AN: disclaimer: I don't own any characters; they belong to EL James. Also just to clarify for one of my guest reviewers: Ana is an author on the rise, not well known though she's headed there. Keep in mind that the people approaching her at the gala were friends of Grace. Her memoir is her first published novel, and she is donating half of her proceeds to charity. Furthermore, after her publisher, editor, agent, etc take their share, she isn't super loaded. In addition, she grew up destitute. She doesn't need the extravagant things in life nor is she used to it, a characteristic that's going to be juxtaposed against Christian's. She did buy her gown; Grace just helped her choose it. Without further ado, here's the next chapter and I'll talk to y'all at the end (sorry for the long note at the start).

APOV:

"It smells so good. I'm so excited." I inhale the scent from the warm pizza box. We're in Christian's SUV, while Taylor drives. I can't believe I didn't notice Taylor throughout the night, but I guess part of his job is to be discreet. I kicked off my heels, much to Christian's amusement.

"How do we decide who's hosting pizza and movies?" Christian asks.

"Odds are that we go to mine. Number between one and ten." I state.

"What?" Christian looks absolutely baffled.

"Have you not played that game before? Basically, someone says odds are "fill in the blank." Then they give a number range. If the other person says the number the first person was thinking of, the statement happens. Otherwise, the opposite happens if the number the person guesses is different." I try to explain.

"Okay, I think I get it. Five." He says.

"Nope, I was thinking three." I reply. "Guess you're hosting."

He insists on carrying me because I don't want to put my heels back on and he won't let me walk barefoot. Taylor's expressionless mask cracks into one of amusement as he helps carry the pizza box while I hold my clutch and heels, tucking my face into Christian's shoulder to hide my embarrassed giggling.

He leads me through the foyer to his entertainment room and tells me to put whatever I want on. Taylor sets the pizza down with napkins and plates. I flip through the channels until I land on The X-Files.

Christian comes back into the room, having changed into a white v-neck t-shirt and pajama pants. A few of his chest hairs poke out of the v, and I marvel at how they match the shiny penny color of his hair.

"Here." He hands me a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. "I figured you'd want to get out of your dress. I can leave so you can change here."

I beam. "Thank you!" I quickly change into the clothes he's lent me. I have to roll the waistband of the sweatpants so that they don't fall down, and the legs are still too long. The t-shirt hangs on me, almost to the length of a short dress. When I'm done, I open the door so Christian can come back in.

I sit cross-legged on the couch while Christian slouches into the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him as we eat our pizza. "I used to watch this show a lot when I was younger." Christian comments.

"It was Ray's favorite, so it was always on."

"Do you still see him often?" Christian asks.

"He passed away four months ago in a freak car accident." I tuck my knees in and wrap my arms around them, resting my head on the top of my kneecaps.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ana." Christian murmurs.

"He was the closest thing I had to family." A tear escapes my eye. Christian starts to rub circles on my back, which comforts me. "I feel so alone sometimes." I confess.

"I do too." Christian admits. "My family loves me, yet I can't help but to keep them at a distance."

I sniffle. "Because your phobia of being touched?" I ask. "Grace mentioned it once."

"Yeah. Out of curiosity, how did you and my mother meet?" Christian inquires.

"We had just moved here and I passed out, so Ray took me to the hospital. Grace was the doctor on call. She nearly called Child Protective Services on Ray because she thought he was responsible for my malnourished state. After I set the record straight, she apologized to both of us. I think she's always felt responsible for me, and she started a lunch every other week tradition. We're basically each other's confidantes." I explain. "We're also both involved with Coping Together, so I guess there's that."

"What role do you hold?"

"I'm an advocate and donor, mostly. I used to volunteer on weekends when I was in high school. I decided to donate half of my share of whatever my memoir earns to Coping Together. What's the story behind your fear of being touched? You don't have to answer if you're not comfortable but I feel like we've been talking about me for so long. I want to get to know you." I notice that Christian has a knack for diverting the conversation away from him.

"The crack whore, my birth mother, was addicted to cocaine. She was also a prostitute. Her pimp used to take out his aggression on me when she wasn't lucid enough to feel the pain, or if he couldn't punish her. He used my chest and back as his ashtray, and beat me. That's why I can't handle people touching me." Christian sighs. "When I was little, I would watch Carrick tickle Elliot and Mia. It looked like a lot of fun, but I wouldn't have been able to enjoy it."

"When I was drunk out of my mind, I thought my scars were a caterpillar. I guess it made sense with my blurred vision since they're in a row. I kept slapping my arm, because I wanted to get it off. The next day, I woke up with a bruised arm and a massive headache." Our shoulders brush for a moment as we readjust how we're sitting to face each other, the TV all but ignored.

"I've had my fair share of hangovers and bruises." Christian says.

"I can't picture that. You seem too disciplined to get wasted." I try to imagine Christian drunk out of his mind.

He chuckles. "You didn't see me in my early teens. I spent all of my allowance on liquor, and stole drinks from my parent's liquor cabinet. I also fought a lot. It got me expelled twice."

"What made you stop?" I ask. "You clearly changed."

"I matured and learned how to channel my anger." Christian's answer is oddly vague, but I don't press it. "I thought it worked, but lately I've had my doubts. Instead of finding a genuine solution, I think I just found a band-aid for the wound, instead of actually fixing it, if that makes any sense." He continues.

"I get it. It hurts less that way until you realize you're still in a lot of pain."

"It's the only way I know." Christian's expression is unbearably sad.

"Turn that frown upside down. We'll find you a new way." I tell him, taking his hand in mine, like I did earlier.

"It's so strange. I feel like I know so much about you, but I still want to know more. And I want you to get to know me, but I'm scared that you won't want to get to know me when you start to learn certain things." Christian's grey eyes meet my blue ones, and I can sense the conflict in them.

I take one of my hands off his, and hold my pinky out. "Hold your pinky out." I demand.

He laughs as he reluctantly follows my lead, with his other hand. I link our pinkys and then tell him, "I pinky promise I won't stop trying to get to know you, regardless of what you tell me and what I learn about you. Now you have to kiss your thumb with our hands like this to seal the pact." I demonstrate, and he follows.

"Eager to find out all of my secrets, aren't you?" He teases.

"Maybe." I like playful Christian. If I'm being honest with myself, I think I like Christian, regardless of his mood.

I end up spending what's left of the night in of his guest bedrooms. It's late, and I don't want to trouble Taylor with driving me home, and Christian generously offered. I silently wake up in the middle of a nightmare, but I fall back asleep to the sad though gentle notes of a piano. I assume it's Christian playing, and I wonder if he also suffers from nightmares.

CPOV:

I opened up to Ana more than I have to anyone last night. It's just so easy to talk to her, and it scares and thrills me at the same time. I'm terrified that I won't be worthy of her in any role, and thrilled that she so easily understands me. It doesn't hurt that she's easily the most beautiful woman I've ever met. I loved seeing her in my clothes, even though she deserves better fabric.

When she finally stumbles into the kitchen with an adorable yawn, I offer her a cup of tea. I've been sipping coffee and reading the news.

"Can we stop at my place? I need to change before we go to brunch." Ana reaches for the mug. There's the word again. We. I'd be lying if I said hearing that word come from her lips didn't excite me.

"Of course. We should probably head out soon if we're going to be on time."

"Okay." She sits on the bar stool next to mine. "Were you playing the piano last night?"

"Yes."

"You're incredible at it."

"Grace made sure her children were well-rounded. We all had to learn a second language, take up a sport, and learn how to play an instrument. I picked the piano." I explain.

"What language?" She asks.

"French."

"Je peux parler un peu Francais." She says, and her accent is flawless.

"How did you learn French?" I ask, curious.

She shrugs. "Deja, one of the women that worked with Carla, was French. She didn't want her native tongue to go to waste, so she decided to teach me French, when she was sober enough. She was quite insightful, when she was sober, though that wasn't often and most definitely not by choice. I think Flynn might have her to thank for my doubts for therapy."

"I have my own doubts. I've been through every type of therapy, for years on end, and I don't feel fixed at all." I admit.

"That's the thing I don't understand. How is talking supposed to change the tragedy you went through? Because unless they've been through it, they can't understand. What should be fixed is the structure of society that allowed that tragedy to happen." Ana sighs. "It just frustrates me."

"I never thought of it that way, but it makes a lot of sense."

"Mr. Grey, it's time to go." Taylor approaches the kitchen, holding Ana's dress in a dry cleaning garment bag. "Miss. Steele, your dress was dry cleaned this morning."

"Oh, thank you so much. Please, call me Ana." Ana says.

"No can do, m'am. It wouldn't be professional of me." Taylor replies.

Ana grabs her clutch and heels from the foyer on our way. I insist on carrying her since she still isn't wearing shoes. She rolls her eyes, and my palm itches to spank her for that gesture, but the rational part of me doesn't comment on it. I've noticed that while carrying her puts her in close proximity to my chest, it doesn't bother me. Maybe I should discuss that with Flynn.

Her apartment isn't that far away, and I'm pleased to discover that it's in a safe part of the city. It's not a large apartment, but it's cozy and warm. I'm in the middle of looking through her bookshelf when she comes back out. She's still wearing my t-shirt, to my surprise. She's tied a knot in it to reduce the length and bagginess, and it's actually quite an attractive look. She's changed into a bright red skirt and sandals.

"I can give you your sweatpants now or after I wash them." She gives me the choice.

"You can keep them." I tell her. I don't tell her it's because I like seeing her in my clothes and that I want to see her in my clothes more often.

She grins. "Really?"

I nod. "Really."

I don't know which member of my family is the most surprised when I walk in with Ana by my side. I don't know what they're thinking, but I like the idea of my family thinking that Ana and I are a couple. I like the idea of Ana and I as a couple, which shocks me because I didn't think I was capable of wanting a relationship, but I am. I want to be more for Ana. I know that most of my family assumed that I was celibate, gay, or both. I would rather them assume that than discover the truth. Oh god. Elena. I hope she didn't attend the gala last night. She's been trying to meet more frequently. I had the codes changed to Escala changed, just in case.

"Are you okay?" Ana whispers, bringing me back to reality.

"Just lost in my thoughts." I whisper back, giving her a small smile.

We join the conversation at the table, though I keep sneaking glances at her. When our eyes meet a few times, she blushes and her skin turns a beautiful shade of pink. I can't help but wonder how far her blush extends, and I have to distract myself before I get a boner during brunch.

Grace makes me help clear the table, because I was the last child to arrive. By the way she's practically bouncing, I know she also wants to talk about Ana.

"Oh, Christian. You're smitten, aren't you?" Grace asks as we set the plates in the sink.

I run a hand through my hair. "Is it obvious?" I don't want to scare Ana off, not to mention it would take me more time than I have left in this life to be a man worthy of her.

"Don't worry, dear. It's not one-sided, and I don't think Ana knows that you like her. You two would be perfect for each other." Grace consoles me. "Don't hurt her."

"What?" The disbelief in my voice is unmistakable.

"Listen to me, Christian Trevelyan Grey. That girl has been through unspeakable things, and I love her greatly, just as I love you. If your intentions towards her aren't respectable, you will have me to answer to." Grace's tone leaves no room for argument, and I'm slightly amused.

"I don't deserve her." I blurt out, frustrated.

"Don't you start. No one could deserve her more than you." Grace's tone is softer now. "You don't see yourself clearly. You never have, Christian. But you deserve someone who can make you happy and reach you in a way no one else has been able to before. She could be that person. You have to give love a chance."

"I'm scared." I admit. "We're just friends, anyway."

"Not for long. A mother knows these things." Grace pats my arm gently, before heading back to the patio, where brunch was served.

I take a few deep breaths to collect myself before I head back out. I take my seat next to Ana, and turn my head towards her ear. "My mother just gave me an interesting warning in regards to my intentions for you." I whisper.

Ana blushes. "I thought only over protective dads did that." She mutters.

"Apparently not."

"Now I'm curious. What are your intentions?" She asks, while her blush deepens.

Before I can answer, my siblings have to interrupt. "No secrets at this table! Stop whispering, you two." Mia demands.

Elliot whoops. "They're ready to head out for the horizontal tango. And here I was, thinking you were gay all this time, Christian."

"Fuck off, Lelliot." I retort. Ana looks mortified, so I take her hand and hold it in between mine under the table. I hope it comforts her as much as it comforts me.

"Children, play nice." Grace chastises us.

I don't know how I feel about not having been able to answer Ana's question. I'm not sure if I know the answer yet, but I want it all with her. Yet I doubt she'd be receptive to my playroom. I really should see Flynn soon.

I walk Ana to her car, and I'm appalled by the scrap of metal that she calls a car. "Does it even work?" I ask. She's driving a really old VW Beetle.

"Don't insult Wanda." Ana sighs. "I know I should buy a new car, but I can't bear to part with her. She was a gift from Ray."

"It's not safe to drive her, though." I protest. I can feel my heart rate speeding up from fear of imagining her driving in this death contraption.

"And?" Ana asks, clearly amused by my reaction.

"I don't know. I just don't want you to drive it." I sigh.

"You're pouting. It's kind of cute, in a childish way." She observes, and I know she's teasing, but it doesn't lessen my worry.

"It doesn't even look like it has good gas mileage. The wasting of finite resources is everyone's responsibility." I try a different tactic.

Ana giggles. "Oh, Christian. You can't stop me from driving Wanda. And you can stop worrying. I don't even drive that often. I prefer walking."

She will be the death of me. "Walking? Alone? Ana, that's so dangerous." I'm horrified.

"Christian, I spent fifteen years in Hunts Point and I'm still alive. I've picked up enough street smarts to survive a two block walk to the grocery store." Ana looks exasperated. "What would make you stop worrying? For your sanity and mine, I'm willing to negotiate, though I can't believe we're having this conversation."

I think carefully. "Until you get a new car that's safe, I'd like it if you'd let me let one of my people drive you around. Also, I'd like it if you'd be willing to have security when you walk around."

"No deal, Christian. I'll consent to you giving me a ride as long as it's on the way, and now that I know where you live, don't think you can fool me. You can take me car shopping so I don't end up picking a car that doesn't meet your standards because I refuse to ever have this ridiculous conversation again, but I obviously get final say and I'm paying, before you start with that. Definitely not about the guy following me everywhere. It would drive me insane. It's difficult enough when that shy fan is following me up and down the aisles of the grocery store because she can't decide if it's me or not. Or if she wants to say but doesn't know if I'd be receptive." Ana replies.

Negotiating is new to me. I realize how limited my interactions with women have been. Granted, the type of women I'm used to crave expensive things and never turned away the things I provided for them. "Fine." I concede.

"Great. Now that we have that settled, I'm going to drive Wanda home and you are not going to complain."

"Text me when you get home?" I ask, hopefully.

She laughs. "Okay."

I realize I don't actually have her number. At least she has a Blackberry. If her phone was as antique as her car, I don't know if I would have survived another argument with her.

"Drive safe, okay?" I'm holding one of her hands, not ready to let go.

"I will. Make sure Taylor drives safe. He's carrying precious cargo." Ana replies. I beam inwardly. She thinks I'm precious.

"And Ana? My intentions are to date you." I blurt. Shit, that wasn't remotely smooth.

Her responding smile is beautiful. "Okay." She stands on her tip toes and kisses my cheek. I wished she would aimed a little more to the left for a kiss on the lips.

"Oh, fuck it." I say before I can stop myself. I let go of her hand, bringing both of my hands to gently cup her face, tilting her chin up. Our lips meet, and I'm a goner. Her mouth opens, and our tongues meet.

When we break apart, I don't know if I should apologize. "Wow." Ana says, echoing my thoughts. "That was a great first kiss."

"That was your first kiss?" I ask.

"Depends. Technically no. By choice, yes." Ana's looking down at the ground, and once again, I'm reminded of how strong she was to make it through all the shit that she did.

"I'm honored." And I am. It means a lot to me that I'm the first man she wants to share these experiences with, though it's terrifying. I don't know how to be the more she deserves.

She brings me back to reality with another kiss. "You looked like you were getting lost in your thoughts again."

"A little bit." I laugh.

"Okay, I'm actually going now." Ana says, and her sad tone matches my mood.

"Don't forget to text me." I remind her.

"Don't forget to answer." She teases.

I watch her get into that scary car and drive away. She's been gone thirty seconds and I already want to see her again. Instead, I have to get into my own car. I start to plan a date in my head. I need to make her first date spectacular.

AN: and Chapter 3 comes to close! I started to add things to the pinterest (check my profile for the link and thank you to my followers!) while I was writing this, and then realized that it wouldn't make any sense to you guys, so I deleted them and will be adding them back when the chapter posts (or before, I'm never sure about the timing where publishing is concerned). Thank you to all the lovely darlings reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing! It means so much to me and encourages me to carry on writing this. I'll be busy as uni is starting up again, so please be patient with me. I'm aiming for at least one chapter a week, since it does take me some time to write these chapters. The next chapter will show their first date. Pretty please leave me a review! If it's a question, I'll probably answer you either in a message or in an AN in the next chapter. Also if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, I apologize. I don't have anyone proofreading this, so errors will probably slip my attention. Until next time! xoxo, J.