21.
Riddick: The Animal Unrestrained
The sun was setting on the ship currently registered as Tarsin's Chance. Riddick had put the ramp down and was watching the tarmac, trying not to give into the anxiety percolating deep within him. Jack should have been back before now, he thought for the umpteenth time. He growled low in his throat, wondering where the hell she was.
His day had been both productive and dissatisfying. He knew everything about Pete now, his full name, where he lived, his extensive rap sheet... the works. But other things hadn't gone well at all. He'd been forced to admit that his encounters with "Carolyn" no longer did nearly enough for him. They'd gone from poetic acts of fantasy-fulfillment to impersonal fucks. He couldn't even get off without imagining Jack in the woman's place any more.
He'd have to find a new outlet for his needs, and fast. They couldn't leave Troubadour until he knew for a fact that he was under control and wouldn't end up breaking down Jack's door some night and ravaging her.
One of the planet's fleet of taxis, he noted, was approaching the ship.
How much did she buy? he thought with abrupt amusement. Five thousand New Francs would buy a lot, he realized suddenly. He wasn't all that accustomed to the acquisition of material possessions and most of his money went toward much rarer, more expensive items. High-tech black-ops gear from the black market, for instance. Even if he'd had a clue what girls liked to buy, he figured this would have taken him by surprise.
The cab pulled up and the driver began to unload. Jack emerged, glanced at the ship, and waved cheerfully. As the bags and boxes began to pile up, Riddick found himself shaking his head and chuckling.
He walked down the ramp and approached the cab, where Jack was now paying the driver and punching in a generous tip. As the vehicle pulled away and she turned toward him, he raised an eyebrow and nodded at the enormous pile of merchandise.
"How many stores did you clean out, kid?"
She laughed and began gathering up bags. He moved to help her, taking several of the largest, heaviest packages. They ferried the things inside and he handed them up to her before joining her in the living quarters level.
"You know, I was starting to get worried about you." He glanced at his chrono. "You almost didn't get here before Pete's final shift ended."
Her smile faltered for a second but she hoisted it back into place. Poor girl. He wasn't sure whether it was Pete's treatment of her or his imminent death that was bothering her. Neither one could be pleasant for her to consider.
She was wearing a new perfume. He'd noticed it when they'd been carrying the packages in. Whatever it was, he liked it. It made her smell more like herself than ever, oddly enough. Her scent had subtly changed in the last few days, he'd noticed, becoming more... more female. This new addition to the mix was intoxicating.
If she wore this around him all the time he was going to have a really hard time keeping his hands off of her.
"I like that perfume. Did you buy it, or just try it on?" He tried to keep the comment as offhand as he could. It was hard to keep from saying what he really wanted to: will you always smell this fuckable?
She looked delighted that he'd noticed. "I bought it! Isn't it wonderful? It was my mom's favorite."
"What's it called?" He helped her carry her packages into her room and pile them onto her bed.
"Charmante. My mom used to get it shipped to her from New Belgium; that's where she came from."
Riddick leaned against her door and smiled. He had to physically restrain himself, for a moment, from moving to her side and engulfing her in his arms so he could inhale her scent and lose himself in it. He wondered if it had driven Jack's father to distraction on the mother the way it already was driving him on the daughter.
"It's very pretty."
"I thought so. I was thrilled to find it, but I guess I should have expected it on a planet full of Francophiles. You know what I saw in one of the stores? A picture of Paris, of all things!" She glanced over at him and saw his confusion.
"Why would that be unusual?" he asked. Pictures of the Eiffel Tower abounded throughout the town.
"Not the city, sorry... Paris Ogilvie. The guy we met on the Hunter-Gratzner. This one curio shop had his picture up, a little 'In Memory Of' plaque, you know the type? Seems he supplied them with all kinds of fun things. I got some earrings there. Expensive stuff."
She was chattering, trying to stall for time before he had to leave and begin his killing ways. Poor little thing. He moved to her side and rested his hand on her shoulder.
"I have to go now, Jack." He said it as gently as he could and felt her heavy sigh in response. She turned and put her arms around him, resting her head against his chest for a moment.
"Don't get caught," she finally said in a ragged whisper as she stepped back. He tilted her face up and kissed her forehead.
"Never happen," he answered softly, before leaving her room.
He locked the ship up and headed out into the darkening streets of New Paris, Troubadour's capital city. A town where anything could be bought or sold, and human life was the cheapest commodity... and where a particular human life would come to a bloody end tonight.
It didn't take him long at all to find his quarry, and in the process he learned a new facet of Pete the Perv's sickness. Pete was stalking a young woman from bar to bar, obsessively following her through the thronging crowds of early-evening revelers. It was the redhead from the bar, he realized.
Riddick wondered how often he did this, and what might normally have happened to the hapless lady if he hadn't been about to hijack Pete's evening plans on this night. He decided to let the play unfold. If Pete actually planned to commit a crime, he'd make it so easy for Riddick to catch him; he'd want a secluded place to make his move, after all. Perfect.
He stalked the stalker to a deserted alley off of a sparsely-populated side street. Pete had gotten ahead of his target. Now he planned to catch her and drag her into the dark passageway when she passed. Riddick waited until all of Pete's attention was focused on the approaching woman before he moved.
The woman never saw either one of them. She never knew how close she had come to a night of horror. Riddick clapped his hand over Pete's mouth and lifted the man off of the ground, dragging him back into the depths of the alley. He slammed him hard against the wall, knocking the breath out of him.
"Hey there, Pete," he whispered, baring his teeth. "Remember me?"
He saw the man's eyes go wide. As feeling returned to the hapless orderly's diaphragm and he began to draw breath, Riddick slammed one fist directly into his stomach. Pete doubled up around his fist, gagging, still unable to breathe. Two more quick blows and he was unconscious.
Riddick dragged him back behind a dumpster, to the little "love nest" that he'd watched Pete preparing for his target. The spot had been used several times before, he noted with disgust. Pete was quite something. Nobody was going to miss him once he was dead. Certainly not the women he'd brought here. If they were still alive.
Rummaging through the man's clothes, he quickly realized that none of them were.
"Oh, Pete, Pete, Pete..." he chuckled softly. "I think I'm going to really enjoy this."
Riddick had the man trussed up before he regained consciousness, and had put a bit in the man's mouth. He'd swiped it from the clinic before he and Jack checked out. Now he watched the orderly's eyes flutter open, grinning.
"You're really something, guy," he remarked conversationally. "Here I thought you were just a sicko who made the mistake of touching my girl, and now I find out you're a fuckin' trophy hunter. You know, when the cops find you, these little goodies of yours are going to solve a lot of their most puzzling cases."
He watched Pete's reaction. The man still didn't get it.
"Oh relax, Pete, you're not gonna go to jail." He leaned in, whispering in the man's ear. "You'll be dead long before they find you. Well, not too long. I think there's a whole bunch of women on the other side of the grave who will appreciate what I'm going to do to you first."
He unsheathed a knife and examined it for a moment, letting it catch the light and transfix Pete's attention. He glanced at the man after a time and grinned.
"It's a nice one, isn't it? Surgically precise, the way I like 'em. You know all about that, don't you? I'm almost tempted to use one of your own knives on you, you know. But this one..." He smiled fondly. "This one is special. I haven't used it in four years, since the last time I paid someone back for hurting my girl."
He smiled down at the man, who was now shaking.
"Oh yeah. It's a simple rule. You hurt what I love, I hurt what you love. Problem is, Pete, you don't love anything, do you? Except yourself, of course. Guess I'll have to make do with that, won't I? Last guy who messed with my girl lost his twelve best students." He leaned in close and whispered in Pete's ear. "I always give back with interest, you see."
With deliberate gentleness, he lifted Pete's shirt away from his belly. He smiled almost-kindly at the pathetic human being below him.
"They were luckier than you, though. I'd already snapped their necks by the time I did this to them. But that's because they weren't the ones who'd hurt her. You did. You get to pay the full price."
He made three clean cuts on Pete's abdomen, each every bit as surgically precise as the knife he used to make them. Pete was gagging, writhing.
"Careful, Pete, you don't want me to damage any organs, now do you?" He moved the skin aside and began slicing through the membrane beneath. Finally he reached his destination.
"There we go!" He grinned wolfishly into Pete's eyes. "Did you know that you have twenty to twenty-three feet of small intestine? Amazing, isn't it? But I forgot, you work in a medical clinic, of course you know that. I wonder how many times I can wrap it around your neck."
Smiling into Pete's eyes, he carefully reached into the open cavity. He intended to do this without even the slightest bit of damage to the organs themselves. It was so much better that way; Pete would last so much longer. "Let's find out, shall we?"
Hours later, the first blushes of dawn began to appear in the sky of New Paris. Riddick felt the change in the air. Time to end the fun.
He took a small swig from the bottle of Peppermint Schnapps he'd brought with him, and walked over to Pete.
"Hey. Pete. You want a sip? One last little drink before we go our separate ways?" He grinned into the man's pain-glazed eyes. "You're not passing out on me, are you? You want to be here for the denouement, you know. Appropriate term isn't it? 'Specially on a planet like this. Where you from originally, Pete? You're not a local."
He studied Pete for a long moment. The man's defiance had long since vanished, of course. He was barely clinging to life at this point, but he was still clinging, still aware.
"Oh, come on, Pete. How many planets have you pulled this shit on, anyway? How many worlds have Jane Does with missing pieces in their morgues thanks to you? Hmm?"
With the bit in his mouth, Pete couldn't actually answer. Riddick wasn't really interested in anything the man would have to say, anyway.
"Well, it's been fun, boy, but I've gotta get back to Rebecca. Not that her name's really Rebecca, of course. Mine isn't Colin. I thought I'd let you know 'cuz maybe it'd make your ride to Hell a little easier, knowing who you fucked with."
He took the knife back out, pressing the tip against the underside of Pete's chin, right above the grisly scarf he'd wrapped around his neck, and leaned in. He'd whisper the final answer into Pete's ear.
"You poor, stupid kid," he chuckled. "Nobody fucks with Richard B. Riddick and walks away from it."
Horrified comprehension dawned in the orderly's dazed eyes seconds before Riddick jammed the knife up into his brain.
He took a moment to clean the blood off of his hands and then left the alleyway. He felt good, burning with life, his own and the one he'd just stolen. That kill had been every bit as good as he'd hoped. Better. Jack hadn't been the only one he'd avenged in the process.
What delicious irony. That was the best part of all.
He showered upon his arrival at the ship. He'd no more sit down to breakfast with Jack with Pete's blood on him than another woman's scent. The clothes and hairpieces that had belonged to "Colin Tarsin" he bagged. He'd make sure to incinerate them later.
By the time Jack emerged yawning from her room, he had their breakfast on the table. He smiled at her and didn't mention the events of his night. She already knew more than she wanted to.
"So now what?" she finally asked.
"Well, we're going to stay on Troubadour for a bit longer, but not under our current aliases, obviously. So... we're going to switch to a different space port later today." He poured some more juice for both of them. "I'll need that card I gave you so I can reroute its balance to a different account. Rebecca Tarsin is about to cease to exist."
She grinned at him. "Sure." She pulled the card out from inside her shirt and handed it over. Smart girl, she'd anticipated him... damn, had she been keeping the card where he thought?
He took a moment to really look at her clothes. He suddenly thanked the sick fuck on high that there was a table between them so she couldn't see his abrupt response. The tight little top accentuated her high breasts entirely too well, filling his head with intensely carnal thoughts.
She can't possibly know the effect she's having on me, he reminded himself. Behave yourself, he added.
What he really wanted to do was pick her up and carry her into his bedroom. He forced himself to swallow and return to eating.
Life with Jack was sure going to be complicated, he thought ruefully.
He sat back from the table once he was back under control, taking a moment to stretch. Once they took off and he got them in their orbit he needed to catch up on his sleep... what--
Jack had jumped into his lap and put her hands on his shoulders. She was facing him, straddling his legs. The smile she gave him was pure, innocent sweetness. "So who are we going to be now?"
The images that flashed through his mind were vivid and intense. He saw himself grabbing her hips and pulling her against him, grinding himself against her spread crotch and burying his face between her breasts, carrying her into his room and ripping her new clothes clean off of her body--
Oh god, no, oh no Jack...
The scent of her was overwhelming. In another moment he was going to... going to...
His hands went to her waist and he gently lifted her, pushing her backward off of his legs. He steadied her and stood up from his chair as well, taking a step back from her.
"Jack, you can't sit on me like that."
She looked confused, completely oblivious to the mayhem she'd almost unleashed. "Why?"
"It's just..." He shook his head, wishing he could explain, not daring to. "It's not appropriate."
He turned, leaving the table and moving over to the cockpit. He started the preflight checks.
Behind him he could hear Jack clearing the table. After a moment, she cleared her throat. "Um... I'm gonna make sure everything in my room is... locked down for takeoff. That's where I'll be."
He heard her door shut, and took a moment to close his eyes and let out a long, ragged sigh.
Oh Jack, you have no idea how close to the brink you just took me. I hope you never find out.
22.
Jack: Unrequited
"Not appropriate." The words had struck at Jack like an indictment.
She'd cleared the table in a huge rush and retreated to her room as quickly as she could manage. Now she flung herself down on her bed, choking on that one devastating phrase.
Stupid! she thought, her eyes stinging. I'm so fucking stupid...
At least, she consoled herself, he didn't realize the move had been intentional. She'd managed to play dumb fast enough, the moment she'd seen the censure in his gaze. She'd learned long, long ago how to strike exactly the right sort of "who-me?" pose of confused innocence to fool even the most suspicious of cops. It had come in useful on numerous occasions back in her street-urchin days.
She'd never thought she'd be using it on Riddick. For one thing, she'd always figured he'd see right through it. But he'd bought it. Thank God, he'd bought it.
She couldn't have stood it if he'd realized what she'd been trying to do when he rebuffed her. She couldn't have taken the look of pity that would have followed.
Back at the shelter the other girls had believed that she'd been his sex toy. They'd whispered, when they thought she wasn't around to hear, about how she must have traded her "services" to him in exchange for his protection. They'd speculated extensively on what sorts of things he'd made her do. At the time, she'd eavesdropped out of amused, purely intellectual curiosity. Some of the acts they'd come up with had been extremely inventive. A few, she was sure, were physically impossible.
One girl had actually gotten up the nerve to ask her. She could still remember the answer she'd given, with her head held proudly and a knowing, defiant smile on her face:
"I did everything he wanted me to... and I loved everything he did to me."
Too bad both, in reality, had been a big, fat Nothing.
Face it, "Kid," she told herself sourly. He just LJBF'd you.
The boys she'd hung with in seedy spaceports around the Known Systems had all talked about The Dreaded LJBF, the deadliest four words any girl could say to a guy: "Let's Just Be Friends." She'd never really been able to understand why hearing it would be so painful.
At the time, she'd told herself it was probably a "guy thing," something she would have to pretend to understand for the sake of her masquerade, but never would truly comprehend. Now she knew so much better.
Oh God, did it hurt. He hadn't actually said it, but the unspoken version was every bit as searing.
"The worst part," Ben had commented, a week before she shipped out on the Hunter-Gratzner, "is having to watch her with other guys, knowing that she's just getting taken for a ride... again... and knowing that you could give her so much more if she'd just wake up..."
She dreaded the day Riddick got serious about someone. The day he brought the Love Of His Life home to meet his little kid sister. That would be the day her heart died completely.
She sighed morosely. She'd just have to learn how to hide it better.
The boys had been right, though. Once you knew how you felt about someone, hearing "I love you... as a friend" would never, ever be enough again. She wanted more, much more, but he wouldn't give it to her.
All those clothes... wasted. He hadn't even noticed how she looked. She bet if she pranced around naked in front of him he'd just stand there, shielded by his All-Seasons Riddick Cool, and give her a stern reprimand about how fucking not appropriate it was.
What did I expect? she thought bitterly. I'm just a kid to him. What could I possibly offer him that he couldn't get better elsewhere?
She had almost no experience, after all. What meager experience she did have was limited to such come-hither lessons as "how to hold still and not scream," a lesson she'd learned once and made sure she'd never have to repeat. Riddick was the first -- the only -- man she'd ever wanted. And, ironically, the man she could never have.
What was it she'd wanted him to say about the perfume, anyway? That if she wore it he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of her? Just because that's what her father had always said to her mother...
Stupid. Stupid.
She rolled over, pressing her face against her sheets. Sighing deeply, she tried to let go of the poisonous feelings welling up inside her. God, she hurt so much...
Fuck it, she decided. If he wasn't going to notice the clothes, there was no point in not wearing them. Let him be the only one who didn't notice her, dammit!
Let him try to tell her that they were "not appropriate." Let him tell her why. She was of legal age; if she wanted to wear "fuck-me" clothes it was her own goddamned business.
Not like he was gonna take her up on the offer, anyway.
The ship was powering up. He'd be launching soon. If she felt like being a good little apprentice spacer she should probably go out and sit in the copilot's seat. Maybe she would, if he came and asked her to, but she was too furious right now to face him without that invitation.
She sat up slowly and glanced around the room. She'd put away everything last night; there was nothing that actually needed to be locked down before takeoff. Besides, Riddick was one of the best pilots she'd ever seen. Nothing loose was going to fall anyway.
She lay back down and waited. Finally she felt the press of the planet's increasing gravity on her body. She closed her eyes, pretending that it was him. Imagining that it was the weight of him on top of her and nothing as mundane as escape velocity. If only... if only...
Well, she could still dream.
Finally the pressure abated and she felt a small thrill pass through her stomach as she experienced one fraction of a second of free-fall. Artificial gravity promptly kicked in, but she always loved that moment. It was the way Riddick made her feel.
Damn it, everything kept coming back to him!
She got out of her bed and walked over to the dresser, a mere two steps away, to examine herself in the mirror. She looked okay, no sign of her anguish. Good. She sure as hell didn't want him asking her what was wrong. She felt transparent enough as it was.
Practically in-fucking-visible.
She sighed, glaring into her own eyes. You know that's not true, Jack. He sees you. Not the way you hoped he would. But he sees you. And you know he loves you.
He'd loved her enough to kill people for her sake, after all. On their last day together, Imam had told her what he'd overheard of Riddick and Johns' final exchange before their fatal battle.
"Johns ordered Riddick to kill you, child," the gentle cleric had said. "He wanted to use your body to distract the planet's creatures from the rest of us. I know that Mr. Riddick wanted to kill him anyway, but I believe he did it as much for you as for himself."
She'd been shocked into silent stillnness by the revelation. Imam had reached out and taken her hand. "That is why I know you will be safe with him, little one. He will never let you come to harm. Go in peace with him, and know that you both will always have a home with me if you need it."
Like a father giving away a bride, she'd thought at the time. Now the irony of that thought rose up to strangle her.
Yes, fourteen of the notches on Riddick's belt were dedicated at least partly to her. He would kill for her, sure, but he was killing for a little girl who had long since grown up into something else that he was blind to.
The soft rap on her door startled her. "Jack?"
"Yeah?" Thank god, her voice sounded normal.
"I'm turning in. Think you can watch the lanes to make sure they stay clear? I'll be back out in a few hours."
"Sure, no problem." She sighed, opening her door after she was sure he'd stepped away from it. Riddick's door was closing as she emerged.
Moving to the cockpit, she deliberately took the seat he'd only just vacated. She would get a little vicarious pleasure, at least, out of the warmth and scent he'd left behind. She paused for a minute to study the course he'd programmed in.
The ship was curving out away from the planet, in a long, elliptical swing. When they came back in, it would appear that they had approached from the Cygnus systems, a hardscrabble part of the frontier. Nobody would expect them to have cargo. They would be returning from a trip of delivering such things to the pioneers, with empty holds and full coffers, ready to stock up again. An excellent cover.
Riddick had already changed the ship's electronic profile. It was now the Singing Swan, an appropriate if somewhat morbid name for a ship doing business in the Cygnus systems.
There was nothing she needed to do except watch for stray space junk crossing their path. The next several hours were going to be dull as hell.
Except... well, here she was, surrounded by his presence, his warmth... and she had said she could still dream, hadn't she?
She didn't close her eyes. She was, after all, on the job. But her mind superimposed other images over the starfield that stretched before her...
She was down in the cargo hold once more, spinning around to confront the possible intruder entering her new Captain's ship, armed with a blackjack. She stumbled and almost fell, dropping the weapon to the floor, when she saw Riddick standing before her, silver eyes glowing in the dim light.
"Not bad reflexes, kid," he growled softly once more, lips twitching into a tiny smile.
She flung herself forward, embracing him tightly. This time he returned her embrace, lifting her off of the floor.
"My god, Riddick, it's so good to see you again. I've missed you so much," she whispered against his shoulder.
"Not as much as I missed you, Babe," he whispered back. "I thought they'd killed you." He held her tightly against him, their bodies pressed together. Off-balance, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He chuckled and lifted her chin up so that they were face to face once more. His lips quirked again slightly before they descended and covered hers.
His kiss was thorough and electrifying, loosing energy throughout her body in great waves as he devoured her mouth. His hand on the small of her back pressed her into him as if he was trying to join their bodies by sheer pressure and force of will.
When he finally released her she was dizzy and needed his support to stand. He lowered her to her feet and led her back until she was against one of the ship's bulkheads. He gently turned her around to face it.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Darlin'," he smiled against her ear. "I just need to make sure you really still are my friend." His hands began moving across her body, ostensibly checking for weapons. But Jack, who had been frisked on no few occasions in her own small-time outlaw days, knew that no cop ever lingered quite the way he did...
His hands stroked their way down her sides to her hips before rising along her belly to her breasts. He pushed gently on each one with the palms of his hands, fingers dancing across the peaks, and laughed softly when she was unable to contain a moan in response.
Dropping back to her waist, his hands slid over to her left leg and began working sensuously down her thigh. At her knee, he let his fingers circle around her leg completely and continue down her calf to her ankle. As his hands rose back upward he pressed them both against the inside of her thigh. For a moment, one palm rested against her mons, cupping it. She was unable to stop her trembling as he repeated the procedure with her right leg.
Rising from his crouch, he pressed his body up against her back and put his arms around her. One hand rested possessively on her stomach, the other on her throat.
"Well, you're definitely not packing, kid, are you? Not even a pocket-knife. Hmm. Gonna have to teach you better habits than that. There's no telling who you might run into in a dark cargo bay." His voice was a sensual purr in her ear. "Still... you could be wired, couldn't you?"
The purr had dropped to a growl, intensifying the shivers wracking her body. He began to pull her clothes off of her, nonchalantly examining each article and running his hands along every inch of skin he'd exposed. He made her face the wall until he'd stripped her completely. Then he turned her around. His eyes passed admiringly over her, lingering on her breasts and her flawless abdomen.
"You sure grew up pretty, Jack," he commented with a rakish grin.
She tilted her head up and fixed his gleaming eyes with hers. "So what's next, a cavity search?"
A look of delight and almost-animalistic hunger dawned on Riddick's face. "What a delicious suggestion, Jack!"
He grasped her thighs in his large hands and lifted her up, pulling her legs around his waist again. She grabbed onto his shoulders to steady herself. Laughing, he played his fingers through her hair before grasping it and pulling her mouth against his once more. This time his tongue explored every recess and crevice within her mouth.
Finally he released her lips. "No contraband hidden in there. Let's see where else you might keep some..."
He carried her over to the mats by the dojo. Dropping to his knees, he lowered her onto the pads, on her back. With his hands, he kept her thighs spread wide. She watched in eager anticipation as his head dropped down and his lips brushed against--
"Jack."
Her eyes snapped open as a large finger prodded her shoulder. Riddick was standing over her, looking annoyed.
"You have a good nap, sleepy-head?" he asked sarcastically. He nodded toward the front viewscreen she was supposed to be watching.
Heat blossomed on her face. She hoped he thought she was embarrassed over her lapse. The dream had been so intense, so vivid...
"Sorry," she muttered sheepishly, sitting up and scooting out of his chair. "I didn't sleep very well last night."
She saw the muscles of his face twitch subtly in what, for Riddick, passed for a wince. He'd misinterpreted her remark. "You know I had to take him out, Jack. Turns out what he was doing to you and the others at the clinic was only the tip of a very gruesome iceberg. You don't even want to know what else he was doing."
No, I don't, she thought. But I'm glad you think that's why I couldn't sleep. It's a reason you can respect, at least.
The truth, she reflected as she strapped herself into the copilot's chair, was much more pathetic.
Staring out at the approaching planetary sphere in front of them, as they coasted into hailing range of Troubadour's space traffic control, she let her eyes take quick glances at the beautiful, unattainable man working beside her.
I couldn't sleep because I was alone. I couldn't sleep because you weren't holding me. She was careful not to release the grieving sigh lodged in her chest. Riddick would hear it if she did. He might even know what it meant. She couldn't stand it if he discovered her oh-so-pathetic little secret.
I couldn't sleep because I couldn't stop thinking about you.