All you know is uptown; fancy clothes, expensive cars, jewellery outshining one's personality and exhausting dinners with family acquaintances and business partners. Your life is all planned out; one day, you'll marry Howard Stark's son and you'll be the golden couple adored by press.
You desperately seek to see life outside this suffocating glitz.
That's how you meet Steve Rogers.
For cxptain's Tumblr challenge (lovemeter), Prompt: Uptown Girl by Billy Joel
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1. Uptown Meets Downtown
Your sigh was drowned in the sea of voices as you slipped under the surface, the water closing above your head. The moment you opened your mouth to gasp for air, it filled with water instead, and you reached out to the sun glimmering above, trying to save yourself--
To be entirely honest, now you were being dramatic; however, shall anyone exchange places with you, you were sure they would feel the same about the company of artificial people in their best Sunday suits and fancy dress, sitting around the table pretending to be engaged in the small talk.
As your eyes fell on man seated opposite to you, a bowtie around his neck, one corner of his lips raised in a blend of a smile and a smirk, your mind drifted to your wonderful friend. KR BAR
Virginia Potts, or Pepper for short, a nickname saved for her friends only, would be much better of a match for Anthony than you. She was nothing short of a proper lady and her parents, while not as wealthy as yours, were much more liberal and supportive of her following her dreams. Pepper Potts was about to turn tables and start her own company from a scratch, businessmen be damned. Her mind was brilliant, her persona enchanting, her appearance turning heads wherever she went and her heart was overflowing with kindness and determination. She was about to make people question the very definition of doing business once she set her foot in the field.
Your parents' thinking, on the other hand, froze in the sixties, maybe forties. You were meant to become a glorified housewife, albeit educated enough to teach her own kids. You never really minded that; it wasn't what laid heavy in your mind. Anthony did.
Anthony's parents were as strict as yours, never quite giving him a choice but to take over the family company and wickedly join it with your father's by tying your families together one day.
Your future family and your love life were to be based on a business deal. The romance of it.
Tony wasn't an unlikable person by any means; a genius, somewhat charming in his own slightly arrogant way, he even made for an entertaining company at times. Nevertheless, your affections for him couldn't begin to even hope to grow beyond friendship. On top of that, it just happened to come that while he was meant to be in the charge of to-be-his company, his interest laid further in the progress of technology itself, in designing things, rather than in attending board meetings.
In other words; Pepper would have been a better match for Tony, much better equipped to lead an enterprise than you and Tony together and oh, let's not forget, her feelings for Tony went beyond friendly, unlike yours. And they were mutual.
But here you were, sitting through another forcefully polite dinner with the Starks and you wanted to be anywhere but here-- you wanted to be somewhere where you could actually breathe.
As you inhaled shakily and possibly too loud for a lady, your sister Sharon shot you a scolding look. You wanted to scream. However, like the well-mannered girl you were, you fixed a smile for your guests instead and engaged in meaningless conversation until it was time to prepare for bed; you let Anthony kiss your knuckles in goodbye and ignored your father's pleased smile that had your chest constricted, your stomach full of ice cubes instead of the butterflies you were supposed to feel when being with your future husband.
Your mother made a joke about Tony soon kissing a ring on your hand and you closed your eyes, swallowing the panic that didn't leave you until the early hours of the morning, causing you to lose sleep.
Seeing your own exhausted expression in the mirror at the crack of dawn, you came to a decision.
You were to escape the tight bodice of your glamorous life if even for a minute.
And you were sure that your best friend, who happened to live closer to normal part of the city, was about to help you.
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The bell jingled as you entered the diner, black and white tile floor resembling a chessboard, albeit slightly shabby against your heels clicking with each step.
Maximoff's the place was called and besides the funky chessboard floor, the interior was in warm colours, walls painted apricot, the counters, bar, tables, stools and chairs in caramel tones. Your lips automatically spread in a smile as you looked around, heading to the counter built right next to a bar, your eyes running over the specials of the day. As most of the names didn't feel familiar, you took a mental note to kiss Pepper's hands once you would reunite in the gallery where she was momentarily alone, providing you an alibi while you sneaked out.
"What's a pretty thing like ya' doin' here? Ya' lost, dollface?" a male voice startled you and your head snapped the direction it came from, finding a man dressed in a short-sleeved shirt with a strange logo of an eagle on his pocket and jeans. Chin-length brown hair framed his face, stubble rounding his smirking lips, his pale blue-grey eyes fixed on you.
He didn't seem like he wanted to harm you, but the way he talked seemed strange and the fact you weren't even sure if he talked to you made you uneasy. Dollface? Who called a woman that? Who called that anyone for that matter?
You smiled at him reluctantly, your heart speeding up. A sigh sounded next to him, out of your view, and another man spoke up, scolding the brunet.
"Lay off, Buck. You're scaring the dame."
The owner of the voice leaned away from the bar, his kind blue eyes and inviting expression causing your breath to hitch. Gosh, he was pretty with that subtle smile and ruffled blond hair. You figured they were colleagues since he was dressed in the same manner. You felt a bit inappropriate in your almost knee-length sunflower dress; you were sticking out like a sore thumb. The women in this diner sure weren't dressed like you.
"Do you need any help?" the blond asked, his tone gentler and less challenging than Buck's, , instantly putting you at ease; well, as much at ease as you could feel visiting a downtown diner for the first time, on your own, no less.
Your smile grew firmer, more confident, as you beckoned towards the menu above.
"Uhm... perhaps with picking the meal?"
The brunet raised a curious eyebrow at your question. "You want to eat here?"
Yes, you were definitely sticking out and you weren't the only one to take notice.
"...yes."
Nervous under his gaze, your eyes flickered to the blond, who seemed equally surprised, tilting his head aside.
"Well, what do you have in mind?" he asked simply.
You only shrugged in response and the brunet rolled his eyes and sighed, wiping his fingers to the napkin near his empty plate.
"Looks like I'm not needed here," he grumbled and rose to his feet, patting his friend's shoulder. "Just remember, Stevie, boss' gonna kill ya' if you're more than half an hour late."
What did that mean?
"Noted," Stevie huffed a laugh and waved him off.
"Better get outta here sooner than later, can't run as fast as Maximoff-"
"Yeah, yeah-"
"I better heard that name in a compliment!" a female voice from the door with 'personnel only' behind the counter suddenly called out, once again starling you.
"Sure thing, Mrs.M! See ya'!" Buck shouted right back at her as he jogged to the door and you noticed that the woman behind the counter and Stevie weren't the only ones with their eyes on you, the realization making you shiver on the inside.
"You know what? Let's sit somewhere else, everyone's staring. You can check out the complete menu and the waitress will come to us," the blond offered, already standing up and beckoning to one of the booths.
You felt yourself relax, the ever-present smile on his lips assuring you he had no malicious intent – or you hoped so.
"Sure. Thank you."
You seated yourself opposite to him, hidden from the majority of the prying eyes as he pushed the menu your way.
"I honestly have no idea what most of this means," you admitted before even opening the menu, watching the relaxed aura around Stevie instead as he all but melted into the cushions. It bugged you in a way, seeing as his friend had made a certain remark earlier. "...no one is going to try and kill you, right? I would hate to-"
He barked a laugh, small wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes and your heart skipped a beat, mesmerized when you simultaneously noticed that his nose was dusted with freckles. He was such a handsome man and he radiated pure amusement as he laughed, simply and carefree. Despite being ashamed at being the source of his amusement, you marvelled at the fact you were the cause of the happy sound.
"Ya' think 'dat-- that here downtown, people get iced for being late for work? Is 'dat the bullshit they feed ya'?" You blinked at his words, unsure you understood his strange lingo. Stevie shook his head, the corner of his lips still twitching. "I meant killed. And nonsense, the nonsense they feed you."
"They mostly don't feed me anything about downtown and what life really is here..." you confessed with a sigh, spotting the woman from behind the counter making her way to you, red apron swinging a bit with her step.
"Good morning, almost afternoon! Oh, Steve, some dame you have here! Finally! Not sure we have enough fancy for her though," she greeted you enthusiastically, her speech ending with a slight thoughtful pout.
You swallowed the indignation at her assumption and smiled at her. "I... um, I don't need anything fancy, madam. At all, actually."
"You heard that? Madam! You keep this one close, Steve!"
"Hey! I'm polite!" the blond protested, a twinkle of humour in his eye. "Can we have the least fancy thing for the lady, then? And a strawberry milkshake? Ya' alright with strawberries? It's the best one..."
The woman, Mrs.M as Buck had called her, wrote down the order in her little notepad when you only nodded, dumb-struck when Stevie – Steve? – ordered for you. "Coming right up! You want anything else, Stevie?
"Just a refill, please?" he looked up pleadingly and the woman sighed, patting his head.
"You're addicted, hon, I feel sorry for your stomach. I'll bring the pot."
"You're an angel, Anna."
"Yeah, yeah..." she mumbled as she walked away.
Steve laid his very much muscular forearms on the table, leaning in, giving you his undivided attention. "So... what's your name, doll?"
Unlike with Bucky, Steve's endearment somehow made your belly warm, your gaze lowering at his soft tone. You introduced yourself quietly and forced yourself to look up again – you were not raised by wolves, after all – and offered him a hand to shake, rising from your seat just a inch.
To your surprise, your companion gently took your fingers and turned your hand, kissing the back of it. As in, actually kissing it, his lips brushing your skin, his gaze locked with yours, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your rear fall back into your seat in surprise.
Who knew the downtown boys could be so charming?
"Pretty name for a pretty gal," he commented. "So, what brings ya' here?"
"...lunch? I told you?"
He clicked his tongue discontentedly at your poor excuse – it wasn't exactly a lie, but... "Bad liar. Kinda like me."
Was that right? Was he as innocent and honest as his eyes had been telling you ever since you noticed him behind Bucky? So far, he was nothing but nice to you. He could be your partner in crime – and you don't lie to partners, especially when you're a bad liar in the first place. You shifted in your seat, inhaled deeply and told him your dark secret.
"I just... I needed a change of scenery."
His smile turned into a solid grin, mischief playing in his blue irises now, accenting the drop of green in them you hadn't noticed before. "Well... looks like ya' came to the right place."
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One of the things Steve really liked about Maximoff's was the domestic atmosphere. It was a family diner, one started by immigrants and yet not missing anything from the American way anyone could big mouth about. It was familial, relaxed yet with efficient staff and people practically knew each other by name – the regulars did at least.
Which meant that the stunning girl in sunflower dress who walked in wearing elegant high heels turned heads instantly, both in a good and bad way. Steve found the absurd figure both amusing and fascinating; she appeared utterly lost in her well-mannered way, her skirt brushed the tights just above her knees, catching an eye of me than one guy- and really, Steve had trouble not staring as well, but he at least attempted to.
Bucky, not so much.
Steve had to give it to her though – she was adorably startled when Buck opened his big mouth and tried to flirt with her... if that was what it was supposed to be, but she didn't run out of the door just yet, even trying for a polite talk.
Cute. How could Steve go back to work knowing this remarkable creature was in his favourite diner? They would eat her alive, serve her like the next special!
Alright, that was a bit of an overstatement, but still.
And now, seeing her eyes widen as Wanda, the owner's daughter and the twin sister to Steve's colleague, placed a huge hamburger in front of the woman who simply couldn't be from around here – uptown, if Steve guessed correctly – he knew he wouldn't miss it for the world.
Luckily for him, not missing it still meant keeping his job, because they didn't wait long. It was another thing Steve loved around here – they were quick, ready for the onslaught of hungry customers around noon, so ready that the pair barely exchanged few words before they were served food and the sinful strawberry milkshake—and thank fuck- coffee.
He sipped at the hot bitter liquid, hiding his smile at the curious, desperate and utterly adorable expression on the girl's face as she was trying to figure out how the hell she should eat that. But because he felt a bit sorry for her too – she never had a hamburger, had she, how was she even alive – he lowered the cup and took mercy upon her.
"Ya' just need to take it to your hands, bite and hope for the best that your cute dress won't get a new colour on it," Steve remarked, not bothering to keep a straight face. "Just dig in, uptown."
She huffed, clearly slightly irked at his jab, but obediently placed her fingers to the sides of the burger and brought it to her red-painted lips. Steve settled comfortably to his seat, a coffee and a free comedy show with the prettiest actress he had ever laid his eyes on playing right in front of him.
"So... why did ya' need a change?" he brought up after few moments, watching her reaction to the taste, a pleasant surprise on her face, a drop of grease in the corner of her lips. His fingers twitched on the cup with the need to wipe it away from her otherwise perfectly cleaned up face.
He liked her face – it wasn't hidden under tones of shiny coloured shit girl used these days.
She swallowed first, shaking her head, but never letting her food from her hands as if someone could steal it before she finished. Steve felt that on spiritual fucking level.
"It is a complicated issue," she said, dodging the question. Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes.
"Try me."
And with a sigh, she did, even when averting his gaze, lost in thought.
"You don't know what's like. All those... strained faces, smiling and nodding when asked to even if you don't agree... not even being able to scratch your nose during dinner without people looking at you like you insulted them, their children and grandchildren that aren't even born yet..."
Steve blinked at the waterfall of words, not expecting her to actually share that much. He only managed to stare at the embodiment of a good obedient uptown girl – minus the burger – while processing her words.
They sounded... not right. He never thought of it that way. His ma' worked tooth and nail to keep them fed and he gave up going to art school for the very same reason. Hearing this girl, who was probably blessed with enough money to bath in it, complain about her life... was strange and frankly insulting, but when he thought of it, she did list some quite unpleasant downsides.
Gee. What people did to keep the picture perfect up. Can't scratch her nose.
"Oh my, you must think I am a complete brat," she exclaimed into the silence that fell on their table and Steve winced, both startled and pleasantly surprised. The self-awareness in her. "Spoiled privileged girl who doesn't appreciate how lucky she is not having to work sixteen hours a day to feed herself and her family. Gosh, I am a terrible person, I'm sorry for rambling."
Seeing her so self-depreciating caused a smile to spread on Steve's face once more. Self-awareness indeed, realization in the purest form.
Where the hell did she come from?
She was... an odd egg, that was for sure. Steve certainly liked that and he hated seeing her with her lips turned downwards; so he spoke what was on his mind, as he always did.
"No... no. I think I understand... to a point."
"Likely story," she uttered, taking an angry bite of the hamburger.
So fucking adorable when angry – if that was what she called it. Steve could kiss that pouty lip of hers.
"I do!" he protested, raising his hands palms up and gesturing to her subtly to show he saw her point. "And for the record, I promise you – you can scratch your nose all you want with me."
The smile she gave him could power a damn city, even if it wasn't necessarily radiant – just very, very sweet and almost shy. "Thank you, Steve. I—never mind. Do you... have family?"
Steve, taken aback by her question, hesitated only for a moment. She had been honest, he should too. And to his genuine surprise, he enjoyed talking to her, so why ruin that with making shit up?
"Nope. Ma' passed away few years ago. Dad's been gone a while. Just Buck and guys from my shop."
"I'm sorry. Really. I can't imagine."
He shrugged it off, ignoring the pang in his heart – the loss of his mother, only few years prior, still hurt. He missed her – she was an incredible woman and the kindest mother.
"That's life. But thanks. You?"
"Both parents and—" she started off reluctantly, but then downright sighed. "-a sister."
"Don't sound too excited about it," Steve remarked sarcastically and she sighed again, putting her unfinished food away, frowning at it. "Full already?"
"It's huge!"
"Gimme. No food comes to waste on my watch. Drink your milkshake," he hummed, pulling the plate to his side of the table, much to her obvious astonishment – and was that a hint of amusement? – and took a bite. She shook her head, wiping her mouth with careful taps of a napkin, but was totally grinning at his actions, which left him unfairly giddy. "Ya' were sayin'? About your family? More like your sister ya' don't exactly love?"
Steve almost choked when the smile slipped from her lips, mentally cursing himself.
"I know, I know! Once again – terrible person, I am aware. And I do like her, she's family," she said quickly as if to save the situation and prove she could treat her sister properly. Steve found the 'she's a family' a bit of a learned phrase, utter shit, but he'd listen to more. "It's just... Sharon... she's the younger sister, but she is... perfect. Everyone thinks so. And she is! I swear I am not jealous, but... I wish I had more of a sister and less of an omnipresent perfect lady to tell me my hair doesn't look good today at every occasion."
Steve deliberately took a long nice look at her hairstyle. There was not one hair out of place on her head. She had some sort of an elaborate braid on her head Steve couldn't hope to understand, making her look like a princess – well, kinda like a queen even, but her young face and playful and elegant dress wouldn't make for a serious and grey sovereign. Princess it was.
"Was 'dat today?" Steve asked, wiping his fingers to a napkin as he finished her meal and took a large gulp of coffee.
"Yes... again."
His eyebrow slowly rose, sceptical and pitying. And kinda mad at people who ever told her she was anything but perfect. Beautiful. Stunning. Adorable.
"Well, no offence, doll, but your sis sounds like she should ease up on the bitch juice and have her eyes checked. Your hair's fine, this whole..." he gestured vaguely to her head, "complicated thing ya' did with it, is pretty like the rest of ya'."
He should probably ease up on the compliments, but he couldn't help himself. She seemed flustered at it and he loved it. She was cute. Her only flaw was that her hair wasn't loose – Steve would like to see what she looked like, wild hair to run fingers through--
"...thank you. What is, eh, bitch juice?"
Steve chuckled when called out on his mistake. "Nothing really, means she shouldn't be mean to ya'. Probably shouldn't say 'dat home, tho."
Her smile made its return, sweet, shy and happy as she learned something new. "I will keep it in mind. Thank you for sweeping in, taking me under your wing here. You are a great company. I like you."
Steve would deny it till the day he'd die, but that moment, his chest puffed with fucking pride. She liked him. Take that, Barnes! Take that, uptown snobs! She liked HIM.
"Well, if ya' ever come to downtown ever again-" he sort-of joked, the realization that this was very likely to be a one-time thing settling heavy in his stomach.
He wasn't kidding anyone – he liked her too. A lot. Even when she was bitching; or maybe because of that, in addition to her 100% cutesy and pretty face... and figure.
"Would you meet me?" she asked excitedly, eyes lighting up with joy, which... Steve didn't see coming.
"Uhm-- sure. If ya' wanted."
"Next Tuesday? What time?" she pried, sipping happily at the remnants of her milkshake. Nope, not the visual he needed—dammit.
Wait, what did she just say?
"You're serious?" he asked incredulously, earning a shrug and a soft smile.
"You are funny and nice... and handsome." Well, his ego just levitated through the ceiling, he wasn't gonna lie- "I told you I liked you. Does that... mean something different here?"
He felt his lips curl up in a gentle smile at her slight confusion. She sounded so innocent. Steve's heart could melt – and she already had him wrapped around her finger, which he surprisingly didn't mind.
"No, doll, means the same thing. I like you too," he assured her. "Gotta run, tho. Ya' get home alright?"
"Yes. I only have to walk to the gallery nearby. I should go too.... Do I pay at the counter or somewhere-?"
"Nope. I do," Steve interrupter her inspection of the diner and she swiftly rose to her feet.
"Oh no, I couldn't possibly-"
"Lemme treat a pretty girl, 'k?"
The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of them – but if he had, his reaction would be exactly the same. This might have not been a proper date, but no matter how much more money she no doubt had, Steve's ma' would box his ear if he let the lady pay.
The fact she casted her gaze down, shy at his supposed chivalry, was only a pleasant bonus. He could kiss her at that moment, so friggin' beautiful and shy, and possibly interested.
"You say that a lot," she whispered, glancing up at him from under her long eyelashes, tiny smile playing on her lips.
Steve shrugged it off and headed for the counter before he could act on impulse and actually pull her in to smack his mouth to hers.
"Just sayin' the truth. Six p.m. works for ya'?"
She hummed as he paid for her and his coffee. "I will make it work."
That was good enough for him as he offered this very place to meet.
Once they left the diner, she managed to take him aback once more when she rose to her tiptoes – a heroic act in her pumps – and pressed a soft chaste kiss on his cheek before saying a simple goodbye and began to walk the opposite direction than him.
Steve was grinning like a fool for the rest of the day and not even Bucky's wiggling eyebrows could ruin his mood.
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Sleepovers were for children, you had been told by your mother more than once; so you claimed that what you were going to do with Pepper would be a girls' night (women' night?) and she suddenly seemed ecstatic, because Pepper was a fashion goddess and you still had a lot to learn about being chic.
You didn't even care for the insult, as you were not about to spend time with your friend. No, Pepper was only kind enough to help you out and plot against the evil forces of uptown, covering for you while you'd be having a—a date with Steve. The week couldn't past fast enough.
But finally you were here, wearing a pink dress – if a bit too chaste, but practical for a summer evening – with decorative black buttons, short sleeves and a bow around your waist, hair styled by the 'fashion goddess' who lived up to her title and charmed two French braids on your head. You were nearly jumping on spot, looking around subtly from time to time – you still had two minutes to spare.
So you stood there, trying not to tap your foot – which was really tempting, the elegant flats with an inch-tall heel making tapping much more easier than your usual pumps – and politely smiled at each person passing you.
When you caught a glimpse of a tall blonde figure, your smile widened into an honest one. He was even more handsome than you remembered – and he reciprocated the smile upon seeing you, his eyes not-so-subtly travelling up and down your figure. He was wearing simple blue t-shirt, one that hugged his muscular figure tightly, causing your mind to wander into strange places, and a pair of jeans – a simple outfit that he clearly felt comfortable in, a backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders.
"Wow. I feel underdressed now. And we might have to change plans," he said upon greeting you, deep timber that haunted you in your sweetest dreams.
You subconsciously crumbled your skirt between your fingers, your smile faltering as you suddenly felt self-conscious and disappointed that you didn't dress to his liking – or to fittingly to his plans.
"Oh, no! Should I run and change?"
Steve instantly shook his head, taking a hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips. Your cheeks heated up, your heart speeding up at his affection.
"Absolutely not. You look beautiful," he opposed, giving you a once-over again, his blue eyes twinkling.
"Thank you. You too--handsome, I mean."
And he was. Gosh. And that ruffled hair of his-! How did you want to run your fingers through it—and not to give a damn about such action being inappropriate.
"Thanks. I—uh, I was plannin' for a small trip with... a bit of climbin', which was stupid, I know-" he stumbled over his words, scratching the back of neck sheepishly, clearly having absolutely no clue how giddy you had been – and still were – for spending the time with him in any form.
You cleared your throat. "How much climbing?"
"Not too much...? It would be safe, I promise. But I'm worried about your dress-"
"I'm not!" you blurted out, covering your mouth in embarrassment at your hastiness.
Steve didn't seem to mind; in fact, a slow mischievous grin spread on his lips, beckoning you to follow him.
"Then come with me if ya' wanna know what it's like to live."
The sentence was rather ironic; before you knew it, you were sitting nearly on the edge of a damn roof, precisely 37 storeys above the ground, on a building that wasn't even finished yet.
Apparently, Buck's – Bucky's – uncle worked as construction manager, which opened you the doors to one of the unfinished additions to New York's skyline. Some storeys you had to indeed climb, but with Steve's support, you had felt ridiculously safe, grateful for thinking to bring flats instead of usual attire – and the reward was absolutely worth it.
Seeing the sunset, sitting on a picnic blanket after finishing simple sandwiches and a lemonade, you felt like you had the world at your feet.
It was breath-taking, for the lack of better term, enough to bring tears to your eyes.
Never in your life you had felt so... light. So free. Despite the heights you found yourself in, you had never breathed more easily. And as sentimental it might sound... you were sure it didn't only went down to not being under scrutiny from your family and those bigheads who thought that they had a claim on the world, hence claim on you too-- no, you could tell with absolute certainty that at least part of this liberating feeling went down to the person sitting next to you, staring with you at the sunset and the lights of the city coming to life, flashing neons shining in the streets.
Your hand blindly reached for his, covering the back of it, feeling the slight roughness of his knuckles and skin – a hand of a workman. He didn't retreat, but you could feel his gaze shifting to you.
"Thank you for taking me here, Steve," you whispered, a tender breath of wind carrying your voice to a faraway place, to a dreamland. You couldn't tear your eyes from the marvellous scenery. "It's... it's so beautiful."
"Yeah," he murmured, his hand shifting under yours, escaping your hold, fingers running up your arms to nestle on your jaw, gently cradling, causing your breathing to hitch, your heart speeding up to a at least a hundred per minute. "You are, doll."
You turned to him, melting in his touch, and while you saw his face inching closer to yours, nerves working, regretting your inexperience, not for a split second you thought of retreating.
When Steve's lips met yours, all rational thought left your mind, carried away by the sweet breeze of summer.
Girls' night never felt so magical.
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Notes:
If anyone is interested in what dresses I had in mind, links are in the comments.
Thank you for reading!