Chapter 24
“Marvin, oh my god. What happened? Are you okay?”
Clearly confused by me standing at this door when I should be at school with his daughter and my entire class along with appearing as if I’ve just committed a heinous murder, Olan inspects me.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course.” He moves to let me in, and even as I stand in his foyer, I’m not sure why I came here.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” Olan asks with concern.
For a quick moment, I forget why I’m afraid to be here. Olan’s eyes survey me and I look down at my polo. The blue fabric and blood have combined to create a shade that resembles dark burgundy wine. My head fogs with the memory of Sunday. Olan. Recovery.
“Oh no, I’m fine. It’s Teddy. He slipped and split his lip. He’s fine, or he will be. I just need to change.”
“Come in. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Of course, Olan would take care of me. That’s why I came, right? He’s become a safety net. My heart knew where to go, even if my mind didn’t. Without blinking, he stopped whatever he was doing to help me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt or disturb you. I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go home,” I sputter, turning toward the front door.
“Marvin, come.” He grasps my hand – my disgusting, sticky hand – and my fingers tingle with his touch.
He guides me to his bedroom and straight into the bathroom. It’s easily four times the size of my tiny bathroom, and the spa-like soaking tub and separate shower big enough for four people are accented by deep coffee-colored tilework.
“We need to get these off you. This okay?” Olan asks, taking my shirt in his fingers.
I nod, hoping he doesn’t notice my heart pounding.
Carefully, he helps me undress, and though I didn’t come here to be naked in front of him, somehow, the care and tenderness Olan uses makes me view him in an unexpected way. He turns on the shower and waits for it to get warm, gives me a soft kiss on my chin, and leaves me to clean myself.
As I stand under the rain shower, dizziness overtakes my brain. What am I so damn afraid of? The memories of my childhood, my mother’s benders, the feeling of being alone and scared – it all comes flooding back. But I’m not a child anymore, and Olan is not my mother. Thank god for that. He’s been nothing but caring and patient with me, and I’m acting like a shmegegge. And my mother. She’s been trying so hard for so many years. I feel foolish for holding on to the past and letting it impact me. Making space for healing with her has to be a priority too. My eyes sting with thoughts of how I’m failing people who care about me.
The water runs crimson at first and slowly turns pinkish before flowing clear. The blood permeated my clothes and apparently was not only smeared on my face but matted my hair. The hot water warms my core, and washing with Olan’s soap, smelling his woodsy freshness on me, standing where he typically washes, I’m overcome with deep affection. I’ve asked him to wait until the weekend to chat about his recovery. About us. Until after the Teacher of the Year visit, which, holy crap, happens tomorrow, and yet, here I am, literally naked, calmed by the sound of water around me. We need to talk now.
Back in the bedroom, a giant gray towel wrapped around my waist, a white T-shirt, green sweatshirt, and a pair of gray sweatpants await me. With my few inches on him, his pants might be a little short, but they don’t resemble remnants from the set of Carrie . As I approach the bed to get dressed, Olan appears in the doorway.
“Clothes are in the wash. I put them on a heavy-duty cycle, so they might take a little longer, but I can get them to you later.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll wait downstairs. You get dressed.” He steps back into the hallway.
“Olan. Wait.”
I walk over to him and put my right hand on his cheek, cupping his face. His dark eyes furrow, and I glimpse a tinge of hope.
“Thank you,” I say.
And because I’m human and Olan Stone stands in front of me, so close I can smell that damn cherry ChapStick, I lean over and place my lips on his. He kisses me gently and pulls back.
“I thought you wanted to wait…”
“I’m here. We can talk. In a bit.”
It’s only been four days since I’ve seen him. Touched him. Kissed him. Being in his presence causes my body to override my brain. Standing in front of Olan, wearing nothing but a towel, knowing he’s here for me, wanting to help me, his compassion and tenderness on full display, my body can’t hide how aroused I am. Olan glides forward to kiss me and notices.
“Um, are you having an issue with your towel?”
I bury my face in my hands, and he grabs my wrists.
“Marvin, you’re doing it again.”
“What?” I garble behind my fingers.
“Being adorable.”
Olan slowly kisses my neck, taking his time. His mouth explores the space between my Adam’s apple and chest. His warm tongue sends twitches of pleasure to my core as he kisses and nibbles me. I stand in his bedroom, about to be completely exposed in the full light of day, and for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid to be seen. The lights were almost always off or dimmed with Adam, or I was under covers, bare but hiding. Worried. Ashamed. Olan sees me, all of me, and I want to be vulnerable. I pull my hands away and move them to rest on either side of his head.
“What about Cindy?” I ask, appalled at the idea of her discovering her boss and her charge’s teacher in a compromising position.
“Shopping, then picking Illona up. I texted her while you were in the shower,” he mumbles into my neck, making me flutter.
Why did I come here? Not for this. Or did I? Am I willing to put aside my concerns for a momentary physical connection? I do care for Olan. Deeply. But am I only delaying the reality of the situation? Deep down, I worry about being abandoned. About nobody being there for me. But my body brought me here because Olan shelters me. Clustered in his arms, I feel protected. Whatever risk being with Olan brings, I’m ready to take it. Right now, I want this. I want him.
“Okay,” I say.
Olan scans me, starting with my hair and moving down until his face reaches the towel. My dick, throbbing against the fabric, shows him it’s more than ready to be rid of the damn thing, and he pulls the bath sheet from my body.
In one quick motion, Olan kneels and devours me, making me gasp. Once again, he shows me how his mouth can cause my eyes to roll back, and I’m left speechless. He’s enjoying himself more this time, making low growls and moans as he swallows me.
“Mmmmh. Your cock tastes so fucking good.”
He takes it out and slaps it against his face, and I’m, well, flabbergasted.
“Holy crap. You love it, don’t you?”
He answers by swallowing it, almost to the base, and moaning, “Mmmmh.”
I close my eyes, feeling his lips and tongue around me and listening to him slurp and gurgle. The amount of joy he’s displaying from sucking me off makes my blood trumpet. Even though I know I’m the first man Olan’s been with, he seems to naturally know where to go and what to do, and maybe he’s just been waiting so long that he’s finally getting to practice what he’s been brooding over. In typical fashion, I’m overthinking, so I try to relax and relish what’s happening.
Olan stands and the urge to kiss him overtakes me. I taste myself on his lips and a shot of adrenaline rushes through me, making me shudder.
“Okay?” he whispers.
“Oh yeah, I love it,” I say and pull him back, devouring his mouth.
He opens his eyes, just slightly, and I see – maybe for the first time – his deep brown, almost ebony eyes, so close, and he’s looking at me with a longing. We know each other deeper, and maybe I can hand over a tiny bit of myself to this beautiful man.
We fumble to his bed as his clothes come off, arms tangled and twisted, me giggling as he tries to keep his mouth on mine and remove his long-sleeve shirt. And as turned on as I am, the entire awkward shift to horizontal feels clumsy and comical and laughing about it, with him, in the moment, makes my skin simmer. Finally, he’s stripped, and that chest. I never quite understood straight men’s fascination with breasts, but Olan’s pecs hypnotize me. I find it hard to keep my hands off them, perhaps this falls in the same lane.
As we lie on the bed, naked, legs entwined, our hard cocks rubbing against each other, my body takes over, and I grind on him. Olan stops, takes my face in his hands, and peers at me. The attention makes me blush, and he gives a little laugh.
“Adorable.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
“I want you to…” He stops, and his chin drops.
“What do you want? Tell me.”
He puffs out a breath from his nose. He’s either embarrassed or tickled. I came here for help, but also because I wanted that help from him. If we’re going to move forward, we both need to start communicating more openly.
“I can’t read your mind. I want to know what you’re thinking. It’s okay to tell me what you want. It’s just the two of us. You and me.”
He raises his head and moves a little closer, kissing my cheek, and moving his lips to my jaw, and finally landing on my ear. His breath, deep and searing, whispers, “I want you. Inside me.”
Now the absolute wrong thing to do in this moment would be to giggle, smirk, or act silly in any way. So, naturally, what do I do? Let out a loud, raucous laugh that startles poor Olan so much that he jerks away and stares at me in disbelief.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I say through more laughter, “I was not expecting that from you.”
He buries his face in my chest and starts to make small noises indicating he’s cracking up too.
“Listen, nothing would make me happier than to, well, do that, but are you, um, ready? For that? You can’t just barrel into it.”
Olan keeps his head low. I can’t see his face, and he begins talking, but with his lips smashed up against my skin, it’s hard to make out what he’s saying. I gently reach under his chin to lift his handsome face, and by all that is holy, he’s burning up from blushing.
“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s hot when you ask for what you want.”
“I’m ready. I’ve been… practicing,” he says and immediately sinks his face back into me.
“Oh, have you, Mr. Stone? Well, you are full of surprises today.”
“I want it. You.”
He palms my unrelenting cock and begins teasing the head. My body shudders at his exquisite touch.
“Let’s do this slowly.”
Olan pulls out a condom and a small bottle of lube from his bedside table, and I spy what I’m fairly certain is a sex toy. How long have those been in there? He hands the condom to me and deadpans, “Maybe we can get tested so we won’t need condoms. I’d love to be able to just explode inside each other.”
And with that, I fumble the wrapper, sending it tumbling to the floor.
“Um, sure, okay, yeah, that sounds amazing. Now, c’mere. I’m going to get you ready first,” I say, ignoring the misplaced condom for now.
I lay him on his back and kiss his chin. Applying some lube to my fingers, and, trying my best to be gentle, I begin softly massaging the tender skin around his hole. He lets out a soft whimper as I circle the opening, teasing him.
“So sweet,” I say into his neck, carefully pushing a finger in.
“Marv, fuck, fuck.”
Hearing his nickname for me, my heart blooms with endearment. I kiss and nibble his neck and ear, attempting to soothe him. He nods, and I add another finger, causing him to writhe in pleasure, eliciting soft moans. The sounds coming out of his mouth and feeling the hot, desperate way he opens up for me makes my dick throb in anticipation. With three fingers, I reach his prostate, and he begins to whimper softly. As much as I want to fuck him, having Olan at my mercy this way delights me beyond measure. He’s panting now, occasionally my name ekes out until finally, he says, “Now. Fuck me now. Please, please.”
“Okay.”
Reaching to retrieve the condom, I’m so turned on and discombobulated, I lose my balance and tumble to the ground with a loud thud. And now Olan’s on the bed. Wanting to be fucked. Ready to be fucked. And I’m on the floor.
“I’m fine!” I shout.
“Um, what happened?” Olan’s face peeks over the edge of the bed and I have the sudden urge to crawl under it and never come out.
“I lost my balance. Again. Story of my life. One day my headstone will read ‘Marvin Block – Adorable Klutz’.”
Olan lets out a low rumbling laugh and I simper because, well, I’m ridiculous and he still wants me.
“But I got it,” I say, holding the condom up, like a rescued treasure.
“Good. Now, get up here and fuck me. Please.”
My eyebrows almost fly off my forehead.
“Yes, sir.”
Back on the bed, my hands remain slick and wet, and getting the damn thing open becomes a frustrating task.
“Let me,” he says, taking it from me.
Ripping it open with his teeth in a manner that somehow makes him even sexier, Olan rolls the condom on me. Eager and ready, I lift his legs up, rest them on my shoulders, and slowly rub the tip of my cock on his slippery hole. Knowing I’m Olan’s first, I yearn to make it magnificent. His trusting me with this confirms my decision to come here in the first place. He’s not going anywhere. I apply the smallest amount of pressure, ensuring I’m in the right spot.
“Take some deep breaths. Relax. It’s just me. You and me,” I say, leaning over to kiss his forehead.
Olan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Sensing his nervousness, I softly brush my lips on his.
“Let’s take it slow,” I say with another kiss.
It takes patience and tenderness. I push gently inside him and nuzzle his neck, attempting to help him relax. Once I’m mostly in, I pause and ask, “Okay?”
“Yeah, give me a second.”
“Remember, deep breaths,” I say, nibbling his earlobe.
He moans gently, and I move my lips to his and hold him close.
“Mmmmh.”
Pulling out, I say, “Good, breathe. It takes a few tries.”
I press back in and pause, holding myself about halfway in until he smiles and nods. I push all the way, feeling him envelop me, and he lets out a gasp.
“Okay, wait, please,” he says.
The manners on this man blow my fucking mind. I want to eat him up. Waiting for his cue, I run my hands on his chest and say, “You are so damn beautiful. Inside and out.”
Slowly, with a few deep breaths, Olan’s face begins to soften. He unlocks, and I can feel his body completely welcome me. My chest opens up as I melt into him. Being inside Olan feels like the universe opening up and letting me glimpse a hint of the totality of everything. I move slowly at first, steady and careful of his comfort.
“Okay?” I ask.
“Fuck, yes. Fuck. So good.”
“Really?”
“Yes, yes, now, fuck me. Please.”
He begins to rock his hips with mine and gives himself over to the moment, to me. He grabs my hips and draws me into him with such force there’s no denying he’s ecstatic. I begin to move with more energy as he paws at me. His hands explore the lines of my back, waist, and hips. I thrust into him, trying my best to fuse our bodies together.
“God, you’re so perfect,” I say.
He whimpers and clasps my ass, pulling me even closer, deeper. The complete bliss on his face encourages me to lean down. Our mouths connect, and my tongue plays with the tiny space between his front teeth, filling every space in him.
“Your dick feels incredible,” he says, his voice low and raw, sending a jolt of adrenaline straight to my core.
“Yeah?”
“It’s not like the toy. It’s, it’s…”
“Real,” I say, eliciting a laugh from him.
This Olan surprises me. Something inside him was lying dormant. Dying to burst out. He’s unleashed with me, and it drives me wild. I bury my face into his neck and begin licking and sucking my way up to his ear, and the soft noises he makes become lower, louder, and unhinged. Overtaken with desire, I open my mouth and take a bite at his neck, nibbling and gnawing at his salty skin. He’s now panting, moving his hips to match my thrusts, using his hands to quicken my movement. His raw enthusiasm galvanizes our connection.
The kissing and thrusting and heat of our bodies dancing in rhythm intensifies, and my breathing becomes short, staccato notes. Aware of the change, Olan squeezes me, wrapping his arms around me, and in this instant, it feels like we’re quite possibly the closest two people can get.
I push myself up and move a hand to Olan’s cock. He’s rock hard and if he comes this way, it will tear at his seams in all the best ways. He twitches with my first stroke, so I start slowly and only speed up to match my cadence once he’s settled.
“You like that?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah. Keep doing that. A little faster, please.”
“So fucking polite, I want to bite you again.”
I’m elated he’s asking for what he wants. I suck on my left thumb, getting it nice and slippery, and tease his nipple. Some spit on my right palm before returning to his shaft, and everything speeds up. The bed rocks back and forth in time with us, and I turn to kiss his glistening shin resting on my shoulder.
Olan starts to softly whimper and the spellbound look on his face tells me he’s close.
“Please, don’t stop, please, please,” he begs.
I move my hand and hips quicker, and he lets out a gasp, “Oh, Marvin, I’m gonna, I’m gonna…” and he explodes, his breathtaking cock shooting thick ribbons all over my hand, making the movement even more slick.
He pulls me close and grabs my head, fingers entwined in curls, hot breath in my ear.
“I’m almost there, but I need a minute,” I say, pulling out and taking a short respite.
“Come inside me.” His words prickle my ear.
“Are you sure?”
I pull my face up, wanting to see him.
“Marv, get back in there,” he says, turning over, lifting his leg slightly, his delectable ass an invitation.
Again, he’s taking control and it sends me over the moon. I lean down and kiss his right cheek. His ass, so round, so fucking delectable. I want to bite it. Softly, I take a nibble.
“Okay, Mr. Block. Now let’s have you fuck me until you come.”
Having him talk to me this way makes my cock surge and I move into position behind him. At the moment of reentry, pleasure overtakes me. His head thrown back, my eyes dart between the euphoric expression on his face and the sight of my dick sliding in and out of him.
I use my left hand to lift his leg, sliding my palm up and down the underside of his thick thigh. Finally, my hand descends and feels my dick fervently fucking his gorgeous hole.
“It’s not going to take long,” I groan, feeling my orgasm rising like a thermometer in the scorching July sun. Those final thrusts liberate not only my ejaculation but something deep inside me. A brick falls from the wall I’ve carefully constructed to keep myself safe. Now to blast the entire thing to bits. I bury my face in his neck, and my body quakes with blissful release.
“Oh, fuck, Olan. Fuck, you, you, you’re so fucking, you.”
My arm wrapped around his chest, clutching him close, we lie, small aftershocks making my body tremble against his back. My heart begins to slow with deep breaths, and in this vulnerable, delicate moment, because I’m me, I start chuckling.
“Are you laughing at me?” he asks, turning over to face me.
“Oh my god, no, no. Sometimes, after, I giggle. I can’t explain it.”
“It’s probably the release.”
His face is flat and serious and once more the urge to bite him surges in my belly.
“You are such a dork.”
My mouth falls on his, still laughing. Exhilarated and numb, we lie on the bed sweaty and sticky, and serenity washes over me. I close my eyes and make a quick wish to stay this way forever.
“You okay?” I ask.
“No. I’m better than okay. I’m spectacular. That was… so different. So much better.”
“Better than what?” I ask.
“Than before. Than alcohol. Than everything.” His eyes sparkle mischievously. “You know, we still have about an hour until Illona comes home. I have an idea,” he mutters.
“I don’t think I’m ready for round two yet.”
“No, silly.”
Popping off the bed, he jogs into the bathroom, his fabulous body on full display. I hear the sound of water cascading and smile. I’m not sure what his plan for us entails, but I’d be more than content to lie here naked with him for the next hour. A few minutes later, Olan appears, still bare but with a shiny, damp stomach and chest, and he grabs both of my hands in his.
“Come on, lazy bones. You’re going to love this, I promise.”
Reluctantly, I let him help me up, and we saunter into the bathroom. My feet shuffling behind him, hands on his waist, I try to keep my body warm by staying as close to him as possible. He fits perfectly in front of me. We’re like two snap cubes clicking together.
Water flows almost to the top as the bath fills. Aromas of lavender and smoke fill the room from five flickering candles, creating a quiet twilight against the walls.
“There’s room for both of us,” he says, walking me over, not dropping my hand, and assuring I don’t lose my balance stepping in. The water steams, I ease in, and the tension from the day begins to fade. Olan joins me, and we rest on opposite ends of the soaking tub, the spout smartly positioned in the middle so we can both lean back. He keeps his knees bent slightly and tugs at my feet, stretching my legs out. Under the water, his hands glide up and down my shins, and I wonder if maybe this would be the ideal place to spend eternity with him instead of the bed.
“We’ve got an hour,” he warns.
“Perfect.”
I wasn’t planning on it, but I feel so relaxed, at ease, and connected to him in this tub. What I say next surprises even me.
“I want to tell you about why your recovery freaked me out.”
Olan’s lips draw tight, and he gives a slight nod, urging me to continue.
“Growing up with an alcoholic mom, well, messed with my head. My dad left when I was a baby, and Sarah was solely responsible for me. Turns out, she could barely take care of herself. She would have these horrible benders, always vowing to do better the next day. Promises to take me places, to the movies, shopping, to buy me stupid things we couldn’t afford. Broken promises.”
Olan continues to rub his hands up and down my legs. His eyes are glistening and my throat catches.
“She’d stop drinking for a few days, and then it would all happen again. Rinse and repeat.”
“It sounds like your dad leaving really did a number on her.”
“Yeah, I mean, I think that was a big part of it. And over years and years, well, it caused me to have an enormous problem trusting people.”
“And then your ex cheated on you.”
“Exactly. I’m working on things with my mother. She’s doing so well and I know she’s moving heaven and earth to repair our relationship. It’s really on me now.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It sounds like years of trauma to deal with.”
“Yeah, I’m trying. I know I’m messed up, and I know there are issues I need to tackle, but well, now you know why I bolted on Peaks. I feel like an ass. I’m sorry.”
“Marvin, you are not an ass. You have a great ass, but you are not an ass.” He leans forward and runs his right hand all the way up to squeeze my butt.
“So, when did she finally sober up?”
“My senior year of high school, she had a nasty night out and drove when she shouldn’t have.”
Olan winces, his inferences skills on point.
“Thankfully the only casualties were a tall oak tree and her Focus. She was banged up pretty bad in the hospital, and I sat at her bed, weeping, pleading for her to get help. I was leaving for college soon, and the idea of her alone, drinking herself to death, terrified me. I think that frightened her enough to agree to get help. She’s been sober since but getting there was a long fucking road.”
Olan scoots closer, our legs bending and melding together underwater. He places a hand on each of my thighs and pulls himself until his beautiful face lingers inches from mine.
“Listen, I can’t guarantee perfection, but I promise I’d never hurt you intentionally. And I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t had a drink in almost a year. And before that – college. I know this, whatever this is, feels new, but you have to trust me. I take my sobriety seriously. When you took off, well, it stung.”
My eyes begin to water, and I’m hopeful the steam from the bath might camouflage them a little.
“Olan, I’m sorry. Truly. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
I give him a soft, gentle kiss. He opens his mouth slightly and I take that as acceptance of my apology.
“One of the reasons I moved to Portland was the strength of the recovery community here. I’ve got a fantastic sponsor, Jack. We text and chat daily. He knows all about you. I attend three meetings a week. Maybe you could come with me sometime?”
The thought of recovery, AA, it all hits a little too close to home, but I also see Olan, unguarded, and my soul sings loudly. My heart understands he’s a good man. My head worries about, well, too much.
“I’d like that. My trust issues mean I sometimes struggle with being vulnerable, but you’re starting to weasel your way into my heart. Truly. I’m going to do my best to let you in.”
“Well, I did just let you in. Pretty deeply,” he says flatly.
“Are you being filthy when I’m trying to be serious?”
He leans in and presses his lips to mine, answering me with a kiss that sends a swarm of butterflies plunging into my stomach.
“Now, can I tell you something that worries me?” he asks.
“Of course.”
“You’re such a committed teacher. You clearly love your students and take your job seriously, but sometimes, well, I worry you’re too dedicated.”
“Is this about the award?”
“Partly, yes. I know it means a lot to you and the school, but I just worry you’re not taking care of yourself.”
“I just want to be the best for the kids. I can work on balance. I’m not perfect, but I’ll keep trying.”
“Marvin, you don’t have to be perfect. Nobody is. Why do you think you need to be perfect?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if I’m perfect…” But I can’t say the rest: maybe nobody will leave me . Instead, I say, “I hear you, and I understand. Once the visit and interview are over, things should settle down some.”
“Okay, but I’m keeping my eye on you.”
“Please do,” I say and move in for another kiss, his lips wet and warm.
“We should get out. They’re going to be home soon.”
And with that, the reality of tomorrow, the visit, the interview, the award, the funding comes crashing into my head.
“I better get home,” I blurt, jumping out of the tub, sending copious amounts of water cascading onto the tile floor, sloshing everywhere.
“Marvin, slow down. Let me help you.”
Olan hops out of the bath, grabbing towels from a shelf to lend me a hand sopping up the puddles of water. We both get to work, pushing towels around in grand strokes, attempting to erase the mess I’ve made being erratic. And, for just a moment, I stop mopping up water and simply stare at him, his muscles damp from the tub, rippling and stretching as he works completely naked.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, noticing I’ve stopped.
“Nothing, it’s just, well, distracting.” I motion to his nudeness.
He grabs one of the dry towels from the pile and wraps it around his waist.
“Better?”
“Yes. And no.”
Dressed, we stand at his front door. This afternoon unfolded in a way I would have never predicted. Leaving school early, covered in blood, being comforted by Olan, bathing with him – the ransacking of my routine would typically rattle me, but with him next to me, close, kind, and supportive, I’m leaning into the reshuffling.
“I’m going to do some reading and preparing tonight, but let’s make sure we at least text later. Sound good?”
Olan nods, and kisses me. And instead of turning and bolting, I pause and kiss him back. Our mouths connected, filled with affection, I linger, savoring the moment. Maybe there’s hope for me after all?
* * *
Back in my apartment, I pop a frozen cheese pizza into the oven as Gonzo lies on the table next to my computer, pawing gently at piles of papers. Tomorrow’s visit and interview feel like a big deal. Me, in that luxurious tub, attempting vulnerability with Olan, feels monumental. Talking with him and sharing a part of why I’m so, well, me makes the tightness in my chest loosen, which feels auspicious.