ella
Junior Member
Posts: 78
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Post by ella on Jul 1, 2015 7:45:18 GMT
I love your version of Ana and Kate, where Ana actually likes Kate and isn't just using her for free rent.
I can't wait to see how you work around Christian "stalking" the hardware store.
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Post by blowpop on Jul 1, 2015 23:26:11 GMT
Well fluke or not, you hit the nail on the head about driving in the rain on the West coast.
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Post by kitkate on Aug 23, 2015 21:28:25 GMT
Why did you stop, goddamit?! I just finished the 3 chapters and I love what you did. I only wish more people could read this (and that you would post more nameless chapters, of course )
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Post by glasschmetterling on Sept 1, 2015 9:02:11 GMT
Oh shit. I've been struggling with the next two chapters so much that I didn't realize how long I've left all of you hanging there. Sorry. I'm still working on this, only the Clayton's scene and the date scene are so difficult to write that I sometimes want to pull my hair out. I'm halfway happy with the Clayton's scene now (or at least I was when I last checked it - I don't dare now) - I'm only terribly unsure if it really works standing for itself. It is a vast improvement in the creepiness department to the original scene (Christian is still an arrogant dick, I mean, he's still approaching Ana at her workplace where she doesn't have a way out, but far less of an arrogant dick than in the original, and hopefully way less creepy), but I'm not that sure if it makes sense when you haven't read Fifty Shades, and if it's in character with the first Christian Scene in his office. Advice would be very welcome, even though I don't suppose we'll find anyone here who hasn't read at least Jenny's recaps.
The date scene in the Coffee House is also being a major nuisance, because there's a decided shift in Christian from "attracted to her" to "shit, I'm not sure if this is really a good idea", and I don't really get it across from Ana's point of view... I'll try it from Christian's POV today, and hope that it better explains his short-lived change of heart. As I've decided I wanted to include a few scenes from Christian's POV anyway, that's not a major issue, and I'll just start with it a bit earlier than expected.
Fifty Shades Revisited – Chapter Four: My copious creativity went into the chapter text
“Holy crap!” I nearly yelp when I look up from my orders and see the very man I was trying to banish from my thoughts, standing right in front of me, a small smile playing on his lips as he steps forward to the counter. “Holy crap?” He raises an eyebrow at my choice of expletive, and I feel the blush rise in my cheeks. Kate's been teasing me for my clean cussing – well, at least outside of my head – since the day she first heard me yell at my friggin' car, which was, pretty much the day that we'd met. But he isn't Kate, and I instantly feel self-conscious and defensive. “What would you prefer, Mr Grey? Oh brother? Golly? Or, if you're in for something stronger, what about jeepers?” He stares at me, with the wide eyes of a man who expected a fawn and found an angry doe instead, and then, finally, laughs and tilts his head. “Touché, Ms Steele.” I really don't know if that's a compliment or if he's just mocking me (Miss Ready-to-dress-me-down is obviously on the side of mocking, but I'm not so sure about it – after all, he has been kind and considerate when I met him at his office), so I stand up from my chair and do what I always do when presented with uncomfortable situations at work: I hide behind my professional facade. Yeah, because that worked so well last time. At least you don't wear high heels today. “What can I do for you, Mr Grey?” He frowns, obviously noticing the sudden shift in my demeanor, but does not comment. “I was in the area, and my sister sent me a shopping list, so I thought I could stop by...” Miss Hellishly-Annoying, who was staring at him over the rim of her spectacles with a deeply suspicious glance, nearly chokes on her coughing fit as he says “in the area”. Yeah, right. Christian Grey, billionaire from Seattle, was totally in the Portland-Vancouver area, and now he needs to stock up on a few things. Shut up. I push the distracting thought away and put on my most pleasant smile. “Of course. What do you need?” He seems a bit surprised that I instantly went full professional mode, instead of making a bit of small talk with him – Yeah, because small talk is so on the list of my strengths... not! My smile turns a bit impish while he fishes in his jacket and finally pulls out his phone. Caught in your own trap, aren't we, Mr Grey? Tough luck! When he notices my amusement with him, something in his expression changes as well, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips – and I can almost hear him say in that warm and husky voice of his, Challenge accepted. I grin, and he makes a great show of consulting his phone. “Ah, well, the first item on my list... I need some cable ties.” “Of course. We stock various lengths and colors – may I show you?” “Please. Lead the way, Ms Steele.” I gesture for him to come with me, wondering why in hell a man like Christian Grey would need cable ties of all things – well, he is in the telecommunications business after all, my personal relationship adviser helpfully supplies. “They're with the electrical goods, in aisle eight.” He nods politely, then follows me, and I can feel his intense gaze between my shoulder blades as I walk in front of him. He's watching me, isn't he? Oh my God! “There we are.” I point him to the cable ties section, and, the defensiveness I felt when he came at me cold still fully in place, smile sweetly at him, while he steps closer and runs his fingers over the packages. “Do you like what you see?” He startles, and I try to repress my smirk as he turns towards me, without too much success, while he composes himself again. “Indeed, Ms Steele, I do like very much what I see.” Turning towards the cable ties again and picking some of them up – they're gray, I notice bemusedly – he nods. “And these will do nicely, thank you.” A week ago, I would have blushed scarlet at that kind of compliment – said in a very low, serious voice – from a man as handsome as Christian Grey; now, I only smile, extremely pleased with myself even though I had wanted to put him off at first. So I guess it isn't possible to die of mortification after all. The sensation wears off with time. “Anything else I can help you with?” He raises one of those gorgeous eyebrows at me. “Some masking tape, I think.” I wonder what the hell he is going to do with cable ties and masking tape – it sounds like he's got pretty major renovations going on in his house, or apartment, or wherever a man like him lives, because I can't think of any other project that would need those particular items. “Of course. Are you redecorating? Or is your sister?” “In a sense, yes. I've got some major changes going on right now.” He tilts his head and smiles faintly at me. “My sister also thinks that I haven't got enough color in my living room, and she's determined to set that to rights.” “With gray cable ties?” He laughs softly at my joke, and I delight in the sound, as I'm the one who drew it from him. “I admit that's more a personal preference of mine.” I grin and gesture for him to precede me to the main aisle, taking my turn in ogling his butt – and it's an exquisite butt, well-rounded and firm in his tight jeans... Jump him. Jump him right now, and press him against the electronics rack, run your hands through his hair, muss it a bit more, and then find out if his butt feels as good as it looks... The thought comes at me cold, and I startle, wondering who the hell has thought it. Certainly not Miss All-that-is-Proper, who takes turns sounding like Kate and my horrible Sunday school teacher and who nearly had a fit at the idea. Great. More voices in my head – soon, there'll be a frigging polonaise of them. Then again, the idea certainly has merit... Don't you dare! Miss Wouldn't-recognize-hot-if-it-jumped-into-her-face scowls at me at the thought, and I swallow as she continues. You have no business thinking that stuff! I hurry to catch up with Mr Grey, who has reached the main aisle, and is certainly unsure where to go now. “Masking tape is in the decorations department, that way.” He follows my direction, and I smile up at him, mainly trying to refocus my thoughts. “I wouldn't have pegged you for a do-it-yourself kind of guy.” He smirks, and again, like during my interview, I get the feeling that we're talking about different things. “Well, Ms Steele, I do appreciate a hands-on approach, whenever it is possible.” Really? I frown internally. I've held his hand – I've admired the grace of his long fingers more than I should have – hell, I've dreamed about those hands... and yet they are not the hands of a man who does a lot of physical work. No bruises, no callouses. Guess he doesn't have the time to do hands-on very often. “Here we are. Masking tape. Two widths, various brands.” I hand him the rolls so he can examine them himself, and our fingers brush briefly, leaving me craving more of his touch. Stupid stupid stupid! He checks his phone again, frowning at the screen for a moment, before he decides. “I'll take this one.” I put the broader one back where it belongs, then turn towards him, trying to distract myself by firmly looking into his eyes. Sadly, they're as gorgeous as the rest of him – so no success in that department. “Anything else I can get you? Some duct tape while we're at it, in case something moves that shouldn't?” He laughs. “No thanks – but some rope would be a good idea.” Rope? Cable ties, masking tape, ROPE? Is his sister's middle name McGyver or what? “Rope, of course. This way, sir.” I smile at him brightly. “What exactly are you after?” “What?” My question throws him off balance – only figuratively, not literally, because he is not clumsy me – and I grin. “Well, we have synthetic and natural filament rope, twine, cable cord, you name it.” “Natural filament rope, please. Ten yards.” I nod and measure it out against the fixed ruler, then fish the Stanley knife from my back pocket and cut the rope neatly. Tying it into a slipknot, I hand it to him – and he raises his eyebrow as he sees my hands at work. After the mess you've made in his office, he's probably surprised you don't need surgery to untangle your fingers now. Thank you for your appreciation and support, I snark back at Miss Dress-me-down, and, feeling less than charitable at the moment, turn towards Mr Grey. “Anything else you need? Maybe coveralls, so you don't tear or stain those nice jeans of yours while you're redecorating whatever you're going to redecorate with cable ties, rope and masking tape?” He laughs. He laughs, even though he's trying to suppress it, and his laugh is as rich and dark as Kate's mom's patented hot brownie with molten chocolate inside. A laugh to die for. “Well, I couldn't let that happen. But I could always take them off.” Take them off? I feel like he has hit me in the stomach with a brick, because of all those uninvited – but nevertheless very welcome – pictures of him half naked my mind conjures, but also, because... Has he been flirting with me? Like, all the time, from the moment he came in? Strange way of flirting, that annoying voice replies, by ordering you all around the shop and trying to buy murder supplies. “I really wouldn't recommend that.” I sound as cool and composed as I can, while watching him run amok pantsless in my mind and enjoying the scene immensely. “Doing any kind of do-it-yourself work without your pants on would pose a major security risk, and besides, most kind of paints we stock aren't very nice on the skin, and hard to scrub off.” He seems not quite sure if he should take my words at face value – I'm not sure, either, because while Miss Not-Interested wants me to put him down, another part of me is screaming at me to suggest that I'd gladly help him take those annoying jeans off – and finally, he nods. “I guess you're right.” Behind his ostentatiously dejected tone lurks a lot of amusement, and he seems like he's greatly enjoying his exchange with me. Not that I would have, were he any other man on the face of this damned big planet. “But speaking of paint, I still need paint – Mia said I should pick the colors for her new arrangement myself.” I look up at him teasingly. “I'm afraid we don't stock enough shades of gray.” He shudders. “I wouldn't dare. Before she sent me shopping, Mia suggested orange, blue and bright green as a combination that would go very well with my piano. I think it was a threat.” “Well, we can't have that!” We're already in the decorations department, so our way isn't that long, and I lead him towards the racks with the various brands and colors of paints and varnishes we stock. “Here we are.” He takes a look down the aisle, then checks his phone, and an expression of confusion crosses his face – rare for a man like him. “Could you take a look? I'm not an expert where redecoration is concerned.” I gingerly take his phone from him and stare down at Mia, a pretty young woman with a great laugh, who obviously likes to pepper her text messages liberally with exclamation marks. God, I'm glad she's his sister! Autocorrect seems to have made a mess of things – it usually does that – and I frown for a moment, deep in thought.“I think she wants acrylic enamel – it's good for painting glass, ceramic and other smooth surfaces.” I lead him to the appropriate section and he gingerly chooses a few colors – and true to his word, they aren't all gray. He also avoids orange and bright green like the pest, but seems to rather like shades of lilac, green and blue that go well together. He grins. “My sister likes those – so she'll be happy.” I tilt my head at him. “Isn't it more important that you're happy? It's your living room after all.” Something changes in his gray eyes, and for a moment, I think he's oddly... touched, and his face softens. “I like them too. She is only more bold about allowing color into her life than I am.” I don't know why, but his words and more, the way he looks at me as he says them, make me blush a little, and I'm grateful that he notices my discomfort and steers us back into the safe waters of at least semi-professionalism. “Thank you for your help, Ms Steele. I think that was all my sister wrote up for me.” He checks his phone again, and then nods contentedly. “Yes. Everything accounted for.” He gestures for me to go ahead, and as I lead him over to the check-out, he watches me out of the corner of his eye, and finally smiles. “How is the article coming around?” Thank God – a nice, serious question, without all this double and triple innuendo we've been doing for the last half hour until my head spun. “Quite nicely. Ms Kavanagh is writing it, not me, but she's very enthusiastic about it, background-checking this and researching that... I'm sure she'll do you and your company credit. Only thing missing are a few photos to go with it.” He smiles at me, and I can see his eyes warm up. “I'm sure that problem can easily be solved. I'm in town for WSU's agricultural congress and a few meetings until Tuesday, and if you call me, I'm sure I can fit you into my schedule somewhere.” Kate is going to freak, I think distractedly as he hands me his card, and our fingers brush again. No, scratch that. I am going to freak! “Thank you, Mr Grey. That's extremely thoughtful of you, especially as I know you must be quite busy.” I ring up the cable ties, the masking tape, the rope and the enamel at the till, and then take his credit card. “Would you like a bag?” “Yes, please.” He hesitates for a moment – unusual for a man so confident as him – before he smiles at me. “I look forward to hearing from you, Ms Steele.” He sounds so... honest. Honest and completely and utterly vulnerable. I swallow. “I'll be in touch as soon as I've talked to Ms Kavanagh.” He seems... relieved, and I think there's an additional spring in his step as I watch him disappear through the sliding doors, his plastic bag slung over his shoulder. What the hell?
“He did WHAT?” Kate stares at me like I've just told her that the Tooth Fairy really does exist, and I'm caught between my own shock and the urge to giggle like a madwoman. Fortunately, my sensible side wins out and I take a deep breath, before I calmly – not the calm of real serenity, but the calm of shock and surprise – repeat: “He bought some stuff at Clayton's, and then offered me a photo shoot for the student newspaper.” “Stuff. Right.” The disbelieving edge in Kate's voice is starting to grate on my nerves, and I bite my tongue so I don't lash out at her. “What kind of stuff?” “Erm... masking tape, enamel, cable ties and rope.” “Did he forget to ask for a shovel? And a coverall?” It seems that Kate's thoughts have taken a creepy, Dexter-like direction. “I suggested the coverall, but he said he could always take his pants off.” Kate seems near apoplexy as she sees my reddish face and hears my sheepish tone, and I can feel myself blush even more – as much as I love her, sometimes... sometimes I really don't fancy being Katherine Kavanaghs best friend. Like right now. Because Kate is the reigning, defending and undisputed Queen of Uncomfortable but Unfortunately Necessary Conversations. “Ana... are you sure he doesn't fancy you? Because the only other explanation for his behavior I could think of is that he is a serial killer and has pegged you as his next victim, but is trying to warn you off in his strange and creepy way, and I really don't want to do the eulogy at your funeral.” “He said his sister needed the stuff for her art project, and that it's intended for his living room. Some hanging arrangement, I guess, with all that rope.” Now that I say it out loud to my best friend, what he explained to me really sounds... thin. Even though I saw his phone and the messages. Quick, something to distract Kate! I really really really can't stand any more of her probing questioning, especially as this is the first time I'm even remotely attracted to a guy... “And he was in the area anyway, he's meeting with the agricultural department of WSU.” “Oh, that must be about the 2.5 million grant and the congress.” Kate's face lights up at the thought of Christian Grey's generosity towards the university, and for a moment, I'm so glad that her mind has wandered off into parts unknown that I don't question her knowledge. For a moment. “That doesn't explain why he's turned up at Clayton's, though? And... an art project? His sister? Really? What kind of lame excuse for buying murder supplies is that?” Damn. I try to shrug away the question, without much success. In truth, I have been asking myself something like that from the moment Christian Grey left my sight (and I messed up the orders I was supposed to check in the process to the point where I had to start all over again, while mulling over the matter). Was Christian Grey really at Clayton's – or maybe even in Portland! – to see me? The thought seems completely and utterly ridiculous. Then again... he definitely flirted with me. Or I with him? I don't know. At least I am pretty sure there was some flirting involved (either that, or that pants comment was creepy as shit!), and he has said that he looks forward to hearing from me. But why was he at Clayton's? How does he even know that I work there? I shake my head, irritated. No wonder Kate was always so unlike herself when she was dealing with her newest boyfriend-love-interest-or-whatever-induced problem and needed her comfy pajamas and ice cream. Unfortunately, I don't have any of either. “Ana? Ana, are you still in there?” Kate waves her hand in front of my face and I flush, again. “I'm sorry, what were you just saying?” She rolls her eyes and grins, and I'm glad that at least one of us can find humor in this situation. Or at least I try to be. “Well, no matter if he fancies you or not, we still have to arrange that photo shoot he offered you, don't we?” I scowl at her. “Do we? Even though you've just said he might be a serial killer?” For a moment, Kate seems inclined to roll her eyes, but she stops herself and turns towards me, suddenly dead serious. “That was a joke, but... did you get that vibe from him? Like, for real? Did he scare you? Threaten you? Did he make you feel afraid, or uncomfortable?” Her sudden intensity confuses me to no end – from “Why don't you just admit he's a hottie?” to “Does he set off your Spidey senses?” in literally two seconds. But she is my best friend, and she is serious, and so I close my eyes for a moment, reliving my interactions with Christian Grey... but no. As uncomfortable as he has made me at times, it wasn't the “Oh my god what is this guy going to do next?”-panicky kind of uncomfortable, but more the sense of not being comfortable inside my own skin that I had developed when I started high school, and never really gotten rid of since then. In other words... I had been perfectly normal. I'm habitually uncomfortable with people. All kinds of people. And at times, he had really put me at ease, or as much at ease as I obviously could be around a guy I had strange and all too vivid dreams about every night. I mean, I had joked with him, right? Even flirted a bit, I guess. I smile. “No, he didn't, Kate. Please don't worry. I'm just not at all comfortable with navigating this entire A-billionaire-might-be-attracted-to-me scenario, what with my dating experience being virtually nil. And before you ask, that guy I made out with in high school does not count.” Nevertheless, I make a mental note about asking Christian Grey what he was doing at Clayton's the next time I see him – if I ever see him again. Kate doesn't seem entirely convinced – she must be as aware as I that I don't have all that much experience with separating the creepy guys from the decent ones – but she hugs me hard and then grins, obviously determined to lighten the mood, and just as obviously forcing herself to trust my judgment. “Well, at least you've admitted now hat he might be a teeny-tiny bit interested in you.” Of course, now that all the serious matters are out of the way, Kate would chump at the bit like a hungry dog. I shrug. “Well, he might.” “So when are you going to call him to arrange that photo shoot he's promised you? Time's ticking, you know?” I nearly fall off the sofa. “What?” Not that I'm not painfully aware that I have Christian Grey's mobile number – his card is practically burning on my skin. Not that I'm completely against the thought of talking to him again. In fact, I would like that – very much. But I always assumed that I would call him after ample mental preparation, a fortifying cup of weak, black English tea, and after running about three dozen possible conversation scenarios through my head, so I know my answers in each of them. And not... like... NOW? Now is NOT good. So I do what I can – I stall. “Who's gonna do the shoot? I thought Levi was home for the weekend in... Idaho Falls, I think?” “Yeah, he is.” Kate sighs deeply. “I thought about asking José.” I raise a questioning eyebrow at her. “You do realize he's not a journalist and doesn't like doing portraits?” Kate waves the thought breezily away, with the air of a woman who knows how very persuasive she is. It's really indecent sometimes how much you envy her that. “Oh, I'll convince him, don't worry.” That's the least of my worries now, Kate. In fact, part of me really hopes you won't. “How about I call him now, and you call Grey as soon as we've secured a photographer?” I idly wonder when Kate's student newspaper has become a “we” kind of project, but mostly, I'm running around in circles in my head, screaming like a madwoman. I'm supposed to call Christian Grey in what... five minutes or so? The thought is enough to make me freak. Maybe it was a good thing he jumped at me cold at Clayton's. If I had known he was coming, I'd have talked myself into a fainting fit. Well, you're certainly doing a wonderful job of it now, Mrs Bennet, that voice inside my head snarks and I swat her over the head with a rolled paper, then try to ignore her, instead focusing on the one-sided conversation going on in Kate's room, and not only one-sided because I can only hear Kate's voice. “Oh, c'mon, José! You still owe me after I saved your ass during spring break!” I remember the incident – José had fallen asleep on a sofa and a few drunk partygoers with sharpies had found him. They'd been just about to draw a giant p... well, nobody likes sharpie drawings on their face, and Kate had swept in like a giant angry lioness and saved him. Or so she claims every time she tells the story. “It's not emotional blackmail!” Personally, I agree that it is, but I won't tell Kate that – after all, the stuff she bullies me into doing usually turns out rather well for me. Like a certain interview... I blush. “Just think about it! Pictures of Christian Grey – awesome pictures of Christian Grey, because I've seen your portraits and they're not nearly as bad as you say – and your name under them! Your name! In the special issue of the student newspaper. If there's better publicity, I certainly haven't heard of it!” That seems to do the trick, because a triumphant Kate returns to the living room not thirty seconds later. “He's on board.” “Wonderful.” If Kate notices my sarcasm, she thankfully doesn't comment on it, and under her expectant gaze, I pull Christian Grey's slightly rumpled card out of my back pocket and touch it gingerly. Breathe, Ana. Breathe. Talking is rather difficult if you don't. I frown at Kate, who's still hovering at my shoulder, staring at me like I'm going to perform an especially impressive magic trick. “Can you just... go, please?” I make a shooing motion with my hands, and she raises her eyebrows, but nevertheless complies without protest – I think that's a first – and disappears into her room, closing the door behind her. I'm actually sure she will do her damned best not to eavesdrop – but our walls are thin and our doors even thinner. Well, at least the illusion of privacy is better than nothing. I take a deep breath, as if I were about to dive into a deep, cold and very frightening pool of water. No excuses left, Kate is gone, you are alone, it isn't too late to call him. With trembling hands, I type his number into my phone and then double-check every single digit. Let's do this! I touch the green symbol and pretend that I don't see my fingers shaking. “Grey.” He picks up almost immediately, his voice calm and cool, and I wonder for a moment if I'm glad that I'm not caught in long seconds of suspense, or if I'd have liked the respite. “Erm... this is Anastasia Steele speaking. We'd like to go ahead with the photo shoot.” “Ms Steele, what a pleasure.” And I believe him – he sounds pleased and, dare I say it, excited! Not as excited as you are, Ana! Unfortunately, knowing that he's sincerely happy that I called him doesn't make it easier to come up with a decent reply. So, as always in our interactions, I stick to technicalities to cover my lapse. “When and where would be convenient for you, sir?” A brief rustle of paper, and I can see him in my head, his slender hands moving over his desktop, a small frown on his face while he's thinking and rescheduling. God, he's hot! And I can't even see him... the sound of him moving alone is doing things to me. Ana, you're so far gone I'm surprised you can still think straight! There is nothing special about this man and you got no reason to behave like a sl... I shove Miss Oh-now-you're-calling-me-names out of the way – she's in full Sunday School teacher mode again – and slam the door in her face, just in time to hear Christian Grey answer. “I'm staying at the Heathman, if you're familiar with it.” I nod, then, remembering that we're on the phone and he can't see me, answer, “Yes, of course. I mean, I've certainly never stayed there, but, I mean...” I'm rambling and I know it, so I just shut up, and feel my face flame. Thank God he can't see me! He laughs quietly at my words, but somehow, despite my shame, that rich laugh sounds kind and amused to me, not vile and condescending. How does he do it? I have no idea! “Of course. Who hasn't heard of the Heathman?” I take the easy out that he offers me, relieved. “Yeah, who hasn't?” A deep breath and an awkward pause, until I continue. “I assume it'd be better for you if we could schedule something there?” He ponders my suggestion for a moment, and I can almost see him nod. “Yes, that'd be for the best – I'd certainly go out of my way to help you and your colleague, but my schedule is rather full as I'm only here in Portland for a few days. Would nine thirty tomorrow be convenient for you?” “Sure, sure it would. Our photographer is free and Kate – erm, Ms Kavanagh – is too.” To be honest, I'd have done a lot more than skip another shift at Clayton's to see him and his smile again, even though technically, there is no reason for me to attend that photo shoot, with me not being on the newspaper and all. Grey seems to think the same. “I hope you'll be there too, not only your colleagues. I really look forward to seeing you again, and maybe you'd like to grab a coffee afterwards?” I instantly go from “maybe this conversation isn't the deathtrap I thought it would be”-mode to “perilously close to cardiac arrest”. Coffee! With Christian frigging Grey! I give the door I've shut Miss Annoying away behind a sharp kick to keep her out of the way. “I'd love that!” I hate how I sound, all breathy and gushing, but there's no helping it, so excited am I. And at least now he knows that you're interested, Ana. That other voice in my head again – the one that definitely doesn't sound like my old teacher at all – but she's right... Oh my gosh, Christian Grey knows I'm interested! I'm going to die of mortification! But there's no going back... so I plunge ahead before my fear catches up with me, and add, “I really look forward to seeing you again, Mr Grey. And of course, to coffee!” I can't really imagine him in a coffee shop, but... we'll manage, right? “Well, then. Until tomorrow, Ms Steele.” I can hear his smile – and see it on those all too kissable lips in my head – as he answers. “I'm sure it will be my pleasure, as always.” Something tells me that he's heard my sharp intake of breath before he hung up, and I lean back into the sofa cushions, trying to breathe while battling the pictures he's conjured in my head with that simple sentence. Not that there's anything wrong with those long-fingered hands around your hips, pulling you flush against him and... Not when I'm about to face Kate! I reply irritatedly, as my friend comes out of her room with a face about to split in half from her grin. She obviously has heard the pertinent parts. “Would it be terribly annoying if I said I told you so now?” I scowl at her, and I'm not sure if I'm serious about it or not. “Yes.” Kate cocks her head. “Then indulge me. Just once!” I stifle my chuckle. “Okay. But you'll lose your bragging rights about this for the foreseeable future.” At least until he does the next surprising and exciting thing that completely throws me off balance. “Fine.” Kate schools her features into something at least resembling a stern gaze. “Anastasia Rose Steele, I told you so.” She bursts out laughing and giggling even before I throw my pillow at her, and when we both fall back onto the sofa after an impromptu pillow fight, I feel that all the tension has left my body. Thank God I have Kate! Trying to get the upcoming discussion out of the way as quickly as possible, I explain, “So, photo shoot tomorrow, nine-thirty, at the Heathman if you can get the location. And afterwards, he wants to go on a coffee date with me.” Then realization hits me. “I have a date with Christian Grey! Holy Cow, what am I going to wear?” For a moment, I can see Kate's morbid amusement deep down in her eyes – I've never understood or appreciated her pre-date jitters, and teased her about them endlessly, until now – then she pulls me into a hug. “Don't worry, sweetie. You'll look awesome!” “I sincerely doubt that.”
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Post by wonderbink on Sept 1, 2015 15:51:11 GMT
This is delightful. I like the way Ana and Kate are genuinely friends instead of rivals.
One nitpick--"fancy" as a verb does not exist in the American vocabulary. (Except maybe for Anglophiles.) "Have a crush on" would be the equivalent.
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Post by pat t on Oct 23, 2015 2:42:52 GMT
Hi, I just found this. Have you written, or planning on writing, any further chapters?
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Post by glasschmetterling on Oct 24, 2015 6:41:52 GMT
I have not written any more yet, but I definitely plan on writing more and finishing this. But I know my pace of work, and it's about as slow as riding an arthritic turtle backwards It'll probably be February or March until I can continue this, I'm sorry... But hearing that people are interested in it definitely makes me happy, thank you!
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ella
Junior Member
Posts: 78
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Post by ella on Oct 25, 2015 7:58:31 GMT
I love how the weirdness/creepiness of his hardware store purchases were actually addressed in the narrative, and not just "la la he's sexy so let's just ignore the Dexter starter kit"
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Post by MayaBee on Oct 26, 2015 22:47:31 GMT
I just read all chapters. I'm almost devastated that now I'll have to wait so long for the rest. I really like the way you rewrote the story! A couple of times I actually laughed at the conversations in Ana's head. The way you write with a bit of humor is very close to my own way of expression IRL, so I feel the characters (and especially Ana) much closer to me. And I don't hate any of them! In short, your version is just another proof that the original crap could have been a much better (albeit not very original) book. Keep up the good work and liebe Grüße, Maya P.s. Congrats on the amazing language skills. I'm not a native speaker myself, but I definitely can see that your style is better than the EEL's.
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Post by muskratthemink on Dec 14, 2015 19:47:21 GMT
I just now finished chapter 1 of my fic. Sad thing is I'm pretty sure it'll stay a back-burner project, something I only work on when I have literally no ideas for my other works. So, anyway, here's the link: docs.google.com/document/d/1Uu2VB3wjykgE4xZgWfDTonMkMKzHvOQoN_wlbVoFIdE/edit?usp=sharingAnd I was thinking about switching between Ana's and Christian's POVs, but then I remembered I know next to nothing about business, so I couldn't do much with most of his life. I also can't write from a guy's POV without making him sound gay. I'll probably still give it a try, though. We'll see.
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Post by glasschmetterling on Dec 26, 2015 10:47:30 GMT
I only got around to reading this now, but I really like it very much. It's much darker than the original (poor Kate!), and also much more down to earth, what with Christian having inherited his firm and having a board to back him. I also like Ana very much, she's a bit snarky and has a sense of humor and I like her so much more than the original. Also, you've made Christian seem about a gazillion times more professional! I'm really looking forward to see what you've planned, and what the connection between Christian and Ana is - for them to have met in High School, I suppose you've lessened the age difference a bit? Also, you might think about getting yourself your own thread - not that I'm trying to throw you out, mind, but maybe people who didn't like my story might like yours, and I don't want you to get lost or overlooked Yours Glass
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Post by muskratthemink on Dec 26, 2015 12:58:40 GMT
I only got around to reading this now, but I really like it very much. It's much darker than the original (poor Kate!), and also much more down to earth, what with Christian having inherited his firm and having a board to back him. I also like Ana very much, she's a bit snarky and has a sense of humor and I like her so much more than the original. Also, you've made Christian seem about a gazillion times more professional! I'm really looking forward to see what you've planned, and what the connection between Christian and Ana is - for them to have met in High School, I suppose you've lessened the age difference a bit? Also, you might think about getting yourself your own thread - not that I'm trying to throw you out, mind, but maybe people who didn't like my story might like yours, and I don't want you to get lost or overlooked Yours Glass I honestly don't think it's really all that good, considering I don't really spend that much time on it, (then again, I feel that way about all my stuff) but I'm so glad you like it! =D I feel so mean for putting Kate through what I have, since she's pretty much the only likable character in the "original", if you don't count José or some of the minor ones. But then I always seem to be doing that with characters, whether they're mine or not. And I might've lessened the age difference, or maybe I have something else in mind, you'll just have to wait and see. ;p I was also thinking about posting it on another site or two when I get a bit further along, but to be honest, that thought kind of scares me. I don't really need more people saying what a crappy person I am or that I should kill myself because the story's so bad or whatever. Granted, I haven't had people tell me that yet, at least where writing's concerned, but pretty much every other person who's written stories like this gets told stuff like that. And I really don't want to run the risk of having EEL James coming after me because I'm "plagiarizing" her precious baby or something. She's done that a few times before already. To other people, I mean. And you really think I should make my own story thread? Maybe after I have more than one-and-a-half chapters, I'll wait until I have a full two before I think about it. XD
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Post by glasschmetterling on Jan 2, 2016 10:13:55 GMT
Oh my god, do people really do that? Because I totally wanted to post this story on FF.net and AO3, and now I'm worried that I'll get harassed or something... But, well, I'll have to finish it before that, so that'll be a few years. Also, I went and googled FSoG spite fics to see the comments, and stumbled over a real FSoG fanfiction, whose description read something like... "Christian Grey has an even bigger, darker secret." And I was only, "LOL, is there really FSoG AU fanfiction out there where Christian is a Vampire?" Also: How sad is it that one of the most likeable characters in the "original" trilogy is José, who hasn't quite grasped the concept of "consent" and is obviously incapable of believing it when a woman tells him to leave her alone because she's not interested?
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Post by muskratthemink on Jan 2, 2016 16:03:19 GMT
Oh my god, do people really do that? Because I totally wanted to post this story on FF.net and AO3, and now I'm worried that I'll get harassed or something... But, well, I'll have to finish it before that, so that'll be a few years. Also, I went and googled FSoG spite fics to see the comments, and stumbled over a real FSoG fanfiction, whose description read something like... "Christian Grey has an even bigger, darker secret." And I was only, "LOL, is there really FSoG AU fanfiction out there where Christian is a Vampire?" Also: How sad is it that one of the most likeable characters in the "original" trilogy is José, who hasn't quite grasped the concept of "consent" and is obviously incapable of believing it when a woman tells him to leave her alone because she's not interested? I find it even more sad that there are still people who find this series romantic, also that there are people who think the books are well-written. And yes, there really are people like that. There's a spitefic I'm reading on FF called Intervention of Ana (which is way better than the books), and a lot of the reviews are people telling the author that her story sucks and she should kill herself. I haven't looked for stories on AO3, but I'm guessing people there play the same game. Sigh, what is wrong with people now?
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Post by glasschmetterling on Feb 14, 2016 19:37:50 GMT
Okay, my first estimate was entirely correct. It is February now, but I'm here with a literally brand-new chapter for all of you. Really - I haven't even re-read the end, and I have not the faintest idea if it works or not or if it fits with the first four chapters... but here you go. Feedback would be MUCH appreciated. I also went back and change that "fancy" part, at least in my document. So thanks for that!
Up next after that, in a few months or so: A first peek into Christian's head, finals and a few books.
Fifty Shades Revisited – Chapter 5: Because Re-Reading is for ninnies and you'd probably never see this again The Heathman, all brown sandstone facade in the downtown of Portland, is just as impressive as the man we're here to meet, and I swallow another quiver of anxiety – and I've had plenty of those since he called me last night – before I deftly follow Kate inside. This is nothing to Grey House. You can do it. My confidence is bolstered by Kate's faith in me and her advice, and of course the fact that I've had a full evening and a whole night to drive myself craz... eh, I mean, mentally prepare myself for my date with Christian Grey. I wear my best jeans again, with my comfortable chucks – I'm a disaster waiting to happen on heels, and Kate, sensible as ever, has told me to “wear something comfortable and hot”. Privately, I think these two are mutually exclusive with me, but I've obeyed and put on my most flattering blouse, and of course Kate's very-nice-but-still-casual blazer. With a bit of make-up and hair that is surprisingly inclined to cooperate, falling down my shoulders in soft waves, I think I look halfway presentable. Unfortunately, “halfway presentable” is not good enough for a date with Christian Grey, and images of dozens of handsome, groomed blondes haunt me as I follow Kate to the reception and try to follow her conversation with the woman sitting behind it. Invariably, I fail, but while we wait for someone to show us the way, Kate gently presses my shoulder under José's curious gaze. Then the realization slams into me. Oh shit! He doesn't know! I've been so busy with pre-date jitters and Oh-my-god-what-shall-I-wear discussions that I completely forgot to tell José about Christian and and our coffee date. And I should have... because I know he's got a crush on me and jumping this on him cold is just plain cruel. I must be the shittiest friend ever! Miss Eternally-Patronizing purses her lips at me. There's nothing to tell him – he hasn't said this is a date, or has he? Part of me is amused at her conflicting impulses and the way she's inadvertently defending my actions, but I also know she's wrong. No matter what the situation between me and Grey really is, to José, this will look like a date, and therefore, all my earlier logic still applies. Shittiest friend, indeed. “Ana? You coming?” Kate is calling from the suite of elevators and I try to collect myself, then hastily follow her and the marketing executive who's showing us the way, glad that I'm not wearing heels. “You okay?”, mouths Kate while José is quietly talking to Travis, his assistant, and I nod towards José. Her mouth forms a perfect O as she realizes what the problem is, but a moment later, the young executive starts talking to her again, so she can't reply and I'm left staring at the mirrored wall, trying to decide what to do. I can't tell José now, can I? In front of all these people? But it will only get worse the longer I wait... I'm relieved when the elevator doors open and we and the tons of equipment we're carrying spill out into the hallway, especially as Kate brushes my arm and whispers “I'll take care of this!” into my ear as she passes me. Thank God I have Kate. I have no idea what she'll do, and how she can come up with a plan while talking effortlessly to the hotel employee and directing José and Travis to set their things up in the suite we were led to, really is beyond me, but I'm so happy I have her, and in awe at her management skills. I have not the faintest idea how I can repay her, ever! I busy myself by getting some of the chairs out of the way, miraculously not hurting myself in the process, and turn to stare out of the window while Kate pulls José aside, whispering a few words. I know he will be... not happy, but although he's making something incredibly complicated even more painful to me, I can't be angry at him. Not after that brief, painful pang of jealousy when I saw Mia's pretty, smiling face and her sleek black bob. I wince as the door opens behind us, but my brief flash of anxiety is quickly forgotten as I watch Christian Grey walk into the suite. White shirt, gray pants, his coppery hair still unruly and a bit damp from a shower. I want to run my hands through it, then find out what he looks like naked and wet. Pantsless Christian, who had been running wild in my imagination ever since that day at Clayton's, is joined by Naked-And-Wet Christian, and I lick my lips, convinced that all my thoughts are plainly written on my face for him to see. Shit. “Ms Steele, what a pleasure to see you again!” He makes a beeline for me immediately, even though literally every other person in the room is closer to the door than me, and even though I blush even more, I can't deny that I'm pleased. I shake his outstretched hand with a smile as I repeat, a little bit breathlessly, “The pleasure is all mine.” I see his gray eyes light up as I answer, and reluctantly let go of his hand, then turn towards Kate, who's stepped besides me. “My roommate and the editor of our student newspaper, Katherine Kavanagh.” “The tenacious Ms Kavanagh. How are you? I trust you're feeling better?” They shake hands, and even though they exchange smiles, I can feel a deeper undercurrent on Kate's side. Ordinarily, she'd be thrilled to finally meet the man she'd heard so much about, but the coolly appraising look in her eyes makes me realize that right now, Christian Grey is being vetted for the position of Anastasia Rose Steele's boyfriend. If this goes any further, you'll never lose that fire engine red again! Finally, Kate nods and lets go of his hand, and I'm faintly relieved that she didn't get into a hand-crushing contest with the man. “I'm very much improved, thank you. And thank you for taking the time to do this for us. We really appreciate it.” She smiles at him, and I step forward – right now, even introducing José is better than watching Kate with him. “This is our photographer, José Rodriguez.” José does not look happy, but he shakes Grey's hand nevertheless, and smiles at him, but I can see the hard edges around his mouth, and I hope Grey doesn't. “And his assistant, Travis Lewis.” Another round of smiles, another handshake, and then José directs Grey towards the wall we've cleared so he can take his first round of pictures while Kate, Travis and I step back a bit. I shamelessly stare at him while he poses, admiring his looks, the way he moves, the way he smiles and exchanges a few words with José now and then with that dark voice. Twice he catches my gaze, and twice I blush, but boldly keep my eyes on him. He smiles in response, and something in my stomach warms at the sight. “I think we have enough,” José announces ten minutes later, and Grey thanks him, then steps forward and attaches himself to my side almost instantly. José frowns softly, and I'm really glad that Kate has warned him, and is still in command of the situation. “Thank you, Mr Grey. I really appreciate this opportunity.” “I look forward to reading your article, Ms Kavanagh. Now, is there anything else you need?” “No, we're all settled, I think.” José and Travis have already started to pack their equipment again, and Grey shakes hands with both them and Kate, then gestures towards me. “Are you ready, Ms Steele?” Now that the big moment is there, I feel mesmerized by my fear and the intensity of his gaze, and it's only Kate's gentle hug that draws me out of it. “Remember to have fun,” she softly murmurs into my ear so he can't hear. “And his sister has the most awesome Pinterest page ever, with beautiful hanging arrangements.” All my tension dissipates into a big, girlish giggle. This is so much like Kate, to Google his sister to find out if he's been lying to me, but I love her for it. She and Grey are kinda similar, aren't they? Both control freaks! “Thanks, I will!” I whisper in reply, and then I turn around and face Grey with a happy and relieved smile. I know that Kate has my back, no matter what happens. “Where are we going?” He leads me outside into the hallway, where a tall man with a military buzz cut has obviously been waiting for him. I can feel his brown eyes appraising me for a moment – like I could be a threat to two grown men! – but then he relaxes and smiles. “Ms Steele, Jason Taylor, head of my security.” I startle. Of course he has a security team, silly you! He's a billionaire, for God's sake! Unfortunately, that helpful comment from Miss Know-it-all doesn't tell me what to do with Taylor, who's still looking at me. Should I shake his hand? Or something? My mother doesn't even have a cleaning lady, so I'm really at a loss, and when he doesn't extend his hand, I finally settle for an awkward smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr Taylor. I'm Anastasia Steele.” He politely nods at me, and only then it occurs to me that he probably knows my name already. I mean, he's security, he's supposed to know who he lets near his employer, right? At least the security people in about every Hollywood movie ever made do that. “Ms Steele.” Fortunately, Grey senses my discomfort, as he is wont to, and exchanges a short look with Taylor. “Thank you. I'll see you when I'm back.” Taylor nods and retreats down the hotel corridor, and I idly wonder that he lets his boss out of his sight at all, imagining a not-so-inconspicuous cleaning van following us all the way to wherever Grey wants to grab coffee. I cannot hide my grin, and Grey shoots me a questioning look, but I only shake my head softly. I'm sure neither Mr Grey nor Mr Taylor would appreciate my making fun of them, if only in my head. We make our way to the elevators in silence, and I feel I begin to frown. We should talk, shouldn't we? Talking is standard dating practice... but what should I say? That Grey doesn't seem inclined to begin the conversation makes me even more nervous. He's the uber-successful business tycoon. He's supposed to know how to talk to people! I'm not good with people, at all. A few options shoot through my head, all of them embarrassing and reason enough for him to leave me here and bolt from that shy, awkward, unappealing girl he picked up by chance. I've never been on a date! and I hate coffee and I'm only here so I can spend time with you! and Oh my God I never realized how rich you are! are all examined and quickly rejected. This is a disaster. Worse than Henry in ninth grade! The elevator doors open in front of us and we enter, and Grey's intense gaze makes me blush again. What did you expect? You're agreeing to a date with him, and then you're surprised he looks at you?Please. I'm so distracted by Miss Snark-makes-you-really-unappealing that I nearly miss Grey's soft question. “How long have you known Ms Kavanagh?” “Ah... erm...” I blush even more and resist the temptation to dig a hole and disappear in it, though the conditions couldn't be better for that plan, what with the conveniently placed elevator shaft. It's a question. A simple question. You can explain the major tendencies in English literature from Beowulf to the present in a heartbeat – talking to Christian Grey on mundane matters is a walk in the park compared to that! “We met in our freshman year, when I was struck in the parking lot because my car wouldn't start. She's been a life-saver from the very beginning.” He smiles down at me gently. “You seem very close.” “Yes, we are,” I reply quietly. I really wouldn't know what to do without Kate, and I'm really looking forward to moving to Seattle with her after our graduation. The task of finding a job or an internship and getting used to “real” adult life seems a lot less daunting with her at my side. On the other hand, Kate would still be eating ramen and take-away without me, so I guess it's a fair deal that we have? I smile. “What about you? Is there anyone you're particularly close to, except your sister?” He seems mildly surprised. “How do you know I'm close to my sister?” I look down at the elevator floor awkwardly. “Well... you don't seem like the type to do home decoration do it yourself projects, unless someone very important to you badgers you into helping them.” He laughs, and from the look on his face, half-pleased, half-embarrassed, I figure that I've gotten closer to the truth than he'd like. “Mia would like you. I can see the two of you ganging up on me already.” I gaze at him with a coy grin. “We'd have you wearing My Little Pony t-shirts in no time at all!” “If continue to look up at me with those eyes of yours, I don't doubt that you would.” The elevator plings, saving me from the task of coming up with a halfway coherent reply to his words, and we cross the lobby of the hotel, then step outside into the mild spring morning. “To answer your original question,” Grey continues as we turn left and begin walking, “I'm also close to my brother, Elliot. And, of course, my parents.” “No friends?” The question slips out before I can stop it, and I feel the way he falls out of step besides me for a moment. Oh shit. “I'm a very busy man, Ms Steele, and unfortunately, I can't always count on the people approaching me having only friendly motives.” Now it's my turn to startle – and flush. Of course I flush. Was that a warning? Or a scolding? I don't know, but my underdeveloped people senses are tingling near painfully. “I'm sorry.” He shakes his head in a soft, absent-minded gesture that could mean anything from “Don't be!” to “You're not sorry enough!” and we walk on in uncomfortable silence after the light at the crosswalk changes. I'm relieved when Christian finally holds the door of the Portland Coffee House, four blocks from the Heathman, open for me. “Thank you.” He – finally – smiles down at me again. “Why don't you choose a table while I get the drinks? What would you like?” “I'll have... um, English Breakfast tea, bag out, no milk, no sugar.” He raises his eyebrows. “No coffee?” “I'm not keen on coffee.” I flush, knowing that my words are as good as an admission of “I'm only here to spend time with you!” “Anything to eat?” “Nothing, thank you.” He nods and heads to the counter while I pick a table near the window where I can look out at the passing pedestrians. I couldn't possibly eat right now. My stomach's way too queasy with anxiety, and I'm glad that Kate had made me eat at least some breakfast back at home before we left, or I would be in real danger of fainting. Not that Christian Grey isn't enough to make you swoon, silly girl! Great. Miss Why-can't-you-get-out-of-my-head-already is absolutely the thing I need after insulting Christian Grey on our first date. My gazes wanders through the coffee shop and towards him, talking to the barista at the counter, then turning and shooting me a soft smile. I blush, but I return it, feeling a happy bubble rise in my chest for the first time today, driving my anxiety back. That's sweet of him. “Here we go.” He puts his tray down on the table with a grace I cannot ever hope to match and hands me my tea, then seats himself and pulls his blueberry muffin and his coffee over. “Thank you,” I say quietly and busy myself with my tea, preparing it to my liking – weak, very weak, and black. All the while, I can feel his gaze prickling on my skin, but I resist the temptation of looking up again until I have taken my first sip of tea and put down the cup again. Even though I like tea, me and hot fluids is not the safest combination on the best of days, even when my hands are not shaking slightly because of the man sitting across from me. “I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable.” His soft, gentle voice startles me, and I immediately go back on my resolution and do look up at him again. Soft concern shimmers in his deep, gray eyes. “Being uncomfortable around people is an occupational hazard with me.” Even though you make me more uncomfortable than others – in a good way. Well, most of the time. “Anything I can do?” His reply surprises me, and I frown at him. Most of the time, when people realize how shy and awkward I really am, they just tell me to get a grip, that the fault lies with me and is something that I should correct, like you correct faulty spelling with one stroke of a red pen. They don't realize that I can't change myself in a heartbeat, that I can't shake off years and years and years of mortification like it's nothing, and somehow, of all people, he, rich, powerful and confident Christian Grey seems to get it. Just like that. “Ms Steele? Are you all right?” His quiet and concerned voice makes me realize that I'm pressing my hand to my lips and I'm perilously close to crying, and I blink to get a grip. I really really really don't want to ruin the make-up I've worked on this morning for so long, and even waterproof mascara can only take so much. “I' m sorry. Yes. I'm only...” The absurdity of the situation hits me. I'm having a date with the most interesting, most attractive man I've ever met, and I'm nearly bawling my eyes out because I'm so surprised that he's also being kind and compassionate. It's either very, very sad, or very, very funny, and as I don't want to cry, I choose the second option, and a giggle escapes me. An awkward, embarrassed giggle, but a giggle nevertheless. “I... that was very kind of you.” He stares at me like I've lost my mind, and I really cannot blame him. “That I almost made you cry?” “No, that you of all people can understand what it is to be shy. I really didn't expect that.” “Oh.” He stares at me for a moment while I can almost see the wheels turning in his head, and then he smiles and tentatively reaches for my hand sitting on the small table. “Don't let people fool you, Anastasia. We all have something that we just can't shake.” When we walk back to the Heathman about an hour later, I'm nearly giddy with excitement, and if not for Christian's hand intertwined with mine, I'd add a ridiculous little jump to my every step. Not only are we on a first-name basis now – finally! – I also feel like I'm getting to know this serious, enigmatic man a little better. We've talked about his family and mine, about my finals and graduation and his work with WSU, and I've smiled and laughed with him again, like we did when he stopped by at Clayton's to do his “sister's bidding” (his words, not mine!). I would have loved to stay even longer – I'd even drunk coffee to do so – but my Bachelor's degree, or rather, the probable lack thereof, is calling, and I really need to go home and study. The timing is very inconvenient, with that gorgeous man looking down at me like I'm the most interesting thing in his universe right now. But I'm nothing if not practical, or at least my grandmother always said that, and so we make our way back to the Heathman where my car is parked. “Are you nervous?” Christian asks me, and I shrug a bit helplessly. Practical or not, my brain really insists that Christian Grey and his possible interest in me are way more interesting than the conclusion of my academic career, and I have to beat it into submission to form a halfway coherent reply. “I guess. I still have a lot more studying to do.” He smiles down at me, and his fingers brush over the back of my hand, making my skin prickle. “I'm sure you'll do well. You really have a passion for English... watch out!” I'm too focused on him and his mesmerizing voice to really take note of my surroundings, and I step forward before my overtaxed brain can process his warning. But he doesn't follow. Instead, he sharply tugs at my hand, and I fall backwards against his chest just as a cyclist whips past, narrowly missing me. “Shit, Ana!” he breathes out harshly, and I gasp as belated fear and adrenaline rush through my body. This could have easily gone the wrong way – the light at the crosswalk was green, but the guy not only ran his light, but also came from the wrong side of this one-way street. “Geez” I sigh, but when I want to touch my still heaving chest, I notice that my arms are as firmly wrapped around Christian as his are around me. I can feel the strength and warmth of his body through my thin blouse, and I inhale his scent that combines the comfort of freshly laundered linens with something that I can't quite place, but makes me want to nuzzle my nose against his neck. “Are you okay?” he whispers, and I have to call my shaking knees to order sternly before I finally look up into his steely gray eyes, ready to drown in them. Even though their expression is still unreadable, for a moment, I believe I can see something in them, something that sends a surge of lava into my stomach and makes my eyes drop to his beautiful mouth. Kiss me, damn it! I implore him, and I rise on my toes in anticipation, inch a little closer to him, because I desperately want to find out if his lips are as soft as I imagine to be against mine. “Ana, are you...” His words are quiet and gentle, and I struggle to make sense of them. My brain feels like someone went through it with a food processor, and that his hands are softly brushing over my arms as he steadies me does nothing to help me collect my thoughts. “I... I think I am. Slightly shaken, though.” I laugh that sad little laugh of mortification that I've perfected over the years, but he doesn't laugh with me, but instead gazes down at me with clouded, almost sad eyes. “I'm going to let you go, okay?” I nod mutely, as I feel my face flame, too busy wrestling with the disappointment engulfing me to answer him. He doesn't want you, he doesn't want you! that malicious voice inside of my cackles gleefully, and as usual, I have to agree. I think I've made it pretty damned obvious that I want him to kiss me, and the best he can come up with is “Ana, are you...?” Please! The spike of irritation only lasts for a second or two – then I realize that of course, the fault must lie with me. I must have screwed up. I must have said something, done something, that has repulsed him, even though I'd thought that this morning had gone so well, that we've had so much fun together... How can I be so wrong about this? Because you're delusional. Of course, Miss Dress-Me-Down provides the answer, as usual. I don't know how you got that stupid idea into your head, but that a man like him might want to have anything to do with someone like you is absolute ridiculous. He probably invited you for coffee because he pities you, and wanted to put you down nice and gently. And just that nice and gently, Christian lets go of me and steps back, carefully, as if he's not sure that I can hold myself upright. “Thank you,” I murmur, because I need to say something, and he nods, even though he's clearly confused. “For what?” “For the whole cyclist thing. And for the pictures, of course.” “Always.” His usually charismatic smile seems a bit flat and unsure this time. “Are you sure you're all right? You look really shaken.” That's because I am shaken. But it's not his fault that I'm crashing and burning now after getting my hopes up. I just shouldn't have had those hopes in the first place. I mean, Christian Grey, billionaire and philanthropist. What were you thinking, girl? “No, I'm fine, really.” I look up at him and summon my practiced saleswoman smile before I gesture towards the garage. “And now I really have to study. Have a nice day, Mr Grey.”
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