A/N: So I haven't uploaded this story in about two years — terrible, I know. Long story short, I had a lot going on that caused me to feel unmotivated and uninspired. However, I recently took a look at this a couple of weeks ago and I fell in love with it all over again. I think it would be an injustice to not finish it, so I've decided to continue working on it. I have a lot more free time and my life is a lot less hectic, so you all can expect regular uploads from here on out (if you're still reading, that is). I sincerely apologize for just abandoning this story out of nowhere, but I hope that some of you can still find enjoyment from it. For those of you who are coming back to revisit this, and for anyone who is just discovering it, thank you SO MUCH for your support. I'm so excited to be writing again.

-Xoxo

P.S. I have absolutely NO fucking clue about stocks or anything related to business, so every work-related conversation Christian will have is probably going to be highly inaccurate and make no sense. Use your imagination, please.


As he walked across the office to prepare Robert Adams yet another cup of coffee, Christian couldn't figure out which was worse — spending two years in the sweltering heat fighting for his life, or being a slave to a narcissistic asshole.

Let's just say if he had a choice, he'd be on a flight back to Vietnam right now.

Christian was a lone wolf, and he liked it that way. He never had to answer to anyone, never had to owe anyone anything; but now, he had no sense of autonomy. He lived to serve someone else — and it got on his damn nerves.

"Why the fuck doesn't he use his legs to make his own coffee?" Christian muttered under his breath, pouring the black, hot liquid into a cup and grabbing four sugar packets — dark and sweet, just like how Robert liked it. "He goes to play racquetball every damn day on his lunch break, I know they're strong enough," he grumbled to himself.

Christian hated Robert Adams with a passion. Mainly because Adams never tried to hide how lowly he thought of Christian, believing him to be so beneath him that he treated him like gum on the bottom of his shoe. But Christian also hated him because he saw himself in him. Christian was the king of assholes and he didn't appreciate being dethroned. It sure felt shitty to be on the receiving end of someone's terrible attitude.

He pondered for a second whether he should spit in his coffee. He smirked thinking about it, but decided it would be a bitch move. Christian liked to fight fair. When the time came for him to humiliate Robert Adams, he would do it to his face.

"I'm going to own this place and throw him right out on his ass," Christian told Elliot, drunkenly, the night before. They went out for beers every night after work, too stressed and bored out of their minds to return back to the nagging of their women without at least a few drinks in their system.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Elliot replied sarcastically. "And you're going to make me VP when you're in charge, right?" He laughed, throwing his head back and taking another chug of his beer.

Christian shook his head. "Laugh now, cry later," he said, tipping his drink in Elliot's direction. "I've got a new fire in me, baby. I will do anything to see that bastard fall."

And Christian meant every word he said. He daydreamed about climbing up the ranks, sitting in his own office one day, staring down at pedestrians from the top floor of the building. He dreamed about people bowing down to him. He dreamed about having control — something he didn't know he desperately needed until he had lost it.

Christian lived for his daydreams. He knew that one day they wouldn't be dreams anymore — but he had no idea how to make them a reality. Ever since he had started working at the brokerage firm, he tried to learn as much as possible about the business. He eavesdropped on sales calls when he had free time, trying to figure out the formula to getting people to buy. He looked at Adams' notes when he was filing them away, desperately trying to understand the jargon written on the page. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, but he liked it. He had no idea what it was, but he was drawn to it.

"Maybe you should go to the library," Elliot commented one day, "try to read up on this stuff. I would give you a crash course myself, but I'm a terrible teacher."

"Would that happen to be due to your exceptionally low IQ?" Christian quipped, smirking in his direction.

"Get bent," Elliot laughed, shoving Christian playfully. "Let's not forget who's the one pouring coffee and licking Robert's sack."

Christian shook his head.

Snapping out of his reverie, Christian knocked on Robert Adams' door, waiting to be beckoned in before stepping past the threshold. "Your coffee, sir," he mumbled, trying to be as polite as possible, but he knew he still sounded like a petulant child.

"Put it on my desk," Adams murmured, not looking up from his papers. His glasses hung low on the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to decode the puzzle on the page.

Christian sat the cup down, studying Adams. He grew curious. "What are you looking at?" He asked.

"None of your concern — and it's not like you would understand it anyway," he remarked bitterly.

"All the more reason to share," Christian rebutted. "You look confused. Maybe talking about it will help you figure out what's wrong."

Adams looked up, pursing his lips. He rolled his eyes and sighed. "IBM shares are up 400%, but our cash flow has remained stagnant. It should increase the more people buy in, but it hasn't."

"They've raised the price per share, right?" Christian asked.

"Oh wow, genius, no one would've ever thought of that," Robert replied sarcastically.

Christian put his hands behind his back to stop himself from punching Adams. "Well, you said that more people are buying in, but what about those who already have shares? Are they stacking them?" Christian asked.

Robert frowned and flipped a few pages, taking a moment to examine them. "We've had steady growth among target groups, but current shareholders have been stagnant," he said, moreso to himself.

"Maybe that could be it," Christian shrugged. "If there are 100 shareholders, each with one share, then you have a total of 100. Now if each shareholder has, let's say five, then you have a total of 500. 100 at the rate of 0.05 is 5, but 500 at the rate of 0.05 is 25. Greater surplus," Christian said, digging his hands into his pocket. "I would try to increase current shareholder stake."

Robert looked at Christian for a long time, his glasses so far on the tip of nose they were almost sliding off. Christian felt awkward under his gaze, but stared back with equal intensity. "That's the first intelligent thing you've ever said to me," Robert replied in a funny voice, almost as if he was confused.

"Thank you?" Christian wondered how he could feel insulted and proud at the same time.

Robert waved his hand. "This conversation was fun, but you're dismissed now." He turned back to his papers. Christian noted the clock on the wall and realized that it was five already.

"If you don't need anything else, sir, I think I will be taking my leave. It's five."

Adams checked his wristwatch. "Oh. Yeah," he said, just realizing the time. He waved his hand again to shoo Christian out of his office. "Wait -" he called out just as Christian had one foot out of the door. "Here," he said, grabbing an envelope out of his desk. "Your check."

Christian had been working at the firm for almost three weeks now — this would be his first check. His heart soared and his palms itched in anticipation. Finally, he thought. Biweekly pay was really a bitch. Too eager to wait and not in the least bit phased by Adams' presence, Christian tore open the envelope right then and there in his office. His eyebrows shot up as he looked at the number printed on the bill.

"$500?" he asked, his voice raised in confusion and disbelief. "Are you sure this is right?"

Robert squinted at him, annoyed. "Were you expecting more?"

"No!" Christian scoffed, his eyes still staring at the check. "Way less. How much am I getting paid?"

"$6.25 an hour," Robert replied impatiently. "You're working at the top brokerage firm in the state, what did you expect? And don't get too excited, you're still the lowest paid employee. Jillian — the office receptionist — makes $10."

Christian's ego took a hit as he thought about a woman making more than him, but he quickly brushed it off. He couldn't wait to get home and show Ana.

Ana, he thought, his stomach sinking. They weren't the best of friends at the moment — not that they ever were. Since their little spat, things were quite awkward between them. They saw each other in the morning, but she was always asleep by the time he got home from the bar. Sometimes Christian would stop by on his break to spend time with Teddy, but she was always at work. He hadn't said more than five sentences to Ana in two weeks. He didn't know whether she'd care about his check or not — or even if she wanted to speak to him.

"Well, thanks, boss," he said as he exited. Robert grunted in reply.

He caught up with Elliot on his way out. "How much do you make in a week?" He asked him.

"Hello to you, too," Elliot answered wryly. "It depends on how much I sell."

"If you had to make an estimate, you'd say…?"

"Uh, I don't know," he said, thinking, "maybe $800?"

"$800?!" Christian sputtered in complete disbelief. He ran his hands through his hair. "I've got to start fucking selling."

"That you do."


Ana was having a terrible day. She woke up late, causing her to have to rush to get Teddy dressed and fed before Mariam made her way over. Christian always woke up before her and stayed just long enough to grab some food before heading off.

"Christian?" She called out, running out of her room, her uniform halfway on and her hair a tangled mess. She searched the living room for him, but saw that the sheets and comforter were folded neatly on the couch. Christian was nowhere in sight.

Perfect, she thought bitterly. The first time I actually need him and he's not here.

She grabbed a small bowl from the cabinet and poured some cereal and milk into it. Teddy wouldn't have the luxury of hot food today. She rushed back to his room, lifting him up gently. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Rise and shine, baby boy," she cooed. He placed his head on her chest and wrapped his arms around her neck, holding on to her tightly. She knew that Mariam could probably handle getting Teddy ready, but she valued the time she got to spend with her little one in the morning. She felt as though she never got to see him, always working all day at the restaurant.

Someone's got to pay the bills.

She hadn't heard much from Christian about his job, but considering he came home smelling like liquor every night, she figured he either hated it or didn't actually have one at all. She wasn't quite sure what to think of Christian anymore. She couldn't figure him out. After their argument, they barely spoke to one another, but she didn't pick up any signs of anger or resentment from him. Mariam also commented that sometimes he would stop by during the day to see Teddy, which she was thankful for. He was a confusing mixture of lazy and proactive — what was she to possibly make of that?

She heard a knock on her door and cursed under her breath. She'd have to leave soon and neither her, nor Teddy, were ready. She supposed that Mariam would have to take the lead this morning, after all. She sat Teddy in his high chair, kissing him on the cheek, before grabbing her purse and rushing to the door.

"Hi love," Mariam greeted, a warm smile on her face.

"Hey! Super late, Teddy's not dressed or fed, but there's cereal on the counter. See you tonight," she said hastily, pushing past Mariam to dash to her car. She could already sense that today would be full of nothing but problems.

She was right.

She dropped a total of five plates throughout her shift, all of which were coming out of her paycheck. Even worse, she had nothing but cheap clients, her tables giving her the lowest tips she had received since working at the diner. She cleared one of her tables, carrying the dishes back to the kitchen and placed them on the counter. She sighed. She was barely getting any sleep, Teddy had been fussy all week, and to top things off she did nothing but fixate on Christian every second of every day. The more she wanted to talk to him, the more her fear and anger stopped her from doing so. She wondered why he didn't make much effort to communicate with her, either. They lived together, but they still felt like strangers.

She had no idea how to make things less stilted between them. After all, they really didn't know each other. They had a kid together and that's pretty much where their relationship began and ended. As she thought about it, she didn't know his middle name, his favorite color, or his favorite food. She didn't know anything about his family life — hell, she didn't even know what he did at his job.

She placed her head in her hands and groaned. She was in a seriously fucked up situation.

Why, oh why, did I choose to have a child with someone I don't even know?

She bitterly wondered why Roe v Wade was passed after Teddy was born, but then felt like complete shit and wanted to kick herself for even having the thought. Everything was so complicated lately. At least when it was just her and Teddy, all she had to think about was keeping her son fed and maintaining a roof over their head. Now, someone else was in the equation and she had to figure out a way to keep them all happy. Right now, it seemed like nobody was — save for Teddy, who found enjoyment even in hearing the apartment buzzer.

She felt like throwing up. Her entire life made her feel sick to her stomach. More than anything, she just wanted a break. An escape from reality. Maybe then, she wouldn't have to worry about dragging herself out of bed every day to attend her shitty job, or how she desperately wanted a real relationship with a certain grey-eyed man.

She looked at the clock on the wall. Three more hours of bullshit.

Teddy didn't go down without a fight. It took Ana an hour and a half to get him to settle down, thanks to Mariam and her devilish antics. Teddy was on a sugar high to end all sugar highs, and he couldn't possibly fathom why he had to lay down in his crib when he could wobble around the house, playing and chucking toys to his heart's content.

Ana sat on the couch, her apartment filled with the scent of Ajax. After wrangling her feral child into his room, she decided to get a little bit of cleaning done. It was finally Friday and she delighted in the fact that she'd be able to sleep in the next morning. She lived for weekends — it was the only real time she got to spend with Teddy. She frowned as she thought about her weekends now — not quite surprisingly, Christian had them off, too. Last weekend, he made sure to spend as much time out of the house as possible, and when he was home, he only played games with Teddy.

She liked him taking an interest in their son, but couldn't hide the small hint of jealousy that flared up in the pit of her stomach as she watched him ignore her for their chubby one-year-old.

God, Ana, don't be so pathetic. Are you seriously jealous of your own child?

She was. She wished that sometimes Christian would play with her.

"Ugh!" She cringed, moaning aloud. She couldn't believe she just had that thought.

It was undeniable that Christian was good-looking. It was also undeniable that he was the only person she had ever had sex with. Literally. Ana hadn't rolled around in the sheets in over two years. How could she? She didn't have time to date — and it's not like many eligible suitors wanted to be with an unwed mother of a bastard child.

She didn't only desire Christian sexually, but rather just wanted his attention in general. Sometimes, she couldn't believe he actually slept with her. She didn't think she was ugly, but she didn't think she was exactly good-looking, either. Christian always made her feel invisible. She wondered if he felt bitter about having to spend the next 17 years with a woman he didn't even like or find attractive. If he would just say or do something, then maybe she wouldn't feel so damn bad about herself or her situation.

Maybe you should say something, her subconscious spat back at her. A closed mouth doesn't get fed.

She was far too awkward and self-conscious to do so. If she was being honest, Christian scared the shit out of her. He was unpredictable. And she was afraid that any little thing would set him off. She hated him sometimes, but she didn't want him to leave — not for her, but for Teddy. She owed that to her son.

So she thought it best to keep her distance.

A small breeze from the open window drafted into the apartment, gently brushing across her face. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and laying down onto the couch. Her house smelled good and she wouldn't have to wake up early tomorrow — she decided to take pleasure in the very few good things she had to think about that day. She listened to the faint sounds of screaming children outside her apartment building, the little rascals enjoying their summer break. She thought about what life would be like when Teddy was that age. She couldn't even fathom her little man getting older.

Deeply immersed in her thoughts, she began to doze off to sleep, her eyes getting heavy and her body going limp.

"Boo," she heard. Christian was crouched down beside her, his lips deathly close to her lips as he whispered the one-syllable word.

Ana shrieked and jumped up, glaring at him. Christian fell back onto his heels, laughing at her expression. Christian laughed a deep belly laugh, all of his teeth exposed and his eyes lit up with mirth. Ana noted how beautiful he looked.

"You're an asshole," she muttered, readjusting her shirt, which had ridden up as she jumped. Christian's eyes darted to her exposed thighs, peering at them for only a second — too quick for Ana to take notice, but long enough for him to wonder what her skin looked like just a bit further up.

"We all have one," Christian quipped, then frowned. "That doesn't make much sense," he remarked quietly, mainly to himself.

"How long have you been here? And how did you get in so quietly?" She asked, wringing her hands.

"Spend two years in stealth mode and you learn how to not make a sound," he answered. He sat down next to her. "Look," he commanded, passing her his check. Ana raised an eyebrow, slowly pulling the bill out of the white envelope. She looked at it for a moment, then raised her eyebrows again.

"Wow," she remarked, still staring at the check. Ana made about $150 a week — almost half of what Christian was making now. It was just enough to pay the rent and utilities, but with Christian's added income, they'd have so much money left over. "What exactly is it that you do?"

"Um," Christian said awkwardly, "I'm kind of like an assistant…"

"Well whatever you're doing, keep it up," Ana said matter-of-factly, handing the check back to Christian.

Maybe having him around wasn't so bad, after all.

"What do you think we should do to celebrate?" He questioned cheerfully, already a little bit drunk.

She bit her lip. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies, his words playing over and over again in her head. He wants to celebrate with me? What the hell's gotten into him?

"I would say drink, but I think you've already got that covered," she commented. Christian's lip twitched.

"I might have had a celebratory drink… Or three."

Ana rubbed her arms. "Well, we don't have a babysitter, so there's not much I can suggest…"

Christian sat back, staring at the wall. He stared at the pictures he had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. Suddenly, he smirked, a devilish grin spreading across his face. He jumped up, walking over to the closet to pull out his bag. He dug deep into one of the pockets, grabbing a small baggy out of it.

He held up a ziplock bag with a familiar green substance in it. "You like to party?" He joked.

Ana rolled her eyes. "Ugh, Christian!" She protested. "I told you to throw that shit out."

"I did — bought more," he shrugged. "C'mon, don't be such a hard ass."

"Because I don't do illegal drugs I'm a 'hard ass'?" She sneered.

"Everybody's doing it," he quipped in a sing-song voice. "Suit yourself," he murmured, sitting back down on the couch. He opened the plastic bag and began to sprinkle some into a small sheet of paper.

"You're not smoking that in here," Ana scoffed.

"Why?"

"Teddy is in the next room!" Ana hissed, baffled that Christian could be so obtuse.

"That's perfect, he won't get a contact high."

Ana put her hand over her face, taking a deep breath. "That is not perfect, Christian, that is dangerous and irresponsible. You can't be around a child while under the influence."

"Well, joke's on you — I already have." He flashed a crooked smile. Ana shook her head.

Christian finished rolling his joint and quickly lit a match, inhaling a thick plume of smoke.

"At least go by the window," Ana snapped, crossing her arms petulantly.

Christian stretched his arm towards her, holding the joint out expectantly.

"Ha — no," Ana responded. "I don't succumb to peer pressure."

"I'm older than you, so this is just regular pressure."

Ana rolled her eyes. "C'mon, just one puff," he coaxed.

Ana sighed. She had been really stressed lately…

"One," she relented, "and we never speak of this again."

Christian ran his thumb and pointer finger across his lips, signifying his lips were sealed. Ana gingerly took the joint from him, her stomach doing somersaults. She hesitantly placed it to her lips and took a small drag, the smoke filling up her lungs. She immediately went into a coughing fit, the smoke evaporating from her lips and drifting out the window.

Christian chuckled, watching her cough into her arm. "You have to inhale," he criticized.

"I did," she snapped in between her coughs. "Why do you think I'm dying over here?"

He took the joint from her. "Like this," he said, taking a puff as he inhaled, holding the smoke in his mouth before slowly breathing out. "Hold it in." He passed it back.

"Oh no, I'm done."

"What?" He argued, "that last one doesn't even count."

Ana huffed and took the joint from him, placing it in her lips and taking another drag, holding it briefly as Christian instructed her to. She blew the smoke out. "Woah," she whispered, feeling lightheaded for a second.

Chrisitan smirked. "See?"

She passed it back to him, sinking lower into the couch. She could feel the tips of her toes beginning to tingle. He took a few more drags and passed it back to her. "Are you really going to make a man celebrate alone?"

She took the joint from him. "You're a terrible influence."

"Nope, I just know how to have fun, babe."

Ana's cheeks tinged a slight shade of red. She was thankful that Christian had turned away. She liked the sound of him calling her babe. She took two puffs, barely coughing this time. Her body felt weightless and her head began to tingle. She didn't know what she was feeling, but it felt nice. Her vision began to get blurry.

"What is happening?" She asked, laying down. She put her arm over her eyes.

"That would be the THC stimulating your neurons," Christian replied matter-of-factly, taking another inhale. She moved her arm to look at him, one eyebrow raised.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Christian smiled slightly, staring off into space. He passed the joint back to her. She shook her head. "You're not still breastfeeding are you?"

"Do I look stupid?"

"Do you want me to answer honestly?"

Ana kicked him. He laughed and grabbed her foot, putting her leg in his lap. Ana stopped breathing. She wasn't sure what to do, so she laid deathly still, scared that one move would snap Christian out of his uncharacteristically good mood.

She thought if now would be a good time to talk. We are high, she thought. If I say something stupid I could just blame it on the pot.

"What are you thinking?" She asked quietly, looking at him through her lashes. He shrugged.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" She asked, puzzled.

"I don't think I'm thinking anything."

"How could you not be? We're always thinking something," she pushed. He turned to look at her.

"Kind of ruining my high, Ana," he murmured. She stayed quiet, watching her stomach rise and fall.

There was a short silence between them, the room starting to become clouded.

"I'm thinking about stocks," he said quietly, out of nowhere. Ana's eyes snapped in his direction.

"Stocks? That's... interesting."

"Yeah, they are," Christian replied, his eyes lighting up. "I don't really understand most of what goes on in the office, but I'm picking up some things. Business is really interesting, it's kind of like a game. There's a formula to it — I just need to figure it out..." he whispered, his voice trailing off. He stared into space, his gaze growing more intense. Ana had never seen him take such an interest in something. It was amusing to watch.

He turned to look at her. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm wondering what my neighbors will think," she thought aloud, gesturing to the thickening smoke cloud in the room.

"They won't care — I bought this from the guy down the hall."

Ana's mouth fell open, then she giggled. Who knew she was living amongst a few potheads? Christian turned to look at her, his gaze intense. Ana could feel her cheeks flushing. She felt exposed under the intensity of his stare. She tried to gauge what he was thinking — why he was suddenly looking at her so weirdly. His eyes looked fiery, the grey hues of his eyes alight with some unknown emotion. He turned back to look out the window, his breath beginning to stutter. Ana felt tingles go up her spine — but she couldn't figure out if it was the cannabis or the way that Christian had looked at her.

He began to absentmindedly run his hand across her leg, goosebumps developing on her skin. Ana held her breath, her hands clasped tightly across her stomach.

What the fuck is happening? Does he even know what he's doing?

Every inch of her skin burned against his touch, her heart rate beginning to pick up. His hand moved ever so slowly across her lower leg, caressing her skin delicately. He continued with his movements, stopping at her knee, until he gently moved his palm up to the skin of her inner thigh. Ana gasped and clenched her legs.

Christian jerked his hand away, realizing what he was doing. Shit, he thought. He gently moved her leg out of his lap and placed it on the couch, standing up.

"I'm gonna go take a walk," he announced.

Ana sat up, pushing her hair behind her ears. She adjusted her shirt once again. "Did I do something?" She asked, suddenly self-conscious. He shook his head. "Then don't go," she pleaded, kicking herself after the words were out. Why did I just say that? Now I'm going to look like a needy whore.

He ran his hands over his head, the strands of his hair getting longer and longer each day. He huffed, still standing. A part of him really, really wanted to flee, finding it unbearable to be around Ana at that moment, with her giggling, her exposed thighs, her soft skin…

He dug his hands into his pockets and sat back down, on the opposite end of the couch.

He had finished the joint and now it was slightly awkward between the two, both of them unsure of what to do or say. Christian thought it best to remain still and silent, afraid that he would do something that Ana would clearly not be up for. He counted back from 100 to keep himself from thinking about the melodic sound of her laughter, or what it would feel like with her writhing underneath him —

"I'm gonna go for that walk," he sputtered, standing up quickly and dashing towards the door. He slammed it behind him — the door shutting far more intensely than he intended it to under the force of his grip.

Ana sat alone in her cloudy living room, staring at the closed door. She couldn't figure out why whenever they took one step forward, they always took three back.


Christian needed some air.

He also needed to fuck something.

He lit a cigarette as he walked down the street, on the way to a bar not far from the apartment. He couldn't believe that he had come onto Ana like that — he was ashamed. He hadn't spoken more than a few sentences to her in weeks and as soon as he did, he acts like a scumbag around her. He shook his head.

He was confused by his actions, but also confused about why he cared. Scumbag was his middle name — hell, he impregnated Ana after one night. It's not like Christian was exactly the king of chastity. Throughout his life, he's had his fair share of women. He lost his virginity at the tender age of 15 and since then, he's been adding notches to his bedpost like there's no tomorrow.

He wondered if his time away had made him soft. Two years without pussy and you forget why you were so crazy about it in the first place. He had seen some of his fellow soldiers have their fair share of village women, but he always felt like it was wrong to take advantage of them. He was there to do a job — one that didn't include shacking up with civilians, especially ones who didn't have the power to say no. He was already killing a significant amount of men at an alarming rate. Did he really need to add rape to his list of sins?

He shook his head, trying to get the images out of his head.

He took another drag of his cigarette, counting the number of cracks in the sidewalk to distract himself from memories of gun powder and screaming. He had counted 52 by the time he reached the bar, welcoming the stench of liquor as he pushed through the doors. As he sniffed the air, he felt at home.

He briefly wondered if that was a problem.

He took a seat at the bar and ordered a glass of whiskey. It was prime time for cruising. He quickly scanned the room and saw a few good-looking women. And they all had noticed him. Christian wasn't oblivious to his good looks — it was how he had gotten to be with so many women in the first place. They were all pretty, but they didn't seem interesting in the slightest. Usually, he feigned interest for at least an hour, chatting girls up until he made his move. Tonight, however, all the girls looked as dull as dishwater. He didn't even think he could pretend to have a real conversation with any of them.

His eyes settled on a petite, pretty blonde. Blondes weren't really his type, but this particular girl had an alluring heart-shaped face, her lips plump and succulent. She smiled at him and he tipped his glass in response.

This one seems good enough.

"Get me a drink for the lady," Christian told the bartender. He left a few bills on the bar counter and took the drink over to the girl. "How are you tonight?" He asked, handing her the drink. She smiled shyly and took it from him.

"I'm alright," she answered. "Better now."

Christian smirked. "Do you come here often?"

She shook her head. "I thought maybe I should get out more, so I found this little place."

He nodded. "Looking to have some fun?" He asked, suggestively.

She cocked her head to the side, one eye squinted. Slowly, a small grin spread across her face. "Always."

It's almost too easy, Christian thought to himself as his hands roamed the sides of the mysterious Blonde's body. He moved his hands down, placing them under her skirt. I should really start charging women.

He rubbed the sides of her thighs, moving his hands towards her rear. He sighed as he cupped her bottom, her cheeks firm, yet soft. His cock hardened at the feel. Their lips collided, her breath tasting like sugar and honey. She moaned softly as he turned away to bite her neck, sucking gently on her flesh. She moved her hands down the sides of his arms and towards the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head. She ran her hands down his chest. Christian shuddered and moved away, grabbing her hands. He placed them behind her back.

"I like to do the touching," he whispered.

She grinned. "Touch away."

He began to unbutton her shirt, her supple breasts exposed. He didn't realize how good she actually looked back at the bar. His hands ventured back underneath her skirt, his fingertips at the top of her panties. He slowly slid them down, his fingers exploring her warm and wet center.

Jesus, I survived two years without this?

The Blonde gasped, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Christian sat up slightly, unzipping his pants. He took a moment to look down at her, her eyes filled with hunger and desire. As he looked at her — beautiful, half-naked, and ready — his erection completely dissipated. He sat back on his heels. The Blonde rubbed her legs against him, urging him forward. "What's wrong?" She asked.

Christian ran a hand over his face and sighed. He closed his eyes.

"I can't do this," he said.

The Blonde sat up, confused. She grabbed his hands, placing them on top of her perky breasts. She kissed his neck, her tongue darting across his flesh. Her hands slid down to his pants, placing them inside his jeans and gripping his cock. Christian's breath hitched. He grabbed her arms and pushed her away, distancing himself from her.

"You're... Blonde," he answered pathetically. She raised an eyebrow.

And you don't have glasses. And you're not 5'3. And you don't have baby weight.

And you're not Ana.

Christian sighed and put his head in his hands. Fuck, he thought to himself.

He had a crush on the mother of his child.


A/N: Thanks for reading!

What would you like to see in future chapters?