CHAPTER 2 – THE MORNING AFTER

So I put my faith in something unknown,
I'm living on such sweet nothing.
But I'm tired of hope with nothing to hold,
I'm living on such sweet nothing.
And it's hard to learn, and it's hard to love,
when you're giving me such sweet nothing.

-Sweet Nothing (Calvin Harris ft. Florence Welch)-

(Ana's POV)

I lean against the door, frowning as I replay what just happened. Had that gorgeous man really just walked me home? Even more surprising, had I just left him standing there without so much as a goodbye?

Of course you did my inner self smirks in disdain. Yes, that does sound like something I would do.

Idiot!

I kick off my shoes and grab a bottle of water before heading to my room. Slipping into a pair of cotton boxer shorts and an oversized shirt, I climb into the comforts of my bed hidden underneath the shadowy darkness of the late hours of the night.

Christian Grey.

That was the name of the guy who had come up to me at the bar. The fact the I can even place myself in that sentence that includes both 'guy' and 'bar' is laughable, yet it was somehow true. I wasn't familiar with who he was, not like Kate was, but I know she's mentioned him before. She had spent weeks trying to get an interview with him for this year's WSU graduation ceremony. Despite her dad's company Kavanagh Media having done some press work for Christian and his company in the past, Kate was determined to get the interview on her own. In typical Kate-fashion she had put her charming ways to work and eventually Christian's camp relented. Her interview with him would be the crème de la crème of her college career; the fact that she would be able to get one with him, a notoriously private business tycoon, would hopefully throw her name out into the world of journalism as she began to make a name for herself.

Other than knowing he was a prominent businessman and that he'd be handing out our degrees in a few days, I really didn't know anything about him. Yet, even though he was completely unknown to me I couldn't get him out of my head. The smoky grey of his eyes, the softness of his lips, the warmth of his body next to mine…

I have been on a few 'sort of' dates in the past, but my inability to believe that anyone could possibly be interested in me left me a recluse during most of college. I didn't mind, I was adamant on keeping my head down and buried in books, focused on my studies. It had paid off as I finished with a 4.0 GPA, but at what cost? I definitely had more than a few moments of self-loathing where I wished I could have been more like Kate – confident, interesting, and not at all like my awkward self so I could have met someone nice. Not that Kate had had a serious relationship during the four years we've lived together; she's more of a serial dater, but at least she didn't spend every night alone. Despite that, sometimes I just wished I could be Kate.

Kate. I can't help but shake my head. I love her, she's been my absolute lifeline these past few years, but I can't help the times I've felt jealous or angry towards her. She is the epitome of perfection: tall, blond, beautiful, wealthy, and smart to boot. Even though she's always insisted I'm a 'total babe' and could get any guy I wanted, I always felt – feel – like the ugly step-sister next to her. I'm plain, boring, and ordinary. It's no wonder I've gone all through college with my virginity intact.

Regardless, I wouldn't have survived life without her. She has been there for me through all the ups and downs of moving away from home, the late-night cram sessions, tearful meltdowns, stressful finals, and weekend benders of doing nothing but watching bad TV and eating our weight in junk food. So for all my jealousy towards her, I couldn't have asked for a better best friend or sister. Even on nights like tonight, which is rare that I even go out, I could never stay mad at Kate for being Kate.

*I'm home. Get home safe, you owe me for being a bad friend. – A*

*Done. I'll be home soon. Xoxo. – K*

I can't help but smile. Over the years we've both traded off the title of who's been a worse friend. Things happen, and sometimes we let each other down: one of us is late, or can't be there or something or other that leaves one of us the better friend, and one of us the worst. And so, we've learned to master the art of making it up to each other the next day by going overboard – a feat that Kate has learnt to master more so than I've had to. But Kate's word is as good as gold, so I look forward to seeing how she'll make it up to me in the morning.

Just before drifting off to sleep, images of the handsome Christian Grey flutter about in my head once more. I can't make any sense of our… meeting? Run in? I don't even know what to call it. One minute I'm sitting at the bar counting down the seconds before going home, the next he's offering me a drink and kissing me.

We hadn't spoken much at all, and all I knew at the end of the night was his name and that he had wanted to make sure I got home safe. But why? I could sort of understand if he had tried something, but it was all for nothing. He didn't try to kiss me again or come inside. Had he really just wanted to make sure I didn't end up mugged on the street?

Stop it! I grumble to myself. There was no use in overthinking this. We had spoken for maybe all of five minutes and there is no way a boy – a man – like Christian Grey would ever be interested in someone as average as myself. I'll never know why he felt the need to walk me home, but he did, and it's over now.

But that kiss…

No! With one last sigh I try to push him out of my head before falling into a fitful sleep where I'm all alone once more.

"Rise and shine sleepyhead!" The unmistakeable cheery trill of Kate Kavanagh's voice rings through my room with the curtains pulled back and the room flooded with sunlight. "I've got breakfast with a side of apology!" She chirps sitting on my bed, nudging at my legs to make room for herself.

Groaning, I pull the pillow over my head to block out the light and voices. I hate mornings; the only thing I hate more were cheerful people in the mornings. Kate was one of those people.

"Ana Steele, wake up!" Kate admonishes, shaking me awake. "You know I won't leave, so you might as well eat your breakfast while it's still warm."

Grumbling a few choice words for her, I am met by her bright smile and a breakfast sandwich outstretched in her hand from my favorite deli. In the other, is a paper cup with my favorite tea made just the way I like it. I smile knowing she must have gone across town to get these.

"I'm sorry for being such a wretched friend last night. I was a total bitch and flake." She pouts as I take the peace offering. "Forgiven?"

"Forgiven." Of course, I could never be mad at her for long. Satisfied, she lets out a sigh of relief before devouring her own breakfast. It's only then that I realize Kate's still dressed in the clothes from the bar last night.

"Did you just get home?" I ask in between bites, wiping ay my face with a napkin. Grinning, Kate nods her head.

"Who were you with all night?" I try not to sound like her mother, but a part of me feels hurt that Kate had stayed out all night after saying she was on her way home. Hurt or jealous? That was hours ago. "And what happened with that guy?"

"I was just with that group of guys I was with when you left. They don't actually go to WSU or anything but are from out of town. They were a lot of fun; I wish you would have stayed."

"And what? Been ignored the whole night? No thank you." I state dully, earning an eye roll and exasperated sigh from Kate.

"That's not what would've happened." Kate begins, though we both know Kate gets incredibly flakey when she drinks. "And nothing happened with that guy. Well nothing more. He wasn't that good." She shrugs her shoulders. "You really need to keep a better eye on me. That was a situation that never should've happened. Blech." She shudders dramatically. "So now that you know about my night, what about your night?" Her suggestive wriggling of eyebrows makes me groan in annoyance.

"You know nothing happened. I left."

"With Christian Grey!"

"He just walked me home that's all. Even though I told him not to."

"Are you crazy?! You were KISSING him when I found you! What the fuck was that about?" Kate shrieks in remembrance. "That man, who is quite possibly the hottest fucking man ever, offered to take you home and you said no? What is the matter with you?!"

"Kate, he was probably just being polite. He didn't want some mugger to attack me or something. Nothing happened."

Scoffing, Kate continues to stare at me in shock and mild annoyance. "And the kiss? So he just walked you home? Did you guys talk? What did he say? What happened when he dropped you off, did you invite him in?"

I rub at my temples at the flurry of questions bombarding me.

"No, we didn't talk. And no, I didn't invite him in." I shrug because there is nothing more to say. "He just walked me home, and that was the end of the night so I went inside. And it was just that one kiss at the bar."

Gaping at me, Kate lets out a forced breath through her nose.

"The fact that you didn't invite him inside and finally lose your virginity to the world's sexiest man tells me something is seriously wrong with you. I don't care if you had to tie him up and make him have sex with you; the fact that Christian Grey offered to take you home and you did nothing is appalling!"

Snorting at the ridiculousness that is Kate, I shake my head. "Even if I did tie him up, he would never have had sex with me! If anything, he would have had sex with you!"

Kate grins at the thought. "The things I would do to him…" She muses, before we both begin to giggle. "Oh, did he say anything about me? God, I was a drunken mess when I saw him at the bar wasn't I? What was he doing there anyways? It's a little low-brow for someone like him."

"Speaking of, I wanted to ask, what exactly does he do? You've talked about him but I realized last night I know nothing about him."

"Christian Grey is a self-made billionaire. With a 'B'. He's only a few years older than us, but he's the CEO of his own company that buys, rebuilds or sells struggling companies. He practically owns half of Seattle, as well as other companies around the world. Everything the man touches turns to gold. He's one of richest men in the country!"

I stare, dumbstruck that I had been in his presence. "Really?" He seemed so normal and regular, but at the same time it was easy to see how he commanded attention by his mere presence. I remember the way others were looking at him – men and women – desperate for his attention. He simply shrugged them off, nonchalantly dismissing them. Except when he looked at me; I somehow got his attention.

"Exactly! That's why I've wanted to get this interview so bad. He's one of the youngest billionaires and far beyond successful than most men will be in their entire life. He also does a lot of charity work – feeding the hungry, saving the world, that sort of thing. He's like the perfect man."

"No kidding." I mumble to myself.

"Now do you see why you should have bagged him while you had the chance? He's like impossible to get to – normally he's surrounded by his own security team and he doesn't hang with us common folk. He must really like you if he came up to you."

I stare at her blandly, because I've spent all night wondering the same thing – why did he come up to me? And would he have actually done anything if I had showed the slightest interest?

I really must learn not to be so rude to people.

After breakfast Kate finally crashes in her own room, out for the count. I steal her laptop and do some lighthearted research on Christian, though I find myself browsing the Google images section instead. Damn, he really is the most beautiful man.

There are pages and pages of him – professional photos from magazines and articles, at benefits or galas, or in the society pages. There is not one bad photo of him; and even more curious, no personal ones. All photos appear to be prearranged and planned; no scandalous pictures of him drunk or passed out at bars, stumbling out of hotel rooms, or brawling in the streets. Surely for someone as notorious as him should have some gossip written about him or some sleazy paparazzi shots floating about. Interesting, could he be a saint as well?

I later skim the links, though my mind is unable to focus for too long. Most of what's written concerns his businesses and all I take away from it are terms such as 'mergers' and 'acquisitions'. Sighing in defeat, that man is like a ghost, I return the laptop to Kate's room where she is still sound asleep.

The rest of my day is spent actively trying not to think about him. You don't know him. You didn't even talk to him. Stop! You're delusional if you think your five minutes with him meant anything. Get over it.

Huffing in frustration at myself, I can't help but feel the tiniest chance that maybe I'm not reading too much into this. He had been the one to kiss me after all. He was the one who had followed me outside. Regardless of intentions, he was the one chasing after me… that had to count for something, right?

Kate finally wakes up in time for dinner, her long blond hair in perfect disarray as she stomps into the kitchen. Wearing nothing but a pair of boy-cut panties and a baggy hoodie, she still manages to look far better than I ever could.

"God, why do you let met drink so much? You need to be a better babysitter." She grumbles, sitting at the table with her head in her hands. "No more drinking for a while." She declares, though we both know that come next weekend Kate's going to be begging me to go out with her again. "Did you at least have fun? We've just moved here, we really should get to know what's around here."

I shrug my shoulders. She's right, but I'm not the type that likes going out. The loud music and the crowds just don't do it for me; I'd much rather be curled up in bed with a good book. I really am the oldest 22-year old in the world.

Setting down the salad and the stir fry I had made, Kate smiles in appreciation. For all the wealth and knowledge that Kate has, cooking is certainly not in her arsenal. She can command an entire room to look at her, appraise a fake handbag a mile away, or flirt her way out of any parking or speeding ticket, but when it comes to preparing anything even remotely edible she is at a complete loss. Hastily scooping the food into her mouth with barely a moment to breathe, I just shake my head as I pick at my own food.

"What have you done all day?" Kate asks after most of her plate is finished, washing it down with a large gulp of water.

"Nothing." I shrug, which is partially true. My research only seemed to confuse me more; I was hoping I'd find out he was a womanizer, a criminal or something that way I could stop thinking about him. But if anything, it only swayed him more in my favor.

He is just too perfect.

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews/favorites/follows! Reviews are greatly appreciated!