I got dressed this morning for work with two purposes in my mind. Purpose number one, slay the entire office as I usually attempt to do and purpose number two, impress the publisher and assistant publisher from Pebbles Publishing.
My hair is pulled back into a bun and my makeup is light on the eyes but heavy on the lips with a vivacious red. The neckline of my vibrant red dress is somewhat of a v-neck that's just low enough to catch your attention but high enough to be modest. With cap sleeves and body hugging fabric, I feel sexy and sophisticated, especially with my navy blue blazer and heels to match. Instead of being too matchy-matchy I carry a nude bag full of everything I'll need for work and the meeting at Pebbles during lunch.
"Oh would you look who it is," Damien sings sliding into my office with Amita in tow.
I roll my eyes with a laugh in my throat. He and Amita have been giving me so much shįt since everyone found out about Harry and I knowing each other. They flipped even more when I told them I was staying with him until my condo gets fixed.
"Who would you expect it to be other than me in my office Damien?" I ask, shutting down my computer with the full knowledge that I won't be getting any more work done before we leave for lunch.
He stops in his tracks as if thinking it over. Amita however needs no time to think before quipping, "We assumed it'd be you and boyfriend number one, Berkley. Or is he boyfriend number two now that you've got Harry freaking Styles on the roster?"
I openly roll my eyes at the both of them before rushing to the door to close it behind them. Damien is in my chair by the time I turn around and Amita is sitting on the front of my desk playing with the Newton's Cradle my parents sent me making me groan.
Grabbing the desk accessory from in front of Amita I fan my hand at Damien for him to move while griping, "First of all, Harry is not on my roster, we're just friends. Secondly, Berkley is not my boyfriend. And third, don't you dāmn renegades have anything better to do than bug me?"
They move to share Berkley's normal seat on the edge of my desk whispering conspiratorially.
"See how she talked about Harry first," Damien whispers loudly to Amita, nudging her.
She nods dramatically, "Mhm. She's showing her true colors, especially the red on her cheeks, she's getting downright embarrassed."
I feel my face heat even more unaware that my blush could be noticed. "Out," I demand standing to my feet, "Both of you, get your tan asses out of my office."
"What are you gonna do? Report us to boyfriend number two?" Amita teases, walking towards the door with Damien laughing.
I'm trying with everything not to laugh but I fail. "I really hate yall you know that right? Get out."
Damien tapers off his laugh enough to interject before they leave, "Wait, we came to ask if you were having lunch with us? We're going to Chipotle."
My stomach growls at the thought of a burrito. "I thought the lines were too long for a regular day."
He grins then, that sneaky grin he saves for occasions when he's up to no good, "I know a guy."
I laugh shaking my head. "Does your fiancé happen to know this guy too?"
He rolls his eyes theatrically. "Anyways," he hisses the 's' like an annoyed snake, "are you coming or not boyfriend juggler?"
"I think I hate you the most," I reply, making him laugh, "But no, I can't come. I told you guys I have that meeting with Pebbles Publishing today."
Both of their eyes widen and genuine smiles spread across their faces.
"I don't know how we forgot," Amita reacts, placing her hand on her chest, "Are you excited?"
I smile at the pride and sincere excitement for my success I see in my friend's eyes. I haven't had friends like these ever and close ones I feel I can trust in even longer. It's startling, the emotions you get from experiencing love and support from people who have nothing to gain from giving it.
I nod in response to Amita's question before verbally responding, "A little nervous though."
She and Damien walk back into the room immediately and encase me in hugs on each side.
Since I told them about my anxiety and how bad things can get for me they've been amazingly supportive. I've never had to worry about them putting me in situations that could spark my anxiety because they always check with me to make sure I'm good. They don't coddle me necessarily, they're just more aware.
"Don't worry about a thing Bailey, you're going to knock their socks off," Amita whispers calmly.
"They're going to see exactly what I saw the first time I read a word of your writing, that you're crazy talented and deserve a deal," Damien encourages, rubbing my arm comfortingly.
For some reason I start to laugh. Not at what he said but at what we must look like linked together like one big pretzel attached to an office chair.
"Thank yall so much," I announce between small giggles. "I love you guys, I swear I do."
They each give me one final squeeze before standing to their full heights.
"Now she loves us D," Amita jokes, "a second ago she hated us."
"Hated me the most," he jests back.
"I'm seeing exactly why I said it now," I laugh grabbing my purse so we can ride the elevator down together.
~*~
The office building of Pebbles Publishing isn't too far away from Reynolds Incorporated so when I arrive twenty minutes early for my meeting I decide to sit in my car and get myself together. Running through my mental checklist I make sure I have everything I need for the meeting, especially the USB Drive with my completed works on it. I decided to only add in the highest viewed completed novels I have on Spoodle while the rest of the USB is filled with completed unpublished works.
Thoughts of me tripping or stumbling over my words keep wafting through my mind but I knock them out of the way and continue to center my mind on the one thing I want more than anything, success. If I can land this book deal with them all of my dreams would be within my grasp. I wouldn't have to work a job that I like but don't love. I could spend my days in my PJs within the comfort of my own home doing what I love.
BO$$ by Fifth Harmony comes on my shuffle making me squeal. I have just enough time to give it a listen and let it empower me to take over the world. The lyrics are simple, not the stuff Grammy's are made of but they're efficient. Every time I hear it I want to get my life together and today is no different. By the time the song ends I'm ready to take on anything, at least while this high lasts.
Getting out of my car I smooth my knee length dress before slipping on my three-quarter sleeve blazer. Placing my bag in the crook of my left arm I check the time on the watch on my right wrist. Ten minutes until the meeting, perfect.
My heels click across the pavement towards a mirrored glass giant. The sound changes from something similar to two rocks scraping each other to the click of heel against marble that I'm so familiar with. Looking down I see the pathway to the entrance is paved in a distinct white and grey pattern that matches well with the silver embossed glass doors ahead of me.
I continue my stride through both sets of doors and across floors matching the pathway outside. Cube shaped columns seem to hold up nothing as high as they go, while the walls are a mix of dark grey slate and a light grey marble. Against the dark grey wall facing the receptionist the company name is spelled in white decorative pebbles, while the long receptionist desk is made of the same dark grey slate and framed in the same pebbles as the wall.
I feel and see eyes on me as I stride confidently past the lounging black couches against the wall to the receptionist desk. One man shakes his head as if there's something wrong with me being here but I don't let it faze me, I push through the nerves and strut on.
"Hello," I greet kindly as I make it to my destination, "My name is Bailey Duncan, I have a twelve fifteen meeting with Jordan Chase."
"Early," the perky brunette reveals after a few pecks at her keyboard, "Mr. Chase will love that. Follow me."
I trail behind her as she walks from behind the desk, taking in her appearance looking for something I can compliment. Her lithe body looks nice in a flowy white blouse she has tucked into a black pencil skirt. She matched a pair of red heels with it, giving me my compliment on a silver platter.
As the elevator opens I step inside offering a compliment as I do. "Your shoes are great by the way."
Her eyes widen in surprise that I noticed, let alone acted on it. "Thank you. I love your bag. Is it Givenchy?"
Knowing it's another one of my knockoffs I hesitate on the truth. Instead of answering verbally I nod and then thank her. At least it's not a full lie. The elevator doors close on her giving me a wave goodbye before she asks anymore questions.
I hum absentmindedly to calm my nerves as the elevator takes me up to the sixth floor. I figure we must be meeting in a conference room and not Mr. Chase's office since we're so low but it's just as well. All I need is for things to go well and to get back to work on time.
The doors open to a smaller version of the main floor lobby. Walking straight over to the receptionist, a bored looking red-head probably in her early twenties, she perks up when she sees me.
"Hello, you must be Ms. Duncan?" she greets standing to her feet.
I smile, they sure know how to make a girl feel welcomed, "I am, but Bailey is fine."
"Well, Bailey," she replies stopping after saying my name as if I'd change my mind and snap on her for using it, "Mr. Chase will be ready for you in a moment. I've already alerted him to your arrival, he's just finishing up with a conference call in his office. In the meantime can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? Tea? A snack?"
Her pep isn't as infectious as you might think. It's actually a bit annoying and overwhelming. I can tell she hasn't had anyone come up to the floor all day so all of her energy has been stored up just for me.
"A tea would be lovely," I reply, a smile creeping to my lips as the word reminds me of Harry and his sudden addiction to using it. "Earl Grey if you have it with honey and sugar."
She nods eagerly. "Coming right up."
Thankfully I'm alone with my thoughts as I watch the pale pink of her dress disappear into a room off to my left. I've never been to anything like this so I have no idea what to expect. For once Google has failed me. I spent the majority of last night looking up the protocol for a meeting with a publisher, the other half was spent playing various games of tag and hide and seek with Harry around the house, don't ask.
"Miss Duncan," I hear from my right bringing me out of the memory of Harry slipping in his socks and busting his butt on the living room floor.
I stand to my feet and am greeted with two men that look like they were born to do business. I assume Mr. Chase is the one that's a little older but both men are decently attractive. They almost look as if they could be related with the same lightly tanned skin, black hair, brown eyes, and squared jawlines.
"Jordan Chase," announces the man who spoke to me first, holding out his hand for me to shake, "this is my publishing assistant Henry Bomer."
"Mr. Chase, Mr. Bomer," I reply as I shake their respective hands.
"Please first names only," Jordan smiles before looking behind me, "Jennifer, please bring Henry and I our usual coffees."
I turn to see the peppy red-head from earlier nod her head to him before handing me my tea in a plain white mug.
"Let me know if you need anything else," she winks as if it's a secret, then turns to go back into the room I can only assume is the break room.
"Well let's get this show on the road, I'm sure you have to be back at work soon," Jordan assumes, reminding me of my prior responsibility.
I nod and walk carefully behind them so as not to spill my tea. The room we walk into isn't huge but the view is sick. Nearly every wall has a window that overlooks some of the smaller buildings downtown. The interior is very serene with white furniture, beige walls, and light brown wood flooring. We walk over to the long white table in the center of the room and Henry pulls one of the white plush rolling chairs out for me.
I thank him as I take a seat then blow over a sip of my tea. I partially listen as Jordan and Henry go over the basis of the company and when it was founded and how but I can't seem to focus well. As interesting as I'm sure all of this would be if I didn't have somewhere else to be, I do have to get back to work.
"You probably don't care anything about this," Henry laughs interrupting a longwinded explanation of Jordan's background with the company's start up.
I almost spill my tea when my body lurches slightly with my giggles. "I'm sorry, is it evident? It's not that I don't care it's just that as you said Jordan I do have to get back to work in half an hour and we all know how unpredictable L.A. traffic can be."
I hope I'm not being rude or too forward but I have to be honest. Whitney has been looking for any little thing to run back and tell Berkley and I don't want me being late to be it. Especially since I don't know where we stand right now with the rumors about me and Harry dating floating around.
Jordan smiles apologetically, "Sorry, I get a little caught up. Tell me about yourself, why did you start writing? More specifically why did you start on Spoodle?"
I raise my eyebrows at the loaded questions, now it's my turn to be longwinded. I narrow my thoughts down before I speak, "I've always wanted to be passionate about something I just never knew what to apply it to. I tried my friends, that failed, relationships, and those backfired, but when I tried writing it just... clicked. Then I applied those previous fails to my writing and now here I am."
Henry nods his head while Jordan smiles a smile with wisdom and years of experience with exactly what I was talking about behind it.
"I guess this is a dumb question but I'll ask anyway, do you love writing? I mean really love it? The same way you would love a friend or a family member or a lover? Because only those authors are the type that truly survive in this industry," Henry explains.
I'm thankful for Jennifer delivering their coffees, it gives me time to get my thoughts in line.
Once she leaves I answer, "It's not always easy for me to decipher what I'm feeling. It could be because I have an artist's soul or that I'm just indecisive but with writing the answer's always simple. I always find time for writing, it's how I know I love it."
My words ring true about other things or better yet other people in my life but I push the thoughts away. This isn't the time or the place to analyze my life.
My answer must be satisfactory because the next thing out of Jordan's mouth surprises me.
"Do you have any of your work for us to look over?"
I nod and slip my hand into my purse pulling out the dark purple USB. I'm slightly embarrassed by the color but it was as business oriented as I'd allow myself to go.
Jordan accepts the flash and Henry asks, "Is Fresh Start there?"
My heart catches in my chest slightly cracking, threatening to shatter at any moment. Fresh Start is the book I've been languidly writing about Harry and I and our relationship. It dawned on me that they may only be interested in my work because of the news of Harry and I breaking but it didn't seem to have any effect on things until now.
Trying to think positively I smile through the negative thoughts, "It isn't since it's still a work in progress. I have a lot of my completed novels there that I never published to Spoodle. I figured you guys could do more with those."
He nods slowly then shares a look with Jordan. It's almost like some type telepathy, their brows unfurrow at the same time as if they came to a conclusion that pleases the both of them.
"Right," Jordan starts, "We'll definitely take a look at those other works but we'd love to get an insider look at Fresh Start. We have an internet outreach division that's had it's eye on the growing number of readers for it for a while now. Since there's so much support for the novel we'd like to get on some marketing strategies and possibly make it your first published work."
I swallow the lump in my throat, unsure of what to say. On the one hand that sounds like a plausible thing. On the other hand I make a mental note to Google this so called internet outreach program when I get home.
"We'd like you to have this contract, you can take it in to a lawyer get it looked over. Take your time with it and then get back to us. We'd love to have you sign on with Pebbles," Henry assures me as he hands me the thick stack of stapled papers.
They feel warm in my hands as if they just came off the printer. It isn't until I stand and the room tilts a bit that I realize it's me that's hot. I put on a brave face as I fight back the bundle of uneasy emotion inside of me.
"Will do," I say extending my hand to them, "Thank you for your time, I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
They each shake my hand, neither of them noticing how my hand shakes or the sweat slowly coating it.
Walking behind them to the elevator I wave to Jennifer who already has it open and waiting on me.
"We look forward to hearing from you soon," Jordan says as I walk through the open doors, "Wonderful meeting you."
"Likewise," I reply as the doors close.
It takes everything in me to hold it in until I get to my car but nearly the second I sit down I let out the emotions. Something that sounds like a scream and a groan mixed escapes my throat and frees my back of the proverbial monkey on it, at least for now.
~*~
I walk out of the bedroom with Harry's t-shirt securely wrapped around my wet hair. This better dry my hair fast because if he catches me I'm dead. Since living with him for a little over a week I've come to find he's pretty touchy about his stuff. If I mess with anything he knows it and he tickles me as punishment. Funny stuff but laughing to much isn't good for anybody.
I've been needing to perm my hair for weeks now and I finally got around to it only to have to do a rush job because I almost passed out in the shower. Whenever I get really busy I always forget to eat, today has been one of those days. The combination of the steam in the shower and my lack of nutrients had my head spinning like crazy.
Making quick work of the dishes in the sink I hop on the island counter with a bowl of grapes and flip through the In Touch Magazine sitting there. They're always spitting the worst horse shịt about people and normally I wouldn't support them but Harry made the cover again with Tara, a Victoria's Secret model, on his arm. In the photo he has his arm around the blonde bombshell's waist as they sneak out of the club.
Reading that they've been seeing each other for months and that they're getting serious sends a nervous prickle up the back of my neck. I've seen him texting someone by the name of Tara from time to time but he still hasn't mentioned her to me. It's not like we don't talk about our "significant others" to one another, I've mentioned Berkley a million times and we aren't even on good terms.
Putting the bowl of grapes down I cross my legs and place the magazine in my lap so that I can read it better. I laugh when I read that "a source" says he brought her back to his place for alone time.
From the looks of his outfit I remember this night pretty clearly. He came home very much alone and a foot past tipsy. He came into my room and woke me up by jumping on the bed. That is until the ceiling fan popped him in the side of his head. I spent the rest of the night nursing his head wound and making sure he didn't fall asleep in case of a concussion.
"What are you reading?" the man in question asks, startling me. I didn't even hear him come in.
"Nothing," I say quickly, putting my guilty pleasure underneath my thigh.
He narrows his eyes and saunters over slowly. "It doesn't look like nothing to me. In fact it looks like you're breaking our unspoken rule about this," he reaches underneath me and pulls out the magazine, holding the proof in the air, "load of bollocks."
I smirk and shrug my shoulders. "Sorry not sorry Houdini. I've got to get my fix of gossip somehow. Besides if the rule is unspoken how was I supposed to know it?"
I slide down from the counter thinking he's going to step back and give me some space but he doesn't and I end up grazing his body with my own. My skin erupts in gooseflesh and I quickly move towards the fridge, looking for a distraction.
"What do you want to eat for dinner? I could cook or go out and get something or we could order in," I ramble, grasping at straws for conversation.
I hear him walking over but never take my face out of the fridge.
"I know what I want to eat," he mumbles.
My eyes bulge and I spin around to face him.
Obviously he didn't think I'd hear him because his face flames the second we make eye contact and he shoves a few of the grapes I had earlier into his mouth looking like a well fed squirrel.
"These grapes are really fresh," he announces, his voice loud, then his eyes narrow as he points to my head, "Is that my shirt?"
I gulp and think up the best lie I can but damn if those bright green eyes of his aren't making it hard.
"We ran out of towels," I blurt out knowing that will go down as the dumbest lie I've ever told.
He purses his lips making his dimples come out and my breathing hitch.
"Did we now? I distinctly remember coming home to wet t-shirts on a few occasions and all of them have been after you moved in."
I close the refrigerator and walk over to the pantry. "What a coincidence," I reply as nonchalant as I can, acting very interested in a can of green beans.
He huffs behind me. "We'll just see about that."
I hear his boot clad feet stomping from the kitchen and cringe when I hear his self-satisfied, "A-Ha!", and his footsteps basically flying back towards the kitchen.
Feeling his presence in the room, I turn slowly to face him with a sweet smile.
"Out of towels eh?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips.
I feign surprise. "Oh look you found one," but when I realize he doesn't believe me I change tactics, "Let's look on the bright side here." I can't exactly offer one but I'm hoping the phrase is enough to get me out of trouble.
His eyebrows raise jokingly, "Oh there's a bright side? I'd love to hear it 'cause from where I'm standing the only side I can see is that my girlfriend is a bloody liar."
The air gets desperately thin around us and neither of us dare to breathe it in.
His face is beet red and he starts to stammer. "N-Not my girlfriend as in girlfriend but my girl," he gestures his hand, "friend. You know what let's not make this about me."
I raise my hands in understanding.
The room is almost unbearably silent for ten minutes, both of us moving around without knowing what to say or how to approach a new conversation. This is how it always is with us. We'll go from playful banter to uncomfortable tension faster than Drake goes from zero to one-hundred.
"So," he starts, "I think we should be really unhealthy tonight and just eat junk food and watch movies. They've got a load of new ones on pay-per-view this month."
I turn to him but his back is to me. I can see the redness of his neck, he's obviously still too embarrassed to turn around so I don't press the issue.
"Fine by me, I worked out pretty hard today once I got home so it's all good," I reply, walking towards our room.
He catches my arm, stopping me mid-stride.
"You don't have to work so hard, you know?" his tone is light but I know he's serious.
Ever since I told him about my issues with food he keeps a good eye on me to make sure I stay relatively normal with my eating habits, whatever that means.
I give him a light smile and nod, not wanting to get into it. "I'm going to go blow dry my hair."
When I get back I start cooking a traditional British dish, fish and chips. I've decide I'll tell him about the meeting I had this afternoon over dinner. Of course that means I'll have to admit to writing a secret book about us and I have no idea how that's going to go over. Grabbing the ingredients I'll need I start cooking hoping that once the night is done I won't be homeless.
As we sit down with our meals Harry pours both of us a glass of white wine, a welcomed sight. I gulp mine faster than I probably should but I'm nervous as hell.
"Slow down B, there's enough for the both of us," he laughs holding the bottle up to refill my glass.
I smile nervously, "Sorry. Uh, how was your day?"
He shakes his head dismissing my apology before answering, "Fine I guess. I hung out with the boys, we did a little writing for the new album. We're hoping to go for a few more intimate tracks so we're getting them cleared by the label."
I nod, half-listening. "Cool."
Immediately his head pops up as if he knows something is off. "What's up with you? Did something happen today?"
I roll my eyes at how well he knows me, moving in together didn't help any even if it is just temporary. I take a deep breath before spilling the beans, "Yes, I mean kind of. I met with a publisher at Pebbles Publishing about my writing today at lunch. They offered me a deal I think. I mean they gave me a contract but-"
Before I can finish Harry interrupts, his eyes wide, a prideful gleam in them. "That's amazing! We should be toasting with champagne or something! This is exactly what you wanted!"
I smile lightly but shake my head, "I guess. It's just-"
He interjects again, "Don't worry about the legality of the contract or anything I'll have my lawyer look over it. I wish you would've told me about this I would've had him go with you. I guess it doesn't matter now, you got the deal! How do you want to celebrate?"
Seeing the look on his face, the excitement there the pride in my accomplishment, I can't squash it. Maybe it's me being a coward and wanting to put off facing the music but I won't rip the rug from under him while he does his happy dance.
I shrug, "I don't know. Nothing really, this is good."
He shakes his head before I can even finish. "Nope, no way. This is something major, you should do something fun to commemorate it." He snaps his fingers, "Got it! You can come with us on our annual camping trip."
My face scrunches in disgust immediately making him laugh. "Harold you do realize who you're talking to right? Besides I just finished perming my hair."
He looks confused, bless his heart. "What do you mean perming? Your hair doesn't look curly at all."
I smile before dropping some knowledge on him. "Love, when your hair is my texture, mostly with black women, when we perm out hair it's to straighten it. You remember that girl I showed you on my Instagram with the curly hair? She was natural, that's the state my hair would eventually get to if I didn't perm it."
He nods his head slowly, understanding on his face then a frown, "Well why don't you? You'd look good with curly hair."
I laugh at his naivety, it's cute. "It's a longer process than overnight Houdini. Besides I like my hair straight it's easier for me to manage. All I have to do is wrap it up every night and I wake up in the morning flawless like Beyoncé."
He laughs then, "So that's why you were wandering around here with that rag on the other night. I nearly clocked you one until I saw your silhouette."
I shake my head hearing his late night encounters with me and my head rag. He sleeps like such a log I thought when he was out he was out.
"Are you really going to let a silly thing like a perm stop you from experiencing this once in a lifetime opportunity? Camping with One Direction, we may even take our shirts off who knows?" he teases with a grin.
"What about the bugs Harry?" My tone is completely serious because I'm completely serious. Bugs and I don't get along.
He laughs, shaking his head, "You're the toughest person I know you can't tell me you're afraid of a few little bugs."
"If it has over four legs it is not my friend," I state matter-of-factly grabbing our dishes.
"All the more reason to not be afraid of them if you ask me," he retorts raising an eyebrow.
"And who asked you?" I exclaim, walking towards the sink with our plates.
"You did!" he laughs. Settling down after a few seconds he clears his throat and asks, "So are you going to go? I'll have to share a tent with Niall if you don't and he farts in his sleep."
I giggle thinking that that's typical Niall behavior. "Alright Harold I'll do you a solid this time but you owe me."
His smile lights up the room and swells the spot in my chest he's slowly working his way into.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
What's up my good people!!!!
I hope yall liked the chapter!! I finished my school work early so I was able to get the chapter up in time!!
This chapter's Question...
Do yall think she should've told Harry the whole truth about the book deal?
This chapter's goal...
I wanted to allow Bailey to live her life a bit with and without Harry. I don't want to ever have her become completely absorbed in their relationship and/or interactions. By showing her handling her business and taking the meeting about the book deal I wanted to show that she's still about handling her business first. Although I kind of melted at his reaction to the news ^_^ I'm trying to keep a balance between "cupcake" Harry and "serious" Harry, I personally feel like those are the two sides to him that we as fans can see so hopefully I'm doing a good job!
Side Note....
Am I the only one who feels it's SUPER awkward to look up stuff about the boys? I feel like I'm creeping hella hard lol I had to look up something about Harry for a later chapter and felt so fucking creepy I just stopped and decided to make it up instead lmao Idk just thought I'd ask if I'm the only one!
This chapter's song...
BO$$ by Fifth Harmony. I feel like this is the song that would've been playing in Bailey's head as she walked into the publishing office which is why it was on her shuffle before she went in. I for one love this song and every time I hear it it makes me want to be about my business so I asserted the same for Bailey. It's a fun song as well as encouraging so yeah :)
As for new follower S/O's...
This time we have: sulent14, misfarray, vinmeister, and pxdobxar!!!!
Thanks so much for following and I hope I don't disappoint!
Invite your friends to read and follow and leave me some feedback in the comments!! I love hearing from yall!!!!
Until Next Time,
WBN