"... at the back of my mind, I'm worried that perhaps I've been too negative in my response to the contract. perhaps he'll call the whole thing off.
My mom is oozing contrition, desperately sorry not to make my graduation. Bob has twisted some ligament, which means he's hobbling all over the place. Honestly, he's as accident-prone as I am. He's expected to make a full recovery, but it means he's resting up, and my mother has to wait on him and and sore foot." -- you're kidding, right? first, if anything, you haven't been negative enough about this contract. second, if Bob twisted a ligament, there is absolutely no reason your mother shouldn't be able to make your graduation. the fuck do you think they make crutches for? unless he's broken his neck, Bob can take care of himself for two days. I call bullshit.
Somehow, Mom knows exactly what's going on with Ana without her having to say a word.
"'Ana, you sound distracted - are you okay, baby?'
'Yes, Mom,' Oh, if only you knew. There's an obscenely rich guy I've met and he wants some kind of strange kinky sexual relationship, in which I don't get a say in things." -- the longer you keep fucking him, the less valid your whining becomes. you're an adult. either keep fucking him, knowing full well what he wants, or get the fuck out.
Ana hangs up with her mom and finds that she's wandered into her room. She's like a character in the Sims, just walking around for no reason whatsoever.
"Idly, I switch the mean machine on and fire up the e-mail program." -- I hate you.
There's an email from Christian, responding to Ana's issues with the contract. As justification, he offers up the definition of "submissive" because that obviously should take care of everything. They argue for a few emails about whether or not Ana is allowed to drive her car to Christian's hotel and Ana finally wins.
"He's even grumpy by e-mail. Doesn't he understand that I may need to make a quick getaway? Not that my Beetle is quick . . . but still - I need a means of escape." -- if this is what's crossing your mind before having dinner with a man, probably you should just stay home.
The next day at work, Ana's coworker won't leave her alone.
"Paul is back from Princeton before he sets off for New York to start an internship with a financing company. He follows me around the store all day asking me for a date. It's annoying.
'Paul, for the hundredth time, I have a date this evening.'
'No, you don't, you're just saying that to avoid me. You're always avoiding me.'
.......
'Paul, I never thought it was a good idea to date the boss's brother.'
'You're finishing here on Friday. You're not working tomorrow.'
'And I'll be in Seattle as of Saturday and you'll be in New York soon. We couldn't get much farther apart if we tried.'" -- are you sure? are you reeeeeally sure? you're graduating from college this week and you think New York is as far away from Seattle as a person can get? also, how is it possible that someone as horribly vapid as you has so many men beating down her door?
Paul continues to press Ana for information on her date, and she gets more and more annoyed.
"'Who then?'
'Paul . . . oh.' My sigh is exasperated. he's not going to let this go. 'Christian Grey.' I cannot help the annoyance in my voice. But it does the trick. Paul's mouth falls open, and he gapes at me, struck dumb. Humph - even his name renders people speechless.
'You have a date with Christian Grey?' he says finally, once he's over the shock. Disbelief is evident in his voice.
'Yes.'
'I see.' Paul looks positively crestfallen, stunned even, and a very small part of me resents that he should find this a surprise. My inner goddess does, too. She makes a very vulgar and unattractive gesture at him with her fingers." -- we're all shocked, Ana. literally no one has any idea how you landed this guy.
Later that night, Ana is getting ready for her meeting with Christian.
"I shower, shave my legs and underarms, wash my hair, and then spend a good half hour drying it so that it falls in soft waves to my breasts and down my back. I slip a comb in to keep one side off my face and apply mascara and some lip gloss. I rarely wear makeup - it intimidates me. None of my literary heroines had to deal with makeup - maybe I'd know more about it if they had." -- DO YOU GO OUTSIDE
Ana arrives at the bar, and after garnering a chiding look from the valet for forcing him to park a beat up Volkswagen, enters. She sees Christian leaning against the bar and manages to make it over to him without stumbling through the lobby. They sit, Christian orders her wine, and the conversation begins.
"'Are you nervous?' he asks softly.
'Yes.'
He leans forward.
'Me, too,' he whispers conspiratorially. My eyes shoot up to meet his. Him? Nervous? Never. I blink, and he smiles his adorable lopsided smile at me."
IT LIVES
"The waiter arrives with my wine, a small dish of mixed nuts, and another of olives.
'So, how are we going to do this?' I ask. 'Run through my points one by one?'
'Impatient as ever, Miss Steele.'
'Well, I could ask you what you thought of the weather today.'
He smiles, and his long fingers reach down to collect an olive. He pops it in his mouth, and my eyes linger on his mouth, that mouth, that's been on me . . . all parts of me. I flush." -- god this is gross.
They continue talking, though Ana keeps getting distracted. Christian pulls out a printed version of her email, and starts from the beginning.
"He fishes into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. My e-mail.
'Clause 2. Agreed. This is for the benefit of us both. I shall redraft.'
I blink at him. Holy shit . . . we are going to go through each of these points one at a time."
He moves on to her issues on the sexual health clauses (why isn't he also required to prove to her that he's disease free and all that), and she is, once again, overcome by her own eyelashes.
"'All my recent tests are clear. I have never taken drugs. In fact, I'm vehemently antidrug. I have a strict no-tolerance policy with regards to drugs for all my employees, and I insist on random drug testing.'
Wow . . . control freakery gone mad. I blink at him, shocked."
She informs him that the contract is legally unenforceable, and he's confused as to why she'd ever think it was.
"'Anastasia, it doesn't matter if it's legal or not.'" -- uhhh, I'm gonna go ahead and say yes, it fucking does.
Christian asks if she's eaten today (of course not), and tells her that they can either eat in the bar or in his private suite. He asks her what she'd prefer to do, and when she says they should stay in public, he decides to move them into the private dining room. Because it's way more fun to give her the illusion of choice. They sit, oysters are brought out, and they begin discussing Ana's issues with the contract. She drinks more wine than she should and he tells her exactly what she wants to hear. At some point, conversation turns from the contract to how much Christian would like to fuck Ana over the table.
"'Christian. You just don't fight fair.'
'I know. I never have.'
My inner goddess frowns at me. You can do this, she coaxes - play this sex god at his own game. Can I? Okay. What to do? My inexperience is an albatross around my neck. Picking up a spear of asparagus, I gaze at him and bite my lip. Then very slowly put the tip of my cold asparagus in my mouth and suck it." -- RIP, asparagus.
Eventually, Ana musters up enough self-control to tell Christian she needs to leave. He tries to convince her to stay, but to no avail. He walks her outside and the valet brings her car around.
"'Will it make it to Seattle?'
'Yes. She will.'
'Safely?'
'Yes,' I snap, exasperated. 'Okay, she's old. But she's mine, and she's roadworthy. My stepdad bought it for me.'
'Oh, Anastasia, I think we can do better than this.'
'What do you mean?' Realization dawns. 'You are not buying me a car.'" -- spoiler alert: yes he is.
So, she climbs into her car, choking back tears (seriously), and drives off, lamenting about their relationship for four whole paragraphs.
"But the thought of not seeing him again is agonizing. How has he gotten under my skin so quickly? It can't just be the sex . . . can it? I dash the tears from my eyes. I don't want to examine my feelings for him. I'm frightened what I'll uncover if I do. What am I going to do?
I park outside our duplex." -- WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU LIVE? LITERALLY ONE CHAPTER AGO, YOU WENT FOR A RUN AND: "I take a deep, cleansing breath, and then jog back to the apartment." AND THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME THIS BULLSHIT HAS HAPPENED. YOU CAN'T SEEM TO DECIDE IF YOU LIVE IN A HOUSE THAT SHARES A WALL WITH ANOTHER HOUSE OR IN A SMALL SPACE CONTAINED IN A LARGE BUILDING WITH A LOT OF OTHER SMALL SPACES.
Just to clarify, in Chapter 2 of Grey, remember when Christian had that dude run the background check on her? Yeah. It says she lives in APARTMENT 7. Stop calling it a fucking duplex.
Fuck you, ELJ. Preferably with that peeled ginger root from Grey.
Ana gets to whatever structure it is in which she lives, and is relieved to find that Kate is absent. She doesn't want to see her crying, again. She turns on the "mean machine" (this is the second time she's called it that and I still don't know why), and there's an email from Christian waiting for her. He's confused about why she ran off and he's imploring her to really consider the arrangement he's offering. Naturally, this makes her more upset.
"His e-mail makes me weep more. I am not a merger. I am not an acquisition. Reading this, I might as well be. I don't reply. I just don't know what to say to him.... As I lie staring into the darkness, I think of all the times he warned me to stay away.
Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I'm not the man for you.
I don't do the girlfriend thing.
I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of guy.
I don't make love.
This is all I know.
And as I weep into my pillow silently, it's this last idea I cling to. This is all I know, too. Perhaps together we can chart a new course."
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