Текст книги "Scoring Wilder"

Автор книги: R. S. Grey

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Thursday evening, I was standing in Liam's kitchen starting on dinner. Both of our moms had left the day before, and we were finally going to get some alone time. He was due home from practice any minute, which is why I was moving around the room like a madwoman

trying

to

get

everything

prepared.

I was making lasagna and a salad that my mom had given me the recipe for. My first idea had been to cover myself in rolls of sushi and let Liam eat them off of me, but Becca said she didn’t want to picture my naked ass every time she tried to order a Cali-fornia Roll. Some kind of friend she was. I threw some cranberries and walnuts on top of the salad, and then popped the lasagna 764/890

into the oven just as Liam opened his back door.

Show time.

I closed the oven and twisted around to spot him standing in the doorway. He’d showered after practice and was wearing worn jeans and a white t-shirt. I smiled down at my own wardrobe. I'd slipped on a pair of skinny jeans that I knew would drive him insane and a blue v-neck that was comfortable, but sexy.

His hair was still damp from the shower and he had one sexy brow arched at the sight before him.

"I'm preparing a feast," I announced with a flourish of my hand.

"I see that. It smells awesome," he complimented, dropping his workout bag and 765/890

keys on the table and continuing toward me.

"I like this sight as well."

"The mess?" I asked, gazing down at the cheese, pasta wrappers, and the cutting board with chopped up tomatoes and onions.

There was tomato sauce spilled on the counter as well. Had I managed to put anything actually in the damn lasagna?

He stepped closer still, coming to stand right behind me so he could wrap his arms around my waist.

"No. You in my house when I get home from practice," he answered, eliciting a wave of goose bumps.

"It was fun, like I was playing house in someone else's kitchen,” I shrugged. “I swear I'll clean all of this up."

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He chuckled and spun me around so that my back was to the counter. " We'll clean it up. What's in the oven?"

"A lasagna," I answered, feeling his lips briefly make contact with my neck. It was enough to elicit a soft moan.

"How long do we have until it’s done?"

I cocked a brow as his hand drifted beneath my shirt. "About an hour. I just put it in."

A seductive smile spread across his lips and I suddenly knew I was in trouble.

"Well, I've had almost a full week without getting to touch you and I'd like to make up for that," he said, lifting my shirt and skimming his hands upward, over my ribcage and breasts.

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I lifted my arms up over my head and cast him a devious smile as he pulled off my shirt and tossed it onto the kitchen table. His gaze drifted down to the swell of my breasts peeking out of my black bra and his eyes narrowed slightly at the sight before him. High five, Mrs. Victoria Secret.

I dropped my hands to undo his jeans and then I pushed them down his long toned legs. Everything about him was worthy of worship, but those soccer legs made my sexual prowess shine. I let my hands drift over his thighs and back up, watching as he hardened beneath his black boxer briefs.

He was every ounce of man, and as I scored over his body, I realized that I wanted to be completely taken by him. He tugged his shirt over his head and then reached down to 768/890

wrap his hands around my biceps, pulling me to my feet. I didn't have time to catch my footing before his hand was dipping down the front of my jeans. He unbuckled them and the zipper gave way as his finger sank in-to me. My mouth fell open, but no sounds escaped. He slowly withdrew his finger before sinking into me again.

"This is what I've been dreaming about all week," he murmured, dipping forward to steal a kiss. His lips were hungry and demanding; he possessed my mouth and I tried to keep up, but he overwhelmed my senses.

He kept sliding in and out of me, slowly at first but then picking up the pace. I felt myself crawling toward an orgasm just as his thumb started spinning soft circles. He had masterful hands and the pad of his thumb 769/890

might have been my favorite part of his entire body.

He withdrew his mouth from mine just as his fingers sped up their pace. He leaned back and watched my reactions to what he was doing like he was a voyeur. It felt sinfully sexy to have him watch me come. I licked my lips, trying to dampen the dry flesh, just as a shudder ran through me.

"Come for me, baby. Let me watch you."

My blue eyes met his grey stare and a spark caught fire inside of me. I came around his fingers, leaning back against the counter and moaning his name over and over again.

There was no time to recover. I was still feeling the echoes of the orgasm as he stripped off my jeans and panties and spun me around so that my hip bones met the 770/890

counter. He flicked off my bra and shoved everything on the counter aside so there was room for me.

"Holy," I whispered as I felt him push himself against my exposed flesh. I'd never had a man take me the way he did. He didn't ask for permission. When we were making love, exploring each other, my body belonged to him like he had the sole rights to it.

"Bend forward, baby.”

I gaped at his sexy command, but never-theless, I felt myself bending forward. The cold granite countertop pressed against my breasts, but I didn't shirk away from the slight sting. I was too busy concentrating on his fingers spreading my entrance and appreciating my beauty.

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He groaned behind me and then slid down onto his knees to lap me up with his tongue. I bit down on my bottom lip, but soft moans still escaped me. My fingers gripped the edge of the counter as he licked me slowly, dragging his tongue from the very base of my entrance all the way back up. He used his palms to spread my legs out even further, baring every ounce of my flesh for him. I thought my hands would break off the edge of the granite I was gripping down so hard.

"You are the fucking sexiest thing I've ever laid eyes on," he swore, leisurely stroking me up and down. I picked my head up off the counter and spun around to see him rubbing himself with one hand while exploring me with the other.

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God, I wanted that image burned into my memory forever.

"Have you ever been taken this way before?" he asked with a controlling stare. His words

were

dark,

but

they

sparked

something inside of me that needed to hear them. I loved his easy confidence. His absolute ownership of the situation.

I shook my head no and he dragged his gaze up to my eyes.

"Hold onto the counter," he instructed as he removed his boxer-briefs. He was hard and throbbing. I could remember exactly how he'd felt the last time we'd had sex: like my body couldn't decide if he was tearing me apart or building me back up. I didn't care. I needed him inside of me again or I'd scream.

Maybe I’d end up screaming either way.

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He unrolled a condom and then positioned himself back against me from behind.

One hand gripped my hip tightly, the other reached up and wrapped around my neck so that I couldn't turn away from him. I appreciated the support. My head started to feel heavy, but with his hand there I could watch him shove into me slowly at first, and then in one quick thrust, I felt all of him inside of me, spreading me open and crashing into my world.

"Oh my god, Liam," I moaned as he settled into me, not moving at first but letting me get accustomed to his size.

His eyes were dilated in lust and each of his features seemed even sharper and more in control than usual. His freshly shaven face 774/890

gave way to his strong jaw-line, his chiseled cheekbones, and his perfectly pouty lips.

He slowly withdrew and I shuddered. I could hardly catch my breath and the position he had me in wasn't helping. Then he thrust back into me, hard, and I cried out. It was pure bliss.

It was all the goading he needed. He tightened his hold on my waist and started pounding into me from behind. My body rocked into the granite with each roll of his hips. His movements were so quick and controlled. There was no time to process each thrust before he was starting on the next. He was fucking me in every sense of the word and I felt my body blooming with lust and desire.

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He picked up one of my legs and pushed it onto the counter. The movement forced a plate off the edge and it fell to the floor with a loud clap. Neither one of us cared as Liam continued to seduce my body.

He pulled me up so that my back was pressed against his front. His hand wrapped around my throat and I twisted around to steal a kiss. His tongue met mine as my hips bounced back onto him. The first shocks of an orgasm raced through me and suddenly I had to come. It was on the horizon and I couldn't let it wash away.

"Oh, don't stop. Don't stop," I begged as his hips met mine. Even when he thrust into me quick and hard, his movements were calculated and smooth, like he was using his hips to curl into me.

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"Fuck," I moaned as one particularly seductive thrust rubbed directly against a sensitive bundle of nerves. I gripped the back of his neck as an orgasm overtook me. My stomach quivered and he groaned huskily in-to my ear, drawing out even more pleasure.

He came just after I did. He'd hung on long enough, and when he spilled himself into me, I shuddered as the feelings threatened to consume me.

"Liam!" It felt like too much, like my body wouldn't survive the deliciousness of our lovemaking.

He fed off my desire, rocking his hips in-to me until we were both falling to pieces on the kitchen floor. Our bodies slumped down and I fell on top of him with uncontrollable, delirious laughter.

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"I mean, seriously, that is not even fair.

How do women walk away from you?" I asked as my head rested on his chest.

"They don't," he quipped, making my heart stop.

His words were meant as a joke, but I knew they were far from it.

They don’t.

What the fuck had I been thinking, falling in love with a guy like him? Not two months ago I was swearing off the male race all together. I couldn't have found a nice, humble guy who was my age and didn't have sex like it was his life's calling? How stupid was I to put my heart on the line for the third time?

I laughed at the thought. That wasn't true; I'd never put my heart on the line with 778/890

Trey and Josh like I was doing right now with Liam. Liam wasn't something you chose to do or not do; he was like a virus, invading your system and taking root without your permission. He did it to every female in the United States, and sadly, I was no different.

I pushed off the ground and shot him a small smile before heading toward the bathroom to wash up before dinner.

"Kins?" he asked, standing up and tossing away the condom.

I shot him a wave and kept walking. I felt tears burning the edge of my eyes and I realized that having that revelation directly after making love had been a bad move on my part. I always felt a little more vulnerable after mind-blowing orgasms. Maybe I just needed a few minutes to collect myself.

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I could feel his presence behind me and I knew he'd catch up to me before I reached the shower. I hurried my pace as I walked in-to his bathroom. Then I saw the separate room with the toilet and ran straight for it.

He couldn't follow me in there. I locked the door and sank down onto the seat folding my head into my hands.

He didn't knock right away. Maybe he wanted to give me the chance to calm down, or maybe he thought I was actually using the facilities. But when I didn't come out even after I’d flushed and stayed inside for a few more minutes, his voice drifted through the solid wood.

"Kins, are you okay?" he asked with such sincerity that it only made my tears even harder to push down.

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"Yes... just regrouping," I answered honestly.

"Could you regroup with me? What's wrong, babe?" I could hear his body slide down the wall next to the door and I knew he wasn't going to budge until I came out.

"Will you be honest with me if I ask you something? Completely honest?" I asked, stepping closer to the door and resting my forehead against it.

"Yes. Just tell me what's going on. We'll fix it."

I took a deep breath and prepared my heart for the wrong answer.

"Am I being naïve to trust you? Seriously, Liam, you have to be honest with me, I can handle the truth… what I can't handle is getting into another relationship with a guy 781/890

who doesn't respect me enough to be honest."

He sighed on the other side of the door.

"Kins, get your ass out of that bathroom and talk to me face to face."

I mashed my lips together in annoyance, but twisted the knob and cracked the door open. He was still gloriously naked, sitting on the ground, staring up at me with earnest eyes.

Once I'd cracked the door slightly, he reached forward, pried the wood out of my hands, and pushed the door open completely. I jumped slightly, but he shook his head as if to tell me to calm down.

"I am not Josh. I will not hurt you. I was joking in the kitchen. I'm just a normal guy, Kinsley. I want what any other guy wants: to 782/890

have a girlfriend that he loves and who loves him in return. I want there to be trust between us, and I want us to be open with one another. We haven't reached that point yet. I know I have to work to undo the crap other guys have done to you, but please don't shut me out. I can't change your past, Kinsley."

I nodded and finally felt the tears streaming down my cheeks.

"I just felt scared and vulnerable lying on that kitchen floor with you. You could pull the rug out from under me whenever you feel like it... whenever you're ready to move on."

He reached up and pulled my hand down so that I collapsed onto his lap. Our skin was pressed together, hot and sweaty 783/890

from our lovemaking, but I loved it all the same.

"I love you, Kinsley Bryant. I love you because you aren't afraid to go for your dream. I love you because you had the balls to ask me to show you my tattoos when you didn't even know me. I love you because you're so talented and yet so humble. You've been given this tremendous gift and you push yourself every day to become even better. You're inspiring to be around and I love you. Please, believe that."

I stared at his chiseled chest, rising and falling, and let his words marinate inside of me. After a few moments, I finally glanced up and flashed him a small smile.

"You didn't say anything about my rockin’ bod or my quick wit..." He started 784/890

laughing and shook his head, but I kept going despite my laughter. "Or my amazing talents in the bedroom, or my stellar whist-linggggaggghh—” he started tickling me and I couldn't speak over the laughter. I had to use every bit of strength to fend him off.

"Ahhh, STOP Liam Wilder. Right now!"

I demanded, though he didn't heed my harsh tone. He picked me up off the ground and carried me toward the shower, depositing us both under the warm stream. He kept holding me, letting the water rush over both of us.

"By the way, I'm on birth control and I'm clean y’know... if next time we want to…?"

He kissed me before I could continue. "I got checked before we started dating, so yeah, no more condoms."

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I smiled up at him. "Perfect. Let’s go again."

He laughed and tossed water onto me.

"You're insatiable, but I love you," he murmured, kissing my lips. "I love you," he said again, kissing each of my cheeks.

When I opened my mouth to tell him that I loved him too, he stole my breath with a kiss and I never got the chance. I think the sneaky twit did it on purpose.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Are you sure this is a good idea to look at this?" Becca asked as we huddled together over my computer on my bed. I was finally going to go online and see what was being said about me. I knew it was a bad idea, but curiosity was eating away at me and I had to know.

“No, this is a terrible idea, but since we’ve already closed the drapes and locked the doors, we have no choice.”

“Yeah… that’s not how that works, Kinsley,” Becca laughed.

“There’s no choice, Becca!” I added dramatically.

“Whatever, weirdo.”

My life had completely flipped upside down in the past few weeks. I used to take 787/890

my old life for granted. Going to the grocery store, to practice, out to eat—I couldn't do any of it anymore without a group of photographers hounding my every move. And I wasn't even doing anything interesting! Had I been leaving clubs at 2:00 A.M. with white powder dusting my nose, sure, maybe Instagram me, but carrying Whole Foods bags to my car did not seem interesting to me.

Which is why I had to see what they were posting about—why was I still so newsworthy?

Becca typed in one of the top celebrity gossip sites and we waited for it to load. The first few stories were about actual celebrities doing things that were actually semi-interested: cheating, partying, and spending their money frivolously.

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Then my name popped up and beneath it there was a photo of Liam and me walking hand in hand out of Starbucks. I was prepared for the worst, so when I saw

"America's Sweetheart Soccer Couple" beneath the photo, I gasped. They clearly had the wrong person; that photo didn't even show the real details of the situation.

Beneath my stylish sunglasses I had zero makeup on, they thought my hair looked trendy because I hadn't washed it yet that day, and there had been a coffee stain on the front of my shirt, which the website had clearly photoshopped out. I was smiling up at Liam because he was making fun of me for being a klutz with my coffee. I mean, we were happy and we were a couple, but as far 789/890

as being anything close to "America's Sweethearts"... they had it all wrong.

Becca scrolled down to the comments section and that's where all the real controversy was housed. There were thousands upon thousands of comments concerning whether I was good enough/hot enough/nice enough/stylish enough to be dating Liam Wilder. Becca didn't let me read them for too long, but the comments I had time to read tore me apart piece by piece. Some of the claims were just too ridiculous not to ignore.

" He should be with a blonde. "– " He should be with a republican." – " He should date someone who is Jewish."

"Wow. People are really opinionated about Liam's dating habits. Like hyper-opinionated. Why do they care if I use a certain 790/890

kind of shampoo?" I commented as Becca flipped to another website.

“Probably to make sure you don’t use a shampoo that tests their products on animals. They said they don’t want Liam dating an animal abuser.”

Oh good God. I wasn’t killing monkeys over here.

The next site she pulled up had a photo of Liam and me out on the beach near his house. I remembered seeing paparazzi that day and Liam had wanted to go back inside, but I wasn't going to let them ruin our afternoon. Now, I wish I'd listened. Seeing my body in a bikini splashed across the Internet felt oddly personal. The photographs weren’t even close to being pornographic, but it felt 791/890

like I should get a say in whether they get to use photos of me in a bikini or not.

It didn’t help that Liam was rubbing lo-tion onto my back, and the attraction between us was clear even through the computer screen. Had there been an audio clip alongside the photo I would have surely been moaning.

"Do you want to keep going?" Becca asked, eying me wearily.

"Just a few more," I said, knowing the sinking feeling in my stomach was there to stay, even if I stopped looking now.

I should have stopped.

Why the fuck didn’t I stop.

The next few websites were clearly going for a different angle. All of them talked about the controversy that Tara had brought to the 792/890

limelight: Liam dating me when he was my coach, our age difference, his womanizing past, and my seduction of him. All of it was complete bullshit. After all, the media had mostly crafted his past anyway, but it still stung to know that some people were judging me based on this information. And not just some people, thousands of people that didn't know me at all.

I was surprised to find quite a few new comments from Tara. It seemed that the threats from my father's lawyers hadn't shut her up and it enraged me to know that she was still out their spewing her lies.

"I'm going to talk to her," I stated, hopping up off the bed.

Becca sat up, her eyebrows pressed into her forehead in shock. "Who? Tara?"

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"Yup," I said, reaching for my phone. I still had her number programmed in from when she was on the soccer team.

"Call Liam first, he'd want to know,"

Becca said, pushing off the bed and leaving the room to give me some privacy. I motioned that I'd just be a second. She motioned back with a crude jacking-off gesture.

Never change, Becca.

I thought Liam might have still been at practice, but when he answered, my stomach dropped. Crap, I was going to leave a vague message to get myself off the hook… now I actually had to be honest.

"Hey babe, I'm just leaving the fields.

What's up?" His voice was smooth and it almost erased all of my anger from Tara. But not quite.

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"Hey. I think I'm going to call Tara and see if she wants to meet me for coffee or something..."

Silence hung on the phone line as I heard him fiddling with his keys and getting into his car.

"Why would you want to do that?"

I took a deep breath, collecting my thoughts into coherent sentences. "Because she's still out there leading a hate campaign against me and maybe if we meet up and talk, some of the things between us can be settled. She obviously didn't respond to my parents, but maybe I can figure out why she's doing this."

"For attention, Kinsley. She wants the limelight and you know it. She can't get there 795/890

on her own, so she's dragging your name along with her."

I sighed. "Well I still think it could help."

He started his car before answering. "I'm not going to stop you, but I'd like you to go during the day and somewhere that will have a crowd."

"She's not a murderer, Liam."

"Maybe not, but she's certifiably insane, and I'd rather not have to worry about your safety," he sighed. "I still think this is bad idea..."

I paced across the floor of my room, thinking the plan through. "Okay. I promise to do that, and I'll keep you posted. Okay?"

"All right. Call me later. I wish you were going to be at my house when I got home."

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I smiled against the phone screen. "I know, but Becca and I promised we'd spend some time together today. Tomorrow, I'm all yours," I promised.

"All right, love you. Good luck," he said before hanging up. My heart fluttered like it still did every time he said those words. I'd been counting. That was the tenth time he'd said it to me and it still didn't feel real.

The next phone call wouldn't be quite as easy. I scrolled through my contacts until I came to the "T's". Tara's name was first and I pressed send before giving myself time to back out. Each ring that passed seemed to last a lifetime, and I wondered if she'd actually pick up or not.

Then the phone clicked into the call.

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"Kinsley Bryant." She dragged out my name like it was something disgusting stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

"Tara. Hi. Do you have a second to talk?"

She sighed with an exacerbated air. "Not really,

but

I'm

already

listening,

so

whatever."

Stay calm. Stay calm. "Okay, well I was actually calling to see if you would meet me for coffee tomorrow."

"Why the hell would I want to do that?

You got me kicked off the ULA soccer team because you couldn't keep your slutty hormones under wraps."

All right. So she hadn’t had a personality transplant since we last spoke. Bummer.

"Tara, I think we both know that you want to meet with me as much as I need to 798/890

meet with you. Think of the photos they'll take of the two of us. I'll even sit outside so they get a good one of your face."

I was being a bitch, but we both were at this point.

"You think you're such hot shit, Kinsley.

I'll meet you tomorrow, but only because I want to see that dumb expression on your face one last time."

"Great. I'll let you pick the place. Let's meet around three." Then I hung up before she could protest.

Dumb expression? I paused for a moment, realizing what I'd just done to myself and instantly regretting it.

"Becca!" I called, and a second later I heard her footsteps in the hallway. When she 799/890

pushed my door open I turned to face her with a solemn voice.

"I'm meeting with the devil tomorrow at 3."

Becca narrowed her eyes, nodded, and then stepped into my room. "Welp, I guess we better watch the rest of Game of Thrones tonight then just in case you get offed.”

…

Downtown LA was bustling the next day so I had to park quite a few streets away. The Coffee Shop Tara picked was mostly empty which made it easy to spot her bright blonde hair as soon as I stepped up to the outdoor seating.

I was joking about sitting outside so the paparazzi

could

photograph

us,

but

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apparently Tara couldn't pass up a golden opportunity like that. It made me all the more happy that Becca had helped me curl my glossy brown hair. We'd picked out a cotton dress that I paired with a light, summer scarf and my favorite pair of designer flats.

For once, the paparazzi would snap photos of me when I didn't look like crap after practice.

"Hi Tara." I smiled down to her as I walked up. She'd been scrolling through her iPhone, no doubt googling herself, so she hadn't seen me approach. The second she heard my voice, her ears perked and she shifted her vicious gaze to me. Tara was a prime reason to not judge a book by a cover. She looked beautiful and docile. Her sweet features masked such insanity beneath them 801/890

that I couldn't quite figure out how she'd become the bitch that she was.

"Hello, Kinsley. Please take a seat."

I thought she was actually going to be polite.

"You're blocking the sun and I'm trying to get a tan while we get this over with."

Or not so polite.

"Right," I said, shifting down into the seat across from her and placing my purse on my lap. I pulled out my cell phone and ensured that the speaker was facing her before dropping it casually onto my lap.

"How have you been, Tara?" I asked.

"Cut the crap. What do you want?"

She really wasn't going to make this easy. I folded my hands over my lap. "I want to apologize for the way I acted. I should 802/890

have never started dating Liam while he was our coach and had I chosen my actions better, you might not have been kicked off the team."

My apology was clearly the last thing she was expecting because her face contorted in-to an amused glare.

"Oh, please. Anyone of us could have dated Liam. You were just the first one to open your legs. So don't think you're so high and mighty because you sucked him off in the field house and now you think you're actually his girlfriend."

I could feel my eyebrows drifting toward my hairline. Welp, I guess we hadn’t actually gotten away with that as smoothly as I’d thought.

Alriiiighty, then. On to plan B.

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"Well, if you aren't mad at me about those things, I'm a little confused why you're still going after me in the press. I've seen multiple quotes from you that are aimed directly at me."

She rolled her eyes and tipped back in her chair as if bored with the conversation.

"I do what I have to do to stay in the public eye. I put a pause on the soccer crap and now I have a bit more time to devote to my career."

"Your career?" I asked, trying to keep my tone attitude free.

"Modeling and acting," she answered dully, as if I was a blubbering idiot for having to ask.

"Oh, that's awesome. I think you'd be great at that." And I actually did mean it. She 804/890

was dramatic, crazy, and beautiful. What better person to be cast as the villain in films than a person who actually played the role in real life?

"Thanks, but I don't care about your opinion."

I nodded and shifted my gaze to the street for a moment. Camera flashes caught my attention and reminded me about the task at hand.

"So then, if you're focusing on your career now, maybe we can come to an understanding..." I began.

"And what might that be?" She cocked her eyebrow with an incredulous look.

"You have to stop finding fame by dragging me down. The story will fade and eventually people will see right through it. Not to 805/890

mention people will realize that I'm actually very boring and they won't care what I eat for lunch or how I take my coffee. This won't last forever so there's no reason to prolong the inevitable."

A sinful smile spread across her lips.

"Kinsley. The beauty of free speech in this country is that I can say whatever I want, whenever I want. If I want to keep telling the press lies about you then I will because I don't actually give a fuck about you or Liam.

I care about making it big. So this whole conversation has been a colossal waste of your time. In fact, I think you've just made it all the more fun to talk about you to the press because now I know that it's bothering you.

Honestly, Kinsley, you make it just too easy."

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I'll admit there was only a small part of me that had hoped that Tara would come to the light and change her ways. The other 99% of me took pride in the fact that I'd been right in masterminding my plan from the very beginning.

I reached forward and set my phone on the table so that Tara could see the recording screen. Then I hit pause and glanced up at her with a confident smile.

"You know, you think you're so brilliant, Tara, but what you're actually doing is against the law."

"Oh please, I'd love to see you try and take this to court."

I laughed and saw her perfect facade start to crack. "No. I don't plan on suing you.

I don't give a shit about your money. What 807/890

I'm after is public opinion. You see, yesterday I met with a lawyer and filed a restraining order against you. I outlined all of the facts that happened concerning your hazing and bullying, and then I had the other teammates and Coach Davis corroborate my story."

That was complete bullshit, but she totally bought it. Her mask had a giant crack straight down the center.