of me. Would you rather we stay here? I thought a drive would be nice. I’ll be able to hear you better. I’d like to hear you.”

A strange tightness pulls at my chest.

Shit. Even in his high-handedness, his intentions are sweet.

“It’s fine. We can . . .”

A body bumps against my back. I brace myself with a hand to Mason’s chest to keep myself from falling. His grip holds tight on my waist, tighter as I slowly lift my head to look at him. I turn to get a glance at the creep who shoved me into this tall piece of manly deliciousness.

I should thank them.

Paul sways on his feet behind me. He’s clearly intoxicated.

Whatever. I don’t hold any ill-will toward any of the men I’ve slept with. I’m sure him knocking into me was purely accidental. No doubt brought on by the alcohol. Look at him. He can barely stand.

He grabs the bar to steady himself, grinning wildly. “Brooke! Funny . . . funny seeing you again, isn’t it? God, I really didn’t think that was you.”

He didn’t think that was me? I just saw him a few days ago. How drunk is this guy?

“Uh, yeah, it’s me. Small world.” I push against Mason’s chest. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Paul keeps going.

“I thought . . . nah, that’s not Brooke. No way! She should be hanging on a street corner.”

I whip my head around. “Excuse me.”

“A street corner.” Paul leans closer, tilting his head with a sneer. “You know. Like a whore.”

My body goes rigid. Mason tenses behind me.

Paul, you stupid fucking idiot. You asked for this.