Christian POV

Once, like six months ago I was sitting in a coffeehouse drinking my coffee, and eating my croissant after my morning run. The waitress, an average woman around her 30's, came over to me to pour me more coffee. She started talking about random things. She didn't seem to recognize me, so I didn't mind since I enjoyed the anonymity.

"You know dear, you look so much like my son. It's your forehead. One look at you, and one can instantly see that you're smart. He has forehead like yours, although he's just 8. He's a so called idiot-savant. You know what that is? I didn't know either, until the psychologists explained to me." and so she went on about his son, who is a genius in everything mathematics, but at the same time is autistic, and his other abilities are almost nonexistent. So his chances of a successful future are slim, since ordinary teachers can't even teach him to read or write. "Of course there are special educational programs, and schools, but dear, since you don't seem like a stupid man, you must know that everything in this world works by money." she laugh bitterly at her on sarcastic remark. I gave a small smile. "The worst is that he doesn't even like me touching him, he doesn't like me hugging him, like he doesn't need my love, or…" by the end her voice trembled, and her hands were shaking. Abruptly she turned on her heels and disappeared in the kitchen.

I was just staring after her.

On my way out of the coffee house I asked the name of the waitress from a colleague of her. Evelyn Gilbert. In Grey House I made a phone call with Alexander Welch, whose job description must be the most complex and complicated one, from all of my 40000 employees. By the end of the day news of a scholarship waited for one Tim Gilbert.

Now, sitting in my home office I hold a drawing in my hand, which arrived today in Grey House. On the drawing there's a woman, holding the hand of little boy. Both smiling. At the side of the drawing there's another man. He's dressed in suit, has red hair, and is standing in the background. When I first saw it I almost laugh. Almost.

There's an inscription at the bottom whit unsure and irregular letters: Thank you!

My thoughts are philosophical. Ridiculous, pathetic, chaotic, but philosophical nonetheless: What is the meaning of life? And is this all I got out of it?

Thank fuck for the ping of the elevator, and that I didn't have to follow through with these thoughts. I rose from my desk, heading towards the door, wondering who that might be.

Out walks of the elevator a brown haired woman, still just a girl really. Skinny, disturbingly so, with beautiful Creole skin, white sleeveless shirt and khaki pants. Yes, I noticed all this. But the thing that drew me in completely was her warm brown eyes, that fitted perfectly on het doll-like, symmetric face.

She was looking at me litte wide eyed, almost scared, but at the same time like I was a …human being. Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a man who can be approached, who can be touched, who can be deciphered, who you can get close to.

I didn't even know how I reacted, I was so lost in my thoughts.

She was a little at a lost as well, but she was the first to break the silence. "I'm looking for Gail Jones." Gail? By the time I could've answer, Taylor appeared out of the security room.

"Ana." Ana?

Oh, what the fuck? Am I in parrot mode?

Gaston? Paul? Emmanuel? What the fuck? I almost laugh out loud. He won't easily live this down. Her teasing was endearing. Something to smile at. You could tell it was out of love. Her voice dripping of sarcasm, but gentle, and smooth. And it was definitely amusing seeing Taylor kind of blush.

And then she was introduced to me. Anastasia Steele. Her arms extended. Towards me. I really should get my shit together.

Her small, cold hands in my large, warm ones. She freed her hands all too soon. Like they were burned, and she turned away from me.

Gail. Of course. Of course she can see Gail. We headed towards the kitchen. I somewhat felt like an intruder going with them, but hell, this was my apartment.

She spoke to Gail in the same manner. There wasn't big sentimental displays of affection, no big words, and thank God no tears. But you could tell that they were close. I don't think I've ever seen Gail this freed, or laid back.

Hearing their exchange I found myself wishing I had someone who would spoke to me in this manner. Who would tease me, laugh with me. I wouldn't even mind if they would laugh at me. Most honestly, I wouldn't mind if that someone would be this warm eyed, beautiful smiled girl.

I was in the middle of these honestly quite disturbing thoughts, when I fell from one shock to the other. Sudan? SHOT? You honestly want to tell me that this girl, this tiny framed, 5,40 ft girl was shot? By a gun?

Who is this girl? What does she do? What happened to her? Where was she until now? Why the fuck do I care?

I found myself walking closer, wanting to hear everything. Sitting on the barstool, I couldn't help but ask her. Mostly because I wanted her look at me again. Like that. Like she knows me. I'm telling myself that I want this because I want to figure out why does she make me feel like that, so I can get back to normal.

She answers. But the look is gone. It's guarded, and gives nothing away. But then she thanked me whit a heartwarming, beautiful and shy smile, the most beautiful I've ever seen. I've seen her smile before, just now. But she didn't smile at me until now.

Again. I don't know how I reacted.

The next thing I know I tell her welcome, and I earned a cold, tight, dare I say fake smile.

I don't know what happened. I don't know what did I say. But reality came crashing down. I have no business sitting here, listening the way they greet each other, witnessing this family reunion. I have no business ogling this girl. What would I want to do with her? She's everything I hate in a woman. Smart mouth, snarky, a tease. And even if…she's clearly not interested. Not exactly a first, but very rare nonetheless... And even if she would've, Taylor would have my balls. Both him and Gail knows about how sick I am. I'm surprised they even let her in a hundred feet closeness.

I just want out of here. Every negativity, self-hatred, pessimism choose this moment to crash down on me. I don't want to be in the company of smiling, happy people, I want to fucking be left alone. I don't have an apartment in the sky for nothing. I feel the darkness in me flooding everyone, making everyone miserable. Exhibit nr.1 my family.

But what is she playing at? Is she playing the uninterested? Because at the foyer she wasn't this cold, this guarded. If only I'd known why on earth I even give a flying fuck…

I was looking for the warmth in her eyes. I only found ice. Well baby, I have news for you. I can do ice as well. I invented ice.

With that I was out.