The Star (Charleston Condors Book 1)
The Star: Chapter 3

IT WAS POURING RAIN when Riley landed in Charleston.

He’d gotten exactly three texts from Landry.

The first had been an awkward offer for Riley to stay with him, stilted and formal. Riley had stared at the message on his phone for ages, remembering what Paige had predicted—I give you two weeks before you’re fucking—and decided, finally, to accept because Aidan wouldn’t let him live it down if he declined, and also because if Landry continued to be this awkward maybe Paige would be wrong after all.

Don’t be stupid. You don’t really want Paige to be wrong.

He didn’t. But if they did end up fucking, Riley didn’t know what he was gonna do about that either.

Landry’s second message read: Glad you’re coming here.

Still painfully awkward, Riley decided. Were things going to be this difficult in person? He hoped not. He had a feeling Landry’s awkwardness wasn’t because Riley had flirted with him but because he’d liked it.

When do you get in? The next sentence read. Aidan says late tomorrow night, but I thought I’d check with you.

Riley sighed. Paige wasn’t wrong about needing to tell Aidan to fuck off, either.

He did. But the funny thing was, he could tell just about anyone else to take their bullshit and shove it up their ass, but not Aidan.

Something like that, Riley texted back.

Landry’s answer showed up almost immediately. Should be back from practice by then. But here’s the door code, just in case. A string of digits followed.

Riley, who actually hadn’t booked his plane ticket yet, decided then he wouldn’t be showing up late.

Instead, he’d show up earlier, while Landry was at practice, and get settled in to save them both the painful fumbling of Landry trying to show him around the house.

He pulled the hood over his head and shifted his big duffel on one shoulder as he pulled out his phone and typed in the code Landry had sent him into the panel in the front door.

Over the years, Riley had gleaned a lot of info about the Banks family from shit Aidan had said and some very ill-advised Google searching when he couldn’t resist the urge any longer.

He’d heard plenty from Aidan about how they’d grown up lower-middle-class in Texas. That their family was tight-knit, even now, living on opposite sides of the country.

He knew Logan, the middle brother, played for the Miami Piranhas now and had bought a house just outside of downtown, and he lived there with his boyfriend, the Piranhas’ kicker.

So Riley wasn’t surprised when he saw the townhouse Landry had rented in Charleston. It wasn’t downtown, but close enough to both the practice facility and the stadium, tucked into a homey-looking neighborhood, with basketball hoops next to driveways and bicycles abandoned in front yards.

Maybe the NFL life was, by definition, temporary. But Landry, with his family background, would want something semi-permanent. Thus, this well-maintained but still clearly lived-in townhouse, not the flashy sort of penthouse apartment downtown you might expect someone pulling in his kind of salary to rent.

The foyer was hardwood, polished, and shiny under the light Riley flipped on. He slipped off his shoes, wet nearly all the way through, keeping them on the mat by the front door.

The walls were painted a soft creamy yellow, and Riley passed by the staircase that rose from the foyer and headed towards the back of the main floor. There was a kitchen with ivory cabinets and stone countertops, a single light burning over the sink.

A quick look in Landry’s fridge proved he lived pretty much the same way Aidan did. There was a stack of prepared meals on the right, and on the left, eggs and milk. And on the counter, ingredients for protein shakes sat next to a high-tech blender.

Riley, whom everyone was sure was built too small and had spent the last two years bulking up his frame, drank his own share of protein shakes. But he liked to cook, too.

He’d have to figure out grocery delivery here and soon, or else he’d be starving.

The living room had the requisite enormous TV and a big couch stretched out in front of it. The only personal touch was a framed picture on the coffee table of the Banks family. Even though it felt like he’d nearly memorized their faces by this point, Riley leaned down and peered closer at the photograph.

With his long blond hair and enormous frame, Landry didn’t quite look like he belonged to the rest of the family, but Riley kept looking and realized it was the combination of Landry’s shoulder-length hair and his lack of tattoos. With shorter hair, he’d look like a mix of Logan and Levi. Landry’s twin, Lyla, older by mere minutes, had darker hair and a smile Riley recognized all too well.

Feeling caught by his intense study of the photo, Riley backtracked and went up the stairs, pulling his duffel back over his shoulder.

The first door was a bathroom, gleaming and neat, probably unused since Landry had moved in. Which meant that the door next to it was probably his room. But he skipped it and walked to the open door at the end of the hallway.

If he didn’t want me to see his room, he should’ve closed the door, Riley reasoned, even though he knew that was a shitty excuse.

But there wasn’t anything in Landry’s room that told him anything at all. It had a big bed—understandable considering Landry’s height—covered in a stone-colored comforter. The furniture was dark wood, clearly quality pieces despite their stark lines. He flicked on a lamp by the bed and stared at it for longer than he felt comfortable admitting, even though that was only between him and the empty charging station sitting next to the lamp.

Landry’s bathroom was also spotless and had not only a huge freaking shower in the corner of the tiled room but an even bigger bathtub. Two people—him and me, Riley’s brain whispered—could fit into that tub.

Which was how he knew it was time to move on.

His own room was spacious, too, and if Riley wasn’t mistaken, he caught the scent of a brand-new mattress the moment he opened the door.

Something in his insides cramped. If he was right, Landry had bought him that bed.

It wasn’t the money. Landry had more than he knew what to do with. It was the fact Landry had taken time out of his schedule to go mattress shopping and then had picked this one just for him.

Riley unpacked his duffel. There was a spacious walk-in closet and even an unopened pack of hangers in it.

Then he went downstairs, pulled out his phone, and found a grocery store that delivered, even in the middle of a late summer rainstorm.

While he waited for the groceries, he flicked on the lights in the kitchen, opening a few random drawers and cabinets, taking stock of what Landry had and what he didn’t. The bare minimum was the answer. Well, Riley would have to invest in a few pots and pans if he intended to cook the way he wanted to.

His stomach grumbled, and the grocery store app predicted the groceries were still an hour out, so he decided Landry wouldn’t mind if he made himself a shake.

Riley found the straws in a drawer near the blender and laughed out loud as he grabbed one. They were all brightly colored and had little sayings engraved in gold on them. One said, You go, girl! And another, Conquer today!

He picked out a bright yellow one emblazoned with, Love life!

If Riley had to bet, these would be Lyla’s contribution to his brother’s household.

After sucking down half the shake, he set the glass on the counter. It was so quiet in this house, except for the rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain on the roof.

Glancing at his smartwatch, he knew it would still be at least an hour before Landry was home, and spotting the bluetooth speaker tucked away behind the salt and pepper shakers on the kitchen table, he hooked his phone up and pulled up his favorite playlist. Beyonce was always the answer when it was way too quiet.

The first sign Landry had that something wasn’t right was the fact his townhouse was freaking lit up like it was the middle of the day. The second was the music pouring out of the kitchen.

The third?

Had his back to Landry, wearing a pair of old, worn-out athletic shorts that were at least a size too small, clinging to his hips and the curves of his ass.

The ass that was currently grinding and flexing to the heavy bass of the music.

Landry’s mouth went totally dry.

He’d come home early to prevent things from being awkward between him and Riley.

One side of his brain wondered, what’s Riley doing here already, and why is he dancing in my kitchen?

Riley raised his arms, and his t-shirt, already cropped short, rode up, exposing the smooth, muscular planes of his back.

The other part of his brain—the uncooperative part—insisted it didn’t matter why Riley was doing it, only that he kept doing it.

But then Riley turned around, and Landry was caught staring.

Not just staring, but plain-as-fuck gawking.

Yeah, he definitely hadn’t intended to kick off this roommate situation by shamelessly ogling Riley Flynn.

“Oh, you’re here,” Riley said, and even though his hips had stopped making that sinuous movement that had every single one of Landry’s good intentions short-circuiting, there was no denying they swayed as he walked over to his phone, and the music didn’t cut out, only became much quieter.

“You’re here,” Landry stuttered. Sounding like a total idiot.

He’d come home early from practice so he could make sure his plan was in place for Riley’s arrival. So he’d be composed and prepared. So he’d be controlled.

But he didn’t feel controlled at all.

Especially not now that Riley had turned around and he had an unhampered view of Riley’s abs on full display, his shorts slipped low, and his cropped t-shirt providing a spectacular view of the muscles rippling as Riley leaned against the counter.

You’re not queer. Anyone would look at this guy and think, maybe I should give it a try.

Maybe I should give him a try.

Maybe Landry wasn’t bisexual; maybe he was just Riley-sexual.

Honestly, nobody who could see him like this, eyes as blue as a summer’s day and skin tanned and totally fucking gorgeous, would ever doubt that was a real thing.

“Yeah,” Riley said casually. “Flight got moved up.”

“Oh. Oh. Oh.” So much for his carefully constructed plan.

Riley shot him a lopsided grin. “Guess I should’ve texted. But I thought you wouldn’t mind, so I got settled in.”

“Settled in,” Landry croaked.

“How was practice?” Riley looked completely unembarrassed and totally comfortable, like he belonged in Landry’s kitchen.

It was Landry’s kitchen. He should be the one feeling at home. But instead, he felt like an interloper in his own house, too many troublesome and aggravating thoughts and feelings crawling underneath his skin.

“It was…uh…fine.” There was one more preseason game before the regular season kicked off. It wasn’t much time to get a new quarterback on board, but Coach Kelley, along with Oscar Reynolds, the offensive coordinator, had started tweaking their offense play schemes to compensate for Riley’s particular skills.

But without Riley, Charlie Nichols, the backup who’d originally been brought in, partially to coach Nelson, had been forced to run the offense himself.

To say it hadn’t gone well was an understatement.

Charlie was thirty-five and trying to get one or two more years under his belt before retirement. He was not Riley Flynn, but they’d done the best they could with Charlie under center.

“Would’ve been a lot better with you,” Landry added, trying to ignore the lightning streaking through him at Riley’s smile.

“Really?” Riley said, looking both surprised and pleased.

“Well, we’re tryin’ to run the new offense with Charlie Nichols, and you can imagine how that’s going.”

“Yeah, I can,” Riley said, his smile deepening, and God, he even had a dimple in his cheek. Landry fought the urge to lean over and press his lips to it.

This was his teammate. His roommate. His freaking best friend’s little brother.

He should be totally off-limits, even in Landry’s thoughts, but the truth was, it was impossible to shove all these non-teammate, non-roommate, non-little brother thoughts back into their boxes.

It had been a problem ever since he’d flirted with him. But the more Landry considered the situation, maybe it was actually before that. Ever since he’d gotten his first good look at the man Riley had become, the hope of controlling those thoughts had been lost.

He’d been lost.

“Charlie’s good people, though,” Landry said.

“Aidan already sent me an email about him,” Riley said, rolling his eyes a little. “But Coach Kelley gave him my number, and we’ve chatted a bit since I signed yesterday. I think we’ll be good.”

Some backups wouldn’t take to the role so naturally, but Landry knew Charlie had initially taken the job because he’d wanted to transition to coaching. He wasn’t interested in being QB1—and that was all Riley wanted.

“I think so,” Landry said. He dropped his bag on the seat of one of the barstools. “You eaten anything yet?”

“No, but I’m about to,” Riley said. “Groceries should be here in a few.”

“Groceries?” Wow, when Riley said he’d settled in, he hadn’t been joking.

“Yeah, groceries. You know those things you buy at the store, so you can make food?” Riley teased.

Somehow Riley’s teasing—or was it flirting?—unlocked his brain. Maybe this wouldn’t be awkward after all. Wasn’t the only awkward one here him?

“I do know what groceries are,” Landry said gruffly.

“Shockingly,” Riley said. He gestured towards the fridge. “You weren’t exactly stocked up.”

“I—”

“Don’t cook?” Riley finished for him. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry. That’s one thing I do really well.”

“Cook? You cook?” Why had Aidan never mentioned that to him before? Or maybe he had, and like so much shit Aidan talked, maybe it had gone in one ear and out the other.

Riley nodded. “You know Aidan doesn’t know everything about me. He’s…well, you know he’s pretty busy with his own life.”

Landry knew. That didn’t surprise him at all.

“Isn’t it a little hypocritical of him to try to big brother you all the freaking time while living his own life in Toronto?”

Riley grinned. “You said it, not me.”

“Maybe someone should be saying it to him,” Landry muttered. He’d known forever that Aidan was way too overprotective of Riley, but this was even more ridiculous than he’d imagined.

“Hey, you want to tell him to fuck off, I’m not gonna stop you,” Riley said lightly. “But you want dinner? I can make it for both of us. Keep up my end of the roommate side of things.”

Landry almost said, you don’t have to do that, but there was a burning fierceness in Riley’s gaze. A determination that he wouldn’t be a burden. So Landry nodded instead. “Sure,” he said. “And you said you got all settled in? Is the bed okay? It’s—”

“New?” Riley finished for him. “Yeah, it’s great. Thank you. Really. I didn’t realize until I came here that I didn’t want to stay in one of those live-in hotels or rent some soulless box. So I’m grateful for the invite.”

“Yeah,” Landry said. Wondering, because he couldn’t seem to help himself if Riley would be so grateful if he knew just how much Landry liked looking at him.

If he knew just how much Landry would give to touch.

If he knew how selfless he wasn’t being.

The front doorbell rang, and Riley shot him a grin that lit him up inside. “There’s the groceries.”

Landry followed him out to the front door, partly because he was curious and partly to help Riley carry everything back to the kitchen.

There were a surprising number of bags. “You really weren’t kidding,” Landry said, lifting three with one hand and grabbing the last two with his other, leaving Riley with nothing to do except sign the delivery guy’s tablet.

It was still raining, and he looked like he wanted nothing else but to get dry, but he did give the two of them a second look.

Was it because Riley looked like that?

Or was it because he’d recognized one or maybe even both of them?

“I think you might come in handy,” Riley said as they walked back to the kitchen.

“As a pack mule?” Landry asked, setting the grocery bags on the counter.

He slipped onto one of the bar stools, watching as Riley began to unpack what he’d ordered.

Tons of protein, which wasn’t a surprise considering the amount he’d probably consumed over the last few years to bulk up.

“I’m just gonna throw a quick marinade together for this chicken and then do a big salad. You good with that?”

Landry raised an eyebrow. “Are you feeding me?”

Riley nodded.

“Then I’m fucking grateful for whatever you put in front of me,” Landry said.

“Was that the rule you had when you were growing up?” Riley asked casually as he dumped various bottles and containers into a dish Landry hadn’t even known he’d owned, not measuring a single thing.

There was a casual confidence in his movements that told Landry he knew exactly what he was doing, and whatever they ate was going to be delicious.

“Yeah, basically.”

“Mama Banks always struck me as someone you don’t fuck around with,” Riley said.

“This is true.” Landry looked back and realized that the only way the four of them hadn’t destroyed both the house and their parents was the firm discipline they’d insisted on. At the time, he’d hated it, had not only chafed under the restrictions but had felt the inevitable weight of being the oldest. The responsible one.

Lyla, of course, would have a lot to say about him claiming the title, as technically she was a few minutes older, but he’d been the eldest boy of three, and it had fallen to him regularly to control the other two. And Logan and Levi had needed a lot of controlling.

“It’s weird,” Riley said, as he set the dish aside and pulled out veggies from the crisper drawer, “that we don’t know each other very well, isn’t it?”

That wasn’t the first time Riley had cut through the polite bullshit and pointed out the blunt truth. Landry had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

“How many years do you and Aidan have between you?” Landry answered Riley’s question by asking one of his own.

Riley leaned against the counter, clearly at home with a knife in his hand. Even a big shiny chef’s knife. If Landry tried to use that, he’d probably accidentally cut off a finger. At the very least, an emergency room trip would’ve been in his future. But not Riley. And more than anything else, that confirmed what Riley had just claimed.

They didn’t know each other very well, despite the fact Aidan had been his best friend forever.

“Almost eight years,” Riley said. “So yeah, when I wasn’t the annoying little brother anymore, you guys were gone and busy with your own lives. I get it.” He shot Landry a look. Were his eyes full of heat, or was that just Landry’s currently overactive imagination? “I guess we’re gonna be making up for lost time now.”

Landry swallowed hard. “Guess we are.”

“Don’t sound like I’m gonna march you down to the cliff and push you right off,” Riley said, laughing. “I promise it won’t hurt too much to get to know me.”

Oh, it wouldn’t hurt at all.

What was going to hurt the most was keeping his hands off.

“Is that what all the boys say to you?” Landry teased before he could reel the words back.

Riley fluttered his eyelashes. God, he was temptation incarnate. “The girls, too. I don’t discriminate, baby.”

“Right.” Landry wanted to say, me too, as long as the guys look like you, but he didn’t because what if this wasn’t what this was? What if he was wrong?

Then there was the fact he knew enough about coming out that it wasn’t necessarily right to do it just because he enjoyed flirting so much with Riley—and wanted him to keep doing it.

“Though,” Riley said, shooting him another look from underneath those killer lashes, “I do tend to prefer the boys, so you’re not entirely wrong.”

Landry swallowed hard. “Is that…is that a thing? Can that be a thing? A preference even if you’re bisexual?”

“Of course it can. Sexuality is a pretty fluid thing when it comes down to it. Surely I don’t have to tell you that.” Riley had gone back to chopping lettuce, like their conversation wasn’t sending shockwaves through Landry.

He means: surely, your brothers explained that to you. Not that you personally are…well…fluid.

But maybe he was. More than he’d ever imagined he was.

“Logan and Levi are less on the fluid side of things,” Landry explained.

“Ah yes, your brothers. The ones who would’ve apparently found me irresistible.” Riley grinned.

They wouldn’t be the only ones.

Landry flushed. The way Riley was looking at him with those gorgeous eyes, like he could see right through him, down to the place where he was questioning everything, and unlike Landry, it was like he knew exactly what all this meant.

Even if he couldn’t possibly.

“Don’t tell me that isn’t normal for you,” Landry said, trying to equal Riley’s casual approach to the subject of just how fucking hot he was.

But Riley just shrugged. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t love it if, every once in a while, people saw you as more than a pair of pecs and a head of blond hair? I kinda liked it better when I was that scrawny kid nobody paid attention to.”

Even if Landry ignored how he looked, giving his looks the barest attention in the mirror every morning, he knew people still watched him. Approached him. Felt like they deserved a piece of him.

“Yeah, I get that,” Landry said quietly.

Now, suddenly, it was hard to see Riley as just his abs and his biceps and those dreamy eyes.

“Thought you might,” Riley said, the edge of his mouth quirking up. “I just gotta get the chicken grilled, and then we can eat.”

“I have film from practice if you wanna watch it while we eat,” Landry offered.

“Oh, yeah, that would be great. Coach sent me the playbook, and I’ve been going over it, but to see it in action? That would help.”

“Thought it might.” Landry slid off the stool and stretched, headed into the living room, flipped on the TV, and grabbed his tablet, connecting the two devices so he could beam the practice footage to the much bigger screen.

Fifteen minutes later, they were side by side on the couch, chowing down on salad and chicken, watching as Charlie led the first team offense that tomorrow would be Riley’s.

“I like that double-crossing pattern,” Riley observed, gesturing at the screen with his fork. “I saw that play in the book. But what if we brought you into it, ran a reverse with it, added another wrinkle.”

Landry could see it and could see it working as he envisioned the play unfolding in his head.

“Yeah, yeah, you might have something there,” he said. He should’ve predicted that Riley would be as good at cooking as he was at football. Clearly, he intended to excel at anything he tried.

“I don’t know if…” Riley hesitated. It was the first time since he’d arrived—really, the first time since he’d met him again, as a man, not just as a boy—that he hadn’t been one hundred and ten percent confident.

“If what?”

Riley sighed. Set his plate down. “I’m not a rookie, necessarily, but I’m a rookie in every way that matters. I spent a year on a practice squad, and then I played in the XFL. I don’t know if…contributions are encouraged here. Or if they’d be encouraged from someone like me.”

“Not always, not on every team I’ve been on, but on this one? Yeah, absolutely. Coach Kelley is great. You met him. You must’ve gotten the impression he’s not the typical coach.”

“Yeah, I did. Obviously, that made this job even more attractive even though…” Riley hesitated again, then plowed ahead, like he had to get this out before he changed his mind about saying it at all. “Even though I didn’t have a lot of choices.”

Landry heard what he wasn’t saying: I didn’t have any other choices.

“Whatever choices you did or didn’t have,” Landry said gently, and before he could stop himself, his hand was on Riley’s bare knee, and a jolt of electricity seared him. But he didn’t move it. Because what he was saying was important, and again, it wasn’t Riley’s fault Landry was so goddamned attracted to him. “We’re goddamn lucky to have you. And this is a good spot for you. A great spot, even. We’re…we’re all kinda feelin’ our way here in Charleston. I can say this, you’re going to be more than welcome to speak up, give your two cents. More than any place I’ve ever played, this is a level playing field.”

Landry squeezed his knee and then moved his hand away before it decided to take up a permanent home attached to Riley’s skin.

His knee was still a little knobby, like it hadn’t quite caught up to the rest of the bulked-up frame, and Landry shouldn’t have felt his heart squeeze at the realization, but it did.

Riley had worked so hard to get here. That went without saying. The least he could do was be a support system. Even if he hadn’t promised Aidan he would be, Landry knew it was absolutely the right thing to do.

“We’re all looking for our own redemption, huh?” Riley asked.

“Yeah,” Landry said with a nod.

Riley picked up his food again. “We know what mine is, so what’s yours?”

“Maybe not redemption, necessarily, but…a chance to prove I can play someplace else.”

“A chance to prove you can catch passes from someone who isn’t Josh Allen?”

Landry smiled. “Yeah, I guess. And a chance to be closer to my brother.”

“That’s why you took this job, isn’t it? To be closer to Logan?”

“And…there was a lot he kept telling me about Miami, things that happened there, a feeling they had in their locker room, in the facility, on the sideline, that I’d never had in Buffalo. I don’t know if we can replace it here, but I wanted to try anyway.”

“You know,” Riley said mischievously, “you’re not just a pretty face, either.”

“Thanks,” Landry said dryly. Ignoring the way his pulse sped up at Riley admitting he found him pretty.

“I guess we are doing this,” Riley said.

“Doing what?”

“This getting to you know you thing. Aidan’s kept you to himself for way too long.”

“Aidan can be a selfish ass.”

“Hey, you’re telling me,” Riley said lightly.

Landry had thought it earlier, but now he said it. “You’ve got no issue cutting through the bullshit with anyone else. But not with Aidan.”

“There a question in that?” Riley asked, glancing over at Landry.

“You don’t tell him off.”

“I do, sometimes.”

“No, you don’t,” Landry corrected gently. “Or I’d never stop hearing about it from Aidan.”

Riley sighed. “You don’t need me to tell you why.”

Landry didn’t. He knew how the Flynns had gotten divorced when Aidan was twelve, and Riley was five. And how in the midst of a very acrimonious divorce, they’d sort of lost track of their own children.

How, for years, it felt like it was Aidan and Riley against the world. Against their own parents, sometimes.

How Aidan had felt responsible for his younger brother. How it had, Landry liked to remind him occasionally, exacerbated his own worst protective instincts when it came to Riley.

“You don’t need to explain,” Landry agreed. “It was more an observation than anything else.”

“It’s just not that…easy, I guess…to tell him to fuck off. Not when I get why he’s the way he is. When I know he means well. When I know it’s all he knows, protecting me.”

“What if you don’t need protecting anymore?”

Riley shrugged. “We’ll figure it out sometime. It helps I’ve got my own life now, and he’s got his.”

“Even though he wanted to reel you into his?” Landry didn’t know why he was pushing this way. Riley was smart, and he knew exactly what he was about. He’d done all of this, hadn’t he, despite all of Aidan’s reservations?

“I never would have gone to Toronto,” Riley said, rolling his eyes. “Never.”

“I know.”

Riley shot him a look. “You do?”

“You might not say it to his face, but your actions say it clearly enough.” Landry finished the last bit of his salad and refrained, barely, from licking his plate. Sure, he’d been raised to eat everything put in front of him, but this had been a step above the usual.

Riley was quiet for a long moment. “Not everyone sees that,” he said.

“Well, maybe there’s less getting to know each other than you thought,” Landry teased. Except he could think of all kinds of ways that would be new. Like if he slid another few inches closer on the couch. If he leaned in. If he tossed all his reservations to the wind and let himself touch Riley the way he desperately wanted to.

“Maybe,” Riley said, his tone amused. “Or maybe not.” His gaze was glued to Landry’s face, then it flicked lower, down to his mouth, and oh yeah, it was entirely possible they were thinking the exact same thing.

Landry quaked inside.

“Come on, let’s watch the rest of the plays,” he said, clearing his throat and trying to change the subject.

Get back on the plan, he reminded himself. You had the plan for a reason. Doesn’t matter if Riley demolished it without even knowing it existed. You can still drag you two back onto the right path.

The path of least temptation.