I do not own Fifty Shades or any of these characters,

All Rights go to E.L. James.

~ Chapter 1: Freedom is a rock-hard mattress ~

"Are you sure?" my father asked for the millionth time, as he peered into the dull little room. His expression had molded into something of disgust as he scans the space, his eyes widened at the sight of the outdated furniture: a bunk bed, two work desks, and two tiny dressers.

"Phoebe, this is ridiculous—"

"You promised!" I reminded him.

He furrowed his brow, "Yes, but—"

"We had a deal!"

Our deal: my impossible, arrogant, over-protective father would allow me to live in the campus residence under two conditions:

1. The residence was girls-only (absolutely NO BOYS were allowed in my room)

2. Welch, his personal head-of-security, was able to do a full background-check on my future room-mate. Additionally, my father needed to approve of her.

Both of which I obliged. I mean, my father would have called for a background-check anyway—there's really no stopping him there, and well, considering the fact that I've spent the past thirteen years of my life at an all-girls private school (at the request of my father, of course), I wasn't used to having boys around anyway.

"Phoebe—"

I rolled my eyes, "Dad, it's part of the college experience."

Sighing, he stepped into the room, placing the large cardboard box he held onto the floor, "Are all of these books really necessary?"

I opened my mouth to make a sarcastic comment but was cut off by my father's trite ringtone.

"Taylor?" He answered, glancing up at me before shuffling out of the room, "Yes. That's exactly it…How soon...?"

"Ignore your father," My mother finally said after my father's fragmented telephone conversation was a mere muffle in the hallway outside of my dorm room, "He's just bitter that he has to say goodbye to his little girl."

I spotted her standing in the door-way, smiling, her dark mane cascading down her shoulders-the same dark mop that framed my face. Ignore your father. Pssht. No point in telling me, I've had 18 years of practice.

I spread my arms out and threw myself down onto the bottom bunk. My body hit the yellowed mattress with a soft clunk and no bounce; I winced. Ah, college life.

"You know, all he wants is what's best for you," My mother chirped, leaning her head on the wall.

"All he wants," I snapped, still sprawled on the bed, "is to have me locked away in an ivory tower."

My mother laughed.

"Seriously," I frowned, "How does a mega entrepreneur and CEO of a leading corporation find time to shelter a girl her whole life?"

"Christian Grey…has his ways…" My mother muttered, fumbling over her words and finally biting her lips to keep further fragments from spilling out. She paused, as if mulling a thought over, "You're going to love Washington State."

I smiled, looking up at the bristle ceiling of my bottom bunk, "I hope so."

Hands appeared from behind her and wrapped themselves around my mother's waist. I glanced over from my sprawl on the bed to see my father kiss her hair.

"Christian," She hummed.

"Taylor's back, are you ready to go home?"

I could feel my mother's worried eyes on me, "The house will feel so empty with both her and Teddy away…"

"You know," My father began, still holding my mother close, "You don't have to go to college-"

"Dad-"

"We have a few intern-ships that will be available in a few months-"

"Christian," my mother warned.

He sighed, letting go of my mother's waist to run a hand through his greying hair.

My mother turned to face him, "If Phoebe doesn't need help unpacking, we should probably start heading back to Seattle."

On cue, I swung my pale legs off of the bed and lifted myself up, ever-so-gracefully hitting my head on the upper bunk. Jeez. I rubbed my forehead.

"We haven't even left yet and she's already managed to hurt herself," My father's jaw flexed as he inhaled and exhaled sharply before addressing my mother, "One of your traits, no doubt."

My mother blushed.

"Look," I said, flattening the floral skirt of my dress down over my knees, and slowly getting up off the bed—this time weary of the bristle above me, "I'll be fine. I don't need any help setting this place up—you guys can go. I'll be fine, I swear."

My father looked hesitant.

"I'll be fine," I repeated, this time quieter.

My mother stepped towards me and wrapped me in her arms, hugging me to her chest, "We're going to miss you, angel."

I smiled, hugging her back. As she let go, my father swooped in with an embrace of his own, kissing my forehead.

"Behave," he warned.

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, yeah."

I watched my parents saunter out of my dorm room, my father's figure halting at the door-way to look back at me, "Phoebe, if you need anything else—"

"I'll be fine."

His eyes were on the chipped wooden flooring as he nodded to himself. When he finally looked back up at me again, I noticed a new softness and tenderness in his eyes.

He sighed, "Well, good luck with your studies. You know that your mother and I are a mere drive or phone call away."

I smirked, "I also know that you put a tracking device in my phone."

He mirrored my smirk, "That's my girl."

"Bye daddy."

"Goodbye, my angel."

Once alone, I smiled to myself and welcomingly inhaled the stale dorm air. I pulled my thick dark mane back into a ponytail, tying it with the thick elastic that I wore on my wrist, and made my way to the small window that looked out to a campus courtyard. I tried to open it with my full force but failed and instead left little indented marks on my palms. There was something about my attempt that made me laugh out loud.

This is it. Freedom. At last! My insides did somersaults and cartwheels. If the price of freedom was decade old mattresses and broken too-small windows, I was totally cool with that.

A sudden noise from the door-way made me gasp. Turning around, I found myself face-to-face with a girl with hair the colour of fire. She somehow reminded me of a lion. Maybe it was the way that her volumous mane framed her small, heart-shaped face, or maybe it was her seemingly powerful stance. Her limbs were terribly thin, and on them hung a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans and a black strapless top with peplum flair. A small belly-button ring was barely visible beneath the material.

"Where's the closest Starbucks?" Her voice was slightly shrill, with a valley accent, "I drove here from Victoria, and I swear I'll fall asleep if I don't get any caffeine in me."

This was the room-mate my father had approved of?