"I glance at the bedside table. On it is a glass of orange juice and two tablets. Advil. Control freak that he is, he thinks of everything." -- hey, don't be a bitch about it. he didn't have to give you shit.
Ana takes the Advil and is startled by a knock at the door. It's Christian, obviously, as this is his room, just getting back from a run.
"Holy hell, he's been working out. He's in gray sweatpants that hang, in that way, off his hips and a gray sleeveless T-shirt which is dark with sweat, like his hair. Christian Grey's sweat; the notion does odd things to me." -- ew. also that's a lot of description to fit into one sentence.
Christian asks how Ana is feeling, and she answers "better than I deserve," which doesn't make a whole lot of sense because one night of too much drinking does not make you undeserving of good things, but okay. She inquires as to how she got there - after she passed out, Christian didn't want to risk the leather in his car taking her all the way back to her apartment. After confirming that he also undressed her (so he could wash her disgusting jeans), she gets worried.
"'We didn't - ?' I whisper, my mouth drying in mortified horror as I can't complete the question. I stare at my hands.
'Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing. I like my women sentient and receptive,' he says dryly." -- except he TOTALLY thought about it and I should know - I blogged it.
She comments that she didn't ask him to come get her, and neither of them would have to deal with whatever this is if he hadn't tracked her down in the first place. His response is the right one to give, even if it's not the truth. I know, Grey. I've been inside your head.
"'If I hadn't come to get you, you'd probably be waking up in the photographer's bed, and from what I can remember, you weren't overly enthused about him pressing his suit,' he says acidly.
Pressing his suit! I glance up at Christian. He's glaring at me, eyes blazing, aggrieved. I try to bite my lip, but I fail to repress my giggle.
'Which medieval chronicle did you escape from? You sound like a courtly knight.'
His mood visibly shifts. His eyes soften and his expression warms, and there's a trace of a smile on his lips.
'Anastasia, I don't think so. Dark knight, maybe.'"
"'You need to eat. That's why you were so ill. Honestly, it's drinking rule number one.' He runs his hand through his hair, and I know it's because he's exasperated.
'Are you going to continue to scold me?'
'Is that what I'm doing?'
'I think so.'
'You're lucky I'm just scolding you.'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, if you were mine, you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday.'" -- I appreciate where you're coming from, Christian, but she doesn't actually have any idea what you're talking about. Honestly, this sounds like you would beat her. And we know punishment is your thing, but she doesn't. Please stop threatening to hurt her.
"I scowl back at him. What is his problem? What's it to him? If I was his . . . Well, I'm not. Though maybe part of me would like to be. The thought pierces through the irritation I feel at his high-handed words. I flush at the waywardness of my subconscious - she's doing her happy dance in a bright red hula skirt at the thought of being his."
Okay I know it's not red but cut me some slack.
Christian goes to take a shower and Ana finally lets out the breath that she's been holding for what I'm assuming is 2 pages. Unfortunately, as quickly as Christian left, he returns. This time in a towel. Ana panics and runs into the bathroom to shower so she can avoid a nearly-naked Christian.
"I reach for the body wash and it smells of him. It's a delicious smell. I rub it all over myself, fantasizing that it's him - him rubbing this heavenly scented soap into my body, across my breasts, over my stomach, between my thighs with his long-fingered hands." -- well. that pretty much ruined it for everyone.
After her shower, Ana finds a bag of clothes that Taylor got for her, since hers are being laundered. She exits the bedroom and wanders aimlessly into the rest of the suite, making more bizarre observations.
"There's an opulent, plush seating area, all overstuffed couches and soft cushions, an elaborate coffee table with a stack of large glossy books, a study area with the latest-generation iMac, and an enormous plasma screen TV on the wall. Christian is sitting at a dining table on the other side of the room reading a newspaper. It's the size of a tennis court or something, not that I play tennis, though I have watched Kate a few times." -- First, why are you babbling like you're on an uncomfortable first date with the reader? Second, is the newspaper the size of a maybe tennis court? Of course I know it isn't but this is the kind of thing your editors should be thinking about, ELJ.
They eat breakfast, and Ana notices that Christian remembers the way she takes her tea. (Page 42: "I pop the teabag into the teapot and almost immediately fish it out again with my teaspoon. 'I like my tea black and weak,' I mutter as an explanation." -- for the record, that's barely even flavored water, let alone tea, you pretentious fuck.) She asks him why he sent her the books.
"'I felt I owed you an apology and a warning.' He runs his hand through his hair. 'Anastasia, I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of man . . . I don't do romance. My tastes are very singular. You should steer clear of me.' He closes his eyes as if in defeat. 'There's something about you, though, and I'm finding it impossible to stay away. But I think you've figured that out already.'" -- no, I mean, you only showed up at her job and then tracked her phone to show up at the bar she was at and now she's waking up in your hotel room. that's not weird at all. Also, "you should steer clear of me" and "I'm finding it impossible to stay away" are very conflicting things to say to a person in the same conversation. It's basically, "you can ignore me all you want. but we both know I can find you."
They talk a little bit about what Ana is doing over the next few days (working and packing, mostly), and Christian asks what she's going to do for work once she moves. She says that she's applied to a few internships (which are not jobs, by the way, as most of them don't pay you?????????), and Christian inquires as to whether she's applied with his company yet. Of course, she hasn't.
"'Are you smirking at me, Miss Steele?' He tilts his head to one side, and I think he looks amused, but it's hard to tell. I flush and glance down at my unfinished breakfast. I can't look him in the eye when he uses that tone of voice.
'I'd like to bite that lip,' he whispers darkly.
I gasp, completely unaware that I am chewing my bottom lip and my mouth pops open. That has to be the sexiest thing anybody has ever said to me." -- you first held hands with a boy 3 days ago. this is not a surprise.
Ana suggests that Christian should bite her lip, but he explains that he won't touch her until he has her written consent - which is not the sort of thing a potential sexual partner usually says to another person, but I guess that's okay. He says there are things he has to show her before she can agree to let him touch her, and she is eager to know, but Christian says she'll have to wait until either that evening or a night the following week.
"'Why can't you tell me now?'
'Because I'm enjoying my breakfast and your company. Once you're enlightened, you probably won't want to see me again.'
What does that mean? Does he white-slave small children to some godforsaken part of the planet?" -- I'm sorry. Does he what?
Ana decides that she wants to find out what's going on that night, so Christian arranges to fly her from work in Portland to Seattle.
"'Taylor. I'm going to need Charlie Tango.'
Charlie Tango! Who's he?
'From Portland at, say, twenty thirty . . . No, standby at Escala . . . All night.'
All night!
'Yes. On call tomorrow morning. I'll pilot from Portland to Seattle.'
Pilot?
'Standby pilot from twenty-two thirty.' He puts the phone down. No please or thank you.
'Do people always do what you tell them?'
'Usually, if they want to keep their jobs,' he says, deadpan.
'And if they don't work for you?'
'Oh, I can be very persuasive, Anastasia. You should finish your breakfast. And then I'll drop you off at home. I'll pick you up at Clayton's at eight when you finish. We'll fly up to Seattle.'
I blink at him rapidly."
When Ana is done with her breakfast, Christian tells her he'll take her home once she's dried her hair because he doesn't want her to get sick. Ana agrees, and as she's getting up from the table, inquires as to where Christian slept the night before.
"'Where did you sleep last night?' I turn to gaze at him still sitting in the dining room chair. I can't see any blankets or sheets out here - perhaps he's had them tidied away.
'In my bed,' he says simply, his gaze impassive again.
'Oh.'
'Yes, it was quite a novelty for me, too.' He smiles.
'Not having . . . sex.' There - I said the word. I blush - of course. (YOU CAN'T SAY THE WORD WITHOUT BLUSHING YOU ARE AN ADULT AND NEED TO PULL YOURSELF OUT OF THE FIFTH GRADE)
'No.' He shakes his head and frowns as if recalling something uncomfortable. 'Sleeping with someone' He picks up his newspaper and continues to read.
What in heaven's name does that mean? He's never slept with anyone? He's a virgin?" -- Ohmygod you really are stupid, aren't you? How have you made it through 21 years of life? How? HOW.
She goes into the bedroom and dries her hair.
"I want to brush my teeth. I eye Christian's toothbrush. It would be like having him in my mouth." -- except that's not what it would be like at all do not do this.
They leave so Christian can drive Ana to work, and things get intense in the elevator.
"The elevator arrives, and we step in. We're alone. Suddenly, for some inexplicable reason, possibly our proximity in such an enclosed space, the atmosphere between us changes, charged with an electric, exhilarating anticipation. My breathing alters as my heart races. His head turns fractionally toward me, his eyes darkest slate. I bite my lip.
'Oh, fuck the paperwork,' he growls. He lunges at me, pushing me against the wall of the elevator. Before I know it, he's got both of my hands in one of his in a viselike grip above my head, and he's pinning me to the wall using his hips. ..... I'm helpless, my hands pinned, my face held, and his hips restraining me. His erection is against my belly. Oh my . . . He wants me. Christian Grey, Greek god, wants me, and I want him, here . . . now, in the elevator.
'You. Are. So. Sweet,' he murmurs, each word a staccato." -- does anyone talk like this????
"I glance up at him. He looks so cool and calm, like he's been doing the Seattle Times crossword. How unfair. Is he totally unaffected by my presence? He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes, and he gently blows out a deep breath. Oh, he's affected all right - and my very small inner goddess sways in a gentle victorious samba."
Ohhhhkay, Ana.
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