"He grins, leaps up off the bed, and pulls on his jeans - no underwear!" -- well no, you idiot. he's likely going to just rip his jeans off again the second he's alone with you. who needs underwear?
"His mother! Holy crap. I have no clean clothes, and she's practically walked in on us in flagrante delicto." -- in case you're wondering, like I was, what the fuck this means, it's Latin for "in blazing offence" and there is literally no fucking way Ana knew what the hell this meant. She's the dumbest college graduate in the free world, as evidenced by her blatant inability to read interview questions before she asks them, and you want me to believe she fucking knows Latin? Fuck you.
Christian tells her she can wear something of his and then he "runs his hand through his just-fucked hair." At this point in the book though, Christian's hair is always "just-fucked" because ELJ doesn't know how to construct plot so just decided to fill the pages with as many dicks as she possibly could. Ana checks herself in the mirror and realizes that "just-fucked pigtails" don't suit her. That's because you're a 22 year old woman who has no business wearing her hair in any pigtails, just-fucked or not.
"'So how did you two meet?' She looks questioningly at Christian, unable to hide her curiosity.
'Anastasia interviewed me for the student paper at WSU because I'm conferring the degrees there this week.'
Double crap. I'd forgotten that." -- We know. In fact, you'd forgotten about it 10 minutes after you found out about it. Remember that? When you thought you'd never have to see him again? I do. Because I blogged itttttt.
See?
As Ana is meeting Christian's mother (Marcia Gay Harden in the film, in case you were curious), her phone rings. She thinks it's Kate, but SURPRISE, it's actually Jose calling to apologize for very nearly giving her enough cause for a restraining order 6 chapters ago. He's mad that she's in Seattle with Christian, and Christian is mad that he called, because neither of them regard Ana as a person, but rather as a prize in some competition I'm pretty sure she didn't agree to. Christian disappears into his study and returns a second later with the contract.
"'This is the contract. Read it, and we'll discuss it next weekend. May I suggest you do some research, so you know what's involved.' He pauses. 'That's if you agree, and I really hope you do,' he adds, his tone softer, anxious.
'Research?'
'You'll be amazed what you can find on the Internet,' he murmurs.
Internet! I don't have access to a computer, only Kate's laptop, and I couldn't use the one at Clayton's, not for this sort of "research" surely." -- For fuck's sake, really???? You don't have access to a computer? But you've somehow managed to get through 4 years of being an ENGLISH MAJOR??? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. YOU'RE GRADUATING THIS WEEK YOUR SCHOOL'S LIBRARY IS NOT GOING TO LET YOU USE THEIR SHIT ANYMORE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU
Ana tells Christian she needs to make a phone call (to Kate) and his reaction is, well, ridiculous.
"'The photographer?' His jaw clenches and his eyes burn. I blink at him. 'I don't like to share, Miss Steele. Remember that.' His quiet, chilling tone is a warning, and with one long, cold look at me, he heads back to the bedroom." -- holy fuck, Christian. this is not the way to get a girl to sign a legally-ambiguous contract. also...
ELJ has forever ruined blinking.
They leave Christian's apartment and begin the drive to Portland.
"People stare at us as we drive through the streets. For a moment, I think it's at him . . . and then a very paranoid part thinks everyone is looking at me because they know what I've been doing during the last twelve hours, but finally I realize it's the car." -- OF COURSE IT'S THE CAR? EVEN IF EVERYONE DID KNOW WHAT YOU HAD BEEN DOING (OMG NOT SEX), LITERALLY NO ONE CARES ABOUT WHERE YOUR VAGINA HAS BEEN.
They continue driving and Christian turns on Bruce Springsteen.
"Bruce is singing about being on fire and his desire. How apt. I flush as I listen to the words. Christian glances at me. He's got his Ray-Bans on so I can't see what he's feeling." -- I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that the sunglasses are not the problem:
Page 12: "I can't help thinking that we're talking about something else, but I'm mystified as to what it is."
Page 15: "And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I'm not sure which."
Page 16: "If he notices my reaction, he gives nothing away."
Page 31: "His expression is impassive, but his words . . . it's like he's saying something else entirely. It's baffling."
Page 66: "He's staring at me, gray eyes dark, and as usual, I have no idea what he's thinking. He hides his thoughts and feelings so well."
Page 68: "Yet he's so antagonizing, too; he's difficult, complicated, and confusing."
Page 77: "Christian is watching me as I tie my hair back, his expression unreadable."
On their way back to Portland, Christian asks Ana if she's hungry. She says no, but he drives them to a restaurant anyway. After sitting down and having exactly one sip of wine, Ana decides this very public venue is as good a place as any to start asking questions.
"'What's vanilla sex?' I ask, if anything to distract myself from the intense, burning, sexy look he's giving me (this is not the question I would ask to get rid of that look, but fine). He laughs.
'Just straightforward sex, Anastasia. No toys, no add-ons.' He shrugs. 'You know . . . well, actually you don't, but that's what it means.'
'Oh.' I thought it was chocolate fudge brownie sex that we had, with a cherry on the top. But hey, what do I know?" -- Could we just stop using food to describe sex? Please?
Ana goes home and tells Kate about her very first sexual encounter, but is very careful to not violate the non-disclosure agreement she signed.
"My subconscious glares at me, wagging her long, skinny finger (so it's not just Christian's fingers we're obsessed with), then morphs into the scales of justice to remind me he could sue if I disclose too much." -- you're fucking kidding, right?
Ana asks Kate to tell her about Elliot, I presume to get the spotlight off of her.
"Kate blushes. Oh my . . . Katherine Agnes Kavanagh goes all Anastasia Rose Steele on me." -- I hate you so much.
After a little more dishing, Kate tells Ana she got some mail and Ana is thrilled to discover that she has landed interviews for internships (which, by the way, Ana, are not jobs - also, who the hell discovers this by mail? no one in this series uses the phone).
"'Hey, I have interviews! The week after next, in Seattle, for intern placements!'
'For which publishing house?'
'For both of them!' (yes, all two publishing houses in Seattle)
'I told you your GPA would open doors, Ana.'" -- I seriously doubt that's what happened, but okay.
Jose calls for the millionth time that day, and Ana finally talks to him.
"'Ana, you're back!' Jose shouts his relief at me.
'Obviously.' Sarcasm drips from my voice, and I roll my eyes at the phone.
He's silent for a moment.
'Can I see you now? I'm sorry about Friday night. I was drunk and you . . . well. Ana - please forgive me.'
'Of course, I forgive you Jose. Just don't do it again. You know I don't feel like that about you.'" -- hell no. HELLLLL NO. I know this "being wanted" thing is a new concept for you, Ana, but you don't just forgive someone for crossing a line like that. This is why you end up in the situation you do at the end of the book. Grow a fucking backbone.
Once Ana is off the phone, it rings again, and it's Elliot. Kate takes the phone into her room and Ana is left on the couch. She tries to watch TV, but her mind continues to drift back to Christian and the contract she has in her purse. She's troubled because both Christian and Jose want something from her, though I'm not entirely sure why she's even worried about Jose, since she's not interested. She buries her head in her hands and wonders what she's going to do about Christian.
"He's such a complicated person. And now I have an insight as to why. A young man deprived of his adolescence, sexually abused by some evil Mrs. Robinson figure . . . no wonder he's old before his time." -- oh, so we're romanticizing his past to make what he's going to do to you in 300 pages okay. I see.
"If I'd not met him, I'd still be sweetly and blissfully oblivious. My mind drifts to last night and this morning . . . and the incredible sensual sexuality I'd experienced. Do I want to say good-bye to that? No! screams my subconscious . . . my inner goddess nodes in Zen-like agreement with her." -- HOW MANY FUCKING PEOPLE DO YOU HAVE IN THERE
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