Chapter 9: Dammit Kate!
June 10, 2011
Ana
Is it possible to experience eye-strain after only working in publishing for five days? I'm beginning to believe that it is possible and that I am experiencing it. The amount of reading Jack has me doing is quite a bit more than I had anticipated as an assistant, but this is the kind of experience I'll need to make it to the next level. I'll just probably need reading glasses by the time I actually make it there.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I set the manuscript I've been working through all day on my desk and rub my eyes with the heel of my hand. Eyes closed, I immediately begin thinking dirty thoughts about Christian Grey. That kiss in the elevator on Sunday awakened some kind of libido-beast inside me and I can't get his hands and his mouth and his tongue and his rigid - …basically, I just can't get him out of my freakin' head. The man should have a Parental Advisory sticker slapped right across his handsome face! But then again, that would obstruct the view.
His diligently sent 8am morning messages haven't helped matters at all. Even though they've just been a quick 'have a good day' or an innocent 'good morning', they've managed to wedge themselves into my mind, giving my imagination a chance to run wild with the idea that he could actually want me. But that's crazy, right? Right? That's what the little devil on my shoulder keeps saying, but there's also the niggling thought that his tenderness in the parking garage - the softness of his fingertips on my skin and his forehead just resting against mine - hints at something more. And it's not like he's sexting me and attempting to lead me into some kind of torrid love affair. These messages have been more chaste than the ones I've receiving from Kate.
Then this morning I got nothing. My phone didn't make a peep until Mia sent me a message at 10:30, the time she woke up, to finalize our plans for this evening and tomorrow. If I'd known how much prep work goes into these type of events, I would have probably declined the invitation. We're coordinating with Kate at nine o'clock tonight so that they confer on my dress options and figure out accessories while I stand idly by like a life-size Barbie. Tomorrow Mia and I are having some sort of a spa day: massages, manicures, and pedicures in the morning at some exclusive salon and hair and makeup in the afternoon at her parents' house in Bellevue. It's a lot to take in, but I just have to remind myself that I'll get to see Christian at the end of it and all of my qualms just slip away.
After arguing with myself for the rest of the morning over whether or not I should send him a message, I finally typed out - then retyped and edited it down after deciding berating him for not contacting me made me sound insane - a message and sent it within the first two minutes of my lunch break. I spent approximately one minute staring at my phone and worrying over the idea that he didn't want to hear from me and I would never get a reply before he sent me one back. My day has improved significantly since then.
I open my eyes the second my thoughts of Christian progress from a PG-13 rating to an NC-17. It is seriously surprising that someone as inexperienced and uninterested in the opposite sex as I have been all these years is having these kind of thoughts. Just thinking about those kisses on Sunday leaves me feeling like a pile of mushy hormones. It also makes me wonder just what else his mouth can do on my...on the rest of my body.
I lift my arms in a mean stretch, then lean forward and take the manuscript back in hand. It's been quite good reading so far, and more than a welcome distraction to the pressing need of wanting to check my phone every other second. I read a few pages, but am interrupted by Jack's office door opening behind me with a loud, irritating squeak. At least I get some warning though.
Before I can turn around and play interference with Jack's weird need to get super creepy close, he's already standing immediately behind my swivel chair. If I were to turn, my arm would nudge his nether regions. That's how close he is, so I stay as still as possible. I will not swivel a centimeter. All week I've been trying to figure out if he's a creep or just has limited social skills and absolutely no understanding of personal space. I'm trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but my instincts and Mia have been leading me to the idea that he's a super creep.
"Ana," he starts all breathy and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, "I'm heading down to Elizabeth's office, then we're all going to Fifty's across the street. You're still coming, right?"
"Umm, yeah. I told Claire I'd go with her, so I'm waiting until she gets down to head over." Since she doesn't get done until a half hour after me, it ensures that I don't have to wait around the bar with Jack and a bunch of people I don't know.
He leans a little closer, his torso just about hovering over the top of my head, and takes a piece of my hair between two fingers. I freeze, swallowing with the realization of how completely out of sight from everyone else we are in my little cubicle.
"I'm glad you're coming tonight, Ana." Why does he keep saying my name like that? It's like a whisper on his lips and it completely rubs me the wrong way. I remember reading some article in one of my elective Psych classes that name repetition in conversation is used by salesmen as a means of being charming. He's definitely over-doing it though. "What do you drink? I'll make sure it's waiting for you when you get there. Whatever you want."
"Ummm..." I choke out, leaning forward in my chair to escape his inappropriately close body heat. I hold out the sound in hopes that I can stall the inevitability of answering his question; I don't want him to buy me a drink at all. Before I have a chance to respond, a throat clears a few feet from my desk. I turn my head in that direction and Jack takes a step backward - thank god!
"Jerry!" Jack says in a jovial I'm-doing-nothing-wrong tone that indicates that he was, in fact, doing something wrong.
The man clears his throat and assesses the awkward situation between Jack and I for a long moment before responding. "Mr. Roach," he corrects, giving Jack a hard stare that causes my boss to shift his weight slightly before turning his attention to me. "I didn't realize Jack had hired a new assistant already."
Roach closes the space between himself and the two of us with two long, easy strides. While Jack stumbles through introductions and Jerry Roach shakes my hand, I take the time to look over the man who is apparently my boss's boss. Mr. Roach is probably around my dad's age, late forties or early fifties, and his hair is coiffed in a professional-looking slicked back style. His clothes are more professional than the bohemian-ish trend of his many employees, but still casual in comparison to the suits I've seen wandering around the small bistros and coffee shops in the immediate area surrounding SIP. His smile is extremely comforting, the complete opposite of the leering grin Jack seems to sport every time he sees a woman. He must sense how relieved I am for his sudden appearance because he gives my shoulder a reassuring pat at the same time he smiles a fatherly smile.
After we've been properly introduced, Mr. Roach heads into Jack's office for a 'quick, but important, discussion'. Jack scampers behind him like a lost little puppy, forcing me to bite back the giggle that threatens to escape my throat. My boss is so squirrely around his boss. I think I like this Mr. Roach; he definitely keeps Jack in line.
Once they've disappeared into Jack's office, I chance a quick glance at my phone and discover that Christian has texted me again. As I read his message, I smile and start a quick exchange before my bosses come back out.
C: I'm paying my dues to Mia this evening. Dinner for your number at Sophie's Choice.
A: That's a terrible name for a restaurant...or anything really.
C: That's what I said too.
A: So you have seen some movies? Maybe you aren't completely hopeless after all.
C: I've seen a few. That one for sure. Someone told me earlier this week that I've missed some big ones, though.
A: Who would have said such a thing? I have to get back to work...
The second I put my phone back in my desk drawer, the door to Jack's office creaks open and Mr. Roach comes out. He strides past my desk and stops a few feet away. He turns around and approaches me with concern etched across his face. The seriousness of his expression immediately puts me on edge, and I begin thinking of everything that could possibly cause him to look at me like that: I'm being let go, already. He hates my outfit. Jack told him he hates my comments on the reading I've been doing. The security cameras caught me borrowing another employees teabag. Crap.
"Ana, it was very nice to meet you," he says unsmiling with a somber tone. I frown as he continues, worried about what has him so unsettled. Is it normal for one's boss's boss to be this concerned? "If there is anything you find concerning or alarming, I would like for you to contact me. My office is on the tenth floor and my number is listed on the company contact sheet if you need it. And I mean anything," he stresses, sneaking a peek back at Jack's door. His expression shifts when he notices my confused discomfort, and he smiles as if to reassure me…or himself, maybe. "We'll be stepping up the presence of our security on each floor, so don't be alarmed if you see them around a bit more frequently." He claps his hands together and takes a few steps backward. "Have a good weekend."
"Umm...you too, Mr. Roach," I say weakly, but he's already halfway to the elevator and out of hearing range by the time I get the words out.
That was strange. Increased security and a directive to contact him directly if something should bother me? I guess I should feel lucky to be working for a company with such an incredibly considerate leader, but something about the whole exchange has me on edge. Could this be in response to his walking in on Jack's inappropriate closeness? While I suppose that could be the case, there must be more to it. I'll have to ask Claire when we meet up later.
I grab the manuscript off of my desk and once again dive into my reading. It's already 4:30, so Jack and most of the other employees on my floor will be leaving within the next half hour or so. Since I'm waiting for Claire to get done in reception, I'll be waiting until around 5:30 to head out.
After a few minutes of distracted reading, Jack comes out of his office and barks that he'll see me shortly at the bar. I'm glad I never had the chance to tell him what I drink. I definitely don't want to give him the wrong idea, and it seems I have a tendency to do that. I mean, I thought I was pretty clear with Jose that we had no chance of an 'us', but he still tried anyway.
With him gone, I google 'Seattle restaurant Sophie's Choice' and check out the establishment's menu. Mia had tried to get me to go with her earlier in the week, but I'm a little short on cash until I get my first paycheck, so I declined her offer. Now that I see what they're serving up, I'm quite happy that I did. Foam. Foam on everything. Foam as entrees. Foam as dessert. I watch the Food Network regularly and I follow a number of cooking competition television shows, and that stuff seems extremely unappealing. Gordon Ramsay, otherwise known as my culinary guru, never seems too impressed with the stuff. With a grimace, I pick up the manuscript and finish off the chapter I've been trying to get through since Jack interrupted me earlier.
At 5:22, I gingerly slide my new makeshift bookmark off the desk and hold it in my palm. I'm glad everyone's gone. If they could see me smiling down at the rectangular piece of thick, gray cardstock, they'd probably think I'm crazy. Well, they'd think I was nuts until they read the short handwritten note and realized whom is was from: "Thinking of you. - Christian." I doubt there's a woman immune to that man - other than Kate that is. And Mia, but she doesn't count for obvious reasons.
When Mia came over on Tuesday night for a little Chinese takeout and a movie, she badgered me nonstop about the beautiful vase of white roses that I had set up on the kitchen counter. At the time I was definitely unwilling to tell her that her otherwise standoffish big brother sent them to me on my first day of work. I think she figured it out anyway, because after Tuesday, she's done nothing but try to squeeze out details about Christian and my lunch on Sunday. Kate says I should just tell her, but I'm a little...embarrassed. I mean, who kisses their friend's brother hours after having been introduced. The Greys are the last people I want thinking that I'm some kind of skank, even if they don't seem like the kind of people to judge someone.
I sigh, tucking the card in the pages and shutting the manuscript in my desk drawer with the realization that Mia will probably find out sooner rather than later. Will Christian fess up to everything - the kisses, the texts, the flowers, the chemistry - while they're at dinner tonight? I think not, but then again, I don't really know much about him at all.
When I rise from my chair, I check over my desk one last time to make sure I have everything I need for the weekend. My purse? Check. My phone? In my hand. Computer turned off? Done. I turn and take off for the elevators to meet Claire in the building's lobby. I get there a couple minutes before 5:30, her time to call it a night, and stand to the side while she organizes her desk and finishes up a few things at her station.
I take the time to check my phone again. Despite his diligence in responding to my messages all day and initiating contact all week, I'm still surprised and elated to find a message from Christian sitting in my inbox: I had lunch with a beautiful woman on Sunday and she may have hinted that I have some catching up to do. Don't work too hard - you'll need your energy to dance with me tomorrow evening.
I feel giddy and excited and...everything good when I read his words. He called me beautiful and he wants me to dance with him tomorrow. If Kate were with me and not a new coworker who I'm still trying to impress, I would probably be jumping up and down and screaming or something. Instead, I keep my little celebration in my head. Gahhhh!
How the hell do I respond to that? I play it safe, just telling him to have a good time with his sister and to beware of the menu at Sophie's Choice. We exchange a few more messages before Claire scares the daylights out of me when I find her suddenly standing right next to me and peeking over my shoulder at my phone.
"What has you giggling over here?" she asks, smiling down at me from atop her almost six-foot frame. Apparently I couldn't contain my excitement.
"Nothing," I say, still on my Christian-called-me-beautiful high as we make our way to SIP's front door.
"Mmmhmmm," she sounds, making it seem sarcastic somehow. "Does little Ana have a man in her life?"
I weigh the question for a moment, deciding how to answer. Claire knows none of my friends, nothing about my personal life, and I doubt she knows the Greys, so I guess it's safe to assume that I can confide something to her. Maybe get a little advice and run some theories off of her when needed. I guess I never realized how frequently I use Kate as a sounding board until she decided to take off for a couple weeks with her family.
"I don't know. I wouldn't say there's a man in my life." I mull over how best to phrase what I'm thinking. "We just met, but he's...he's," I pause, wracking my brain to come up with some adjective that describes what Christian Grey is in relation to little ole me, "he's so out of my league."
Claire laughs and gently slaps my shoulder, slowing down her stride to hit the button for the crosswalk. "I can't imagine a man out of your league. Look at you! I'm not into chicks, but your legs are killer in that skirt and those shoes." She pauses and looks thoughtful for a moment, while my cheeks heat under the weight of her compliment. "Can I say that? Like, isn't that forbidden by some kind of sexual harassment policy or something? Some vague clause in our contracts."
"The sexual harassment policies are anything but vague in the contract," I comment as we begin walking across the busy street.
"Meh! I didn't read it. I was too excited when I got the job. I would have signed away my life or given my soul over to the devil for a chance to get paid a decent wage." She shakes her head. "And I'm only lightly sexually harassing you. You're hot and you should know it."
Speaking of sexual harassment… "Hey, I met Mr. Roach today and he said some weird stuff to me."
"Mr. Roach? Everyone calls him Jerry, Ana." I frown, instantly bewildered by the fact that he explicitly told Jack, a long-time employee, to call him Mr. Roach a little over an hour ago.
"Oh. That's strange. He told Jack to call him Mr. Roach today."
Claire snorts and shakes her head. "That's because Jack is sketchy as fuck and Jerry finally figured that out when everything went down with Sabrina."
"Sabrina?"
Claire comes to a full stop and gawks at me, like I'm some sort of alien. "Nobody told you about Sabrina? I thought for sure they would have to warn new hires. Honestly, I'm surprised they allowed Jack to have another female assistant," she says as though she's merely thinking aloud. "Sabrina was Jack's last assistant. They had some sort of romance, according to him at least. It sounded a lot more like he came on to her and she wasn't having it. Eventually, she quit and he like...stalked her afterward."
I feel myself bite down on my lip. Hard. This news is incredibly unsettling. "And now I work with that guy."
"And now you work with that guy," she repeats, picking up her stride once again. I follow after her. "Seriously, Ana, if he does anything that bothers you, report him to Elizabeth."
"Mr. R-Jerry told me to call him directly if anything 'confusing' or 'alarming' happens." I visibly shiver and Claire puts one of her long, thin limbs around my shoulders. I don't think I've ever been more freaked out. How naive am I? Just thinking Jack was lacking in the whole interpersonal skills department. I need this job, so here's to hoping Roach's little chat with Jack was enough to curb his behavior.
"I feel skeevy just telling you about all of this." Claire shakes her hair out and stretches her arms. She looks up at the sign in front of the busy bar we're standing in front of. The sign up top says Fifty's and we've apparently reached our destination. It really was just across street. "Now, when we get in there stick with me, girl. We'll avoid Jack together. Shouldn't be too hard, though; most people dislike him."
We walk in, hand in hand, and Claire begins introducing me to a number of SIP's employees whom I have not yet met. Most of them are extremely kind and I'm seriously surprised when I notice that a large number of my coworkers are around my age or just a bit older. Though, I suppose many of the older workers went home to tend to children or spouses or pets or homes that require more care than my little apartment necessitates.
After about an hour and half of hearty socializing and half-hearted drinking, Claire and I find ourselves alone at the bar with our coworkers milling about behind us. While Claire focuses her attention on flirting with the bartender to get us some discounted or free beverages, I hear my phone let out a little chirp in my purse. When I pull it free and find a message from Mia stating that she and Christian will come pick me to avoid me having to take a cab, my heart flutters in my chest and my stomach begins dancing with a swarm of butterflies. I quickly send her a response of where I am. Of course, Claire notices the change in my demeanor.
"Ohhh, is that from the guy?" she croons, waggling her eyebrows at me.
"No, my friend Mia," I explain, a smile on my lips. "But she's with him and they're going to come pick me up."
My phone chimes with another message from Mia: We'll be there soon. Coming in for a drink, too!
"Sooo, I'll get to meet him?" Claire asks, taking a healthy swig of her draft beer and handing me my second Bud Light of the night.
As the minutes tick by and I spend more time with my new friend, my nerves prick up and I start mentally re-reading my correspondence with Christian instead of partaking in the conversations around me. Until today, everything said could have been deemed just friendly banter, but after our afternoon exchanges, I'm left a little more hopeful that he's into me. If he's even half as affected as I am, then we're golden.
While I'm fiddling with the smooth little sticker on my bottle of Bud Light, the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stick up. The energy of the room shifts into something more vibrant, but everyone around me carries on unaffected by the change in atmosphere. In an instant, I recognize the feeling and lift my head to search the crowd for the only person who exudes this kind of electricity. My eyes find him in seconds. It's like my body is attuned to his position. Christian.
With our eyes connected across the room, everything else just falls away and it's almost as if we're the only two people in the bar. The din of the crowd and the thumping of the music fall silent and the only thing I can hear is the thumping of my heart and the whoosh of blood flowing through my body. I can't help the easy, natural smile that crosses my face; I'm just so delighted to see him. When an equally spirited grin takes over his visage, I'm almost bowled over by how handsome he really is.
His hair is completely whacky; he's clearly been running his hands through it all day, or maybe just since he hooked up with Mia earlier in the night. I don't think many men could pull off that look as well as he does. A wayward strand falls over his forehead here and there, framing his face and drawing attention to his gray eyes that are crinkled around the edges from the ferocity of his smile. But what really gets to me, the feature that is absolutely irresistible is the faint five o'clock shadow enhancing the strength of his jawline. Could it get hotter in here?
Christian is at least a head taller than most of the people in the room and I'm sure that if I could break my eyes away from his, I would find more than one woman enthralled by the sight of him. The study of his face could lead some to believe that there's a god; there must have been some kind of divine intervention to create something so breathtaking.
As if out of nowhere, a pair of hands squeeze my shoulders in an awkward massage and I instantly cringe, knowing exactly to whom they belong. Jack. I break eye contact with Christian as Jack comes around my body and stands far too closely for it to be comfortable, laughing softly to himself and giving me that now familiar leering smirk.
"Did you not hear me?" he asks, leaning far too closely to my face and wagging a bottle of beer in front of me like it's something I want. I take a step back, but my progress is hindered by the empty bar stool behind me.
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, so I shake my head instead. Now that Claire has told me about Jack's history with Sabrina, I'm completely uncomfortable with being around him, even if we are in this bar packed with our coworkers. How the hell am I going to work with this man day after day after day?
He takes a step forward and presses the bottle of beer into my hand, lowering his head so that his mouth is level with my ear. I shiver as he murmurs, "I got you a drink. See, I know what you like. We work so good together."
Briefly my weird brain registers that he used good instead of well and I almost correct him with a sarcastic, "We work well together." Luckily, before my ingrained English major gets too out of hand, I remember that we do not work well together, especially not in the way I think he's implying.
I begin to panic when he lingers too closely and I feel his hot breath panting on my ear. My eyes shoot all around the room, stopping briefly on my two full bottles of beer before finding Christian across the room. His smile, like mine, is gone. Instead, his mouth has set in a hard line and a pronounced furrow is evident between his I-can't-believe-those-aren't-manicured eyebrows. And even in my panic I manage to file away an image of an upset Christian, because even he is incredibly sexy.
"I haven't had the chance to show you off tonight," Jack says in a low, scratchy voice that makes my skin crawl, bringing me back from my thoughts of the sexy angry Christian Grey across the room to the here and now. I clear my throat to find the most confident voice I can muster up.
"Excuse me, Jack, but could you take a few steps back." He straightens and looks at me like he's seeing me for the first time. "Please."
"Of course," he mumbles, then takes my requested few steps backward. Something flashes across his face that I can't quite place, but it definitely isn't an expression that sets me at ease. When I look away from his piercing eyes, I find that the grip on his beverage is so tight that the skin under his fingernails is turning white. I wonder how hard he can squeeze before the glass breaks. I swallow, suddenly even more nervous than before, and make a sad attempt of smoothing things over.
"Sorry," I mumble without meeting his eye, "it's just that I'm...a bit claustrophobic and it's already so packed in here. I just needed my space back, ya know?" I give him a shaky smile and hope that it appeases him somewhat, because whatever he was just thinking wasn't going to be good for me.
Jack nods and opens up his mouth to say something, but he's interrupted by the wall of man suddenly by my side. My eyes swing up and up until I see Christian's face. He winks at me and swiftly puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. My cheeks heat and I try my damnedest to stifle the smile threatening to overcome my face, but I fail. He just feels so stinkin' good. I peek up at him and he's mirroring my smile once again. Good god, he looks even better close up!
"Hey you," he says, and the deep richness of his voice sends tingles down my spine and through my stomach and right straight through me to my groin. "I see you got me a drink." Christian reaches down, grips the bottle Jack just handed me, and pulls it to his mouth for a long swig. I'm about 100% sure he saw Jack hand me the beer, but instead of saying anything I watch, completely engrossed, as his Adam's apple bobs and dips under the pressure of his swallow. When I look up from his throat, I find that his eyes are still on mine. Swoon.
I hear a throat clear in front of me, but to my ears it sounds distant and doesn't register as important enough to pay attention to. Instead of turning my attention to whomever it is interrupting this perfect moment, I just continue to stare up at Christian. When I open my mouth to say something, I suddenly can't find my words and all that comes out is a meek sounding, "Hi."
I have no idea how long the two of us just stare at one another. I'm just lost in him and it could have been minutes for all I know.
The throat clears again, this time more aggressively, and the moment is shattered with the realization that we are, in fact, in the middle of a bar filled with people. We both turn our heads to find Jack gaping at us, red-faced, and obviously fuming. I curl a little bit more into Christian's side, seeking protection or solace or something that I think only he can give me.
"Are you going to introduce your friend," Jack sneers, fuming in our direction. If this were a cartoon or some campy movie, he would have smoke billowing out of his ears. The image of that happening causes me to giggle lightly before I open my mouth.
Christian speaks before I recover from my little daydream. "Yes, Ana, please introduce us," he says, with a clear edge to his voice, that only serves to piss Jack of more, I think.
"Oh yeah. Um...of course. Sorry," I say, fumbling to make coherent sentences. "Christian this is my boss, Jack Hyde. Jack this is my," I do a quick search of my brain for what Christian is to me and come up short, "friend, Christian Grey."
Christian pushes his hand out first and Jack takes it. I watch as the two silently stare at one another in some kind of quiet game that only men play to determine who has the better hand-shaking technique or who has the stronger grip. In the end, Jack breaks away first. I don't know if that means something, but I'm impressed. Not that Christian has to do much to impress me. I do note, however, that neither man said that it was nice to meet the other.
The three of us stand around in a thick haze of silence and apprehension. Christian continues to stare at Jack and I continue to stare at Christian and who really cares where Jack is looking - I know that in this moment, that's the last thing I care about. The little stand off is broken when Mia comes stomping over to our spot at the bar.
"What the hell, Christian!" Mia grumbles, gesticulating with her arms outstretched in front of her, her face twisted into a little pout. "You left me back there." Before she can continue on whatever rant I predict is headed his way, she takes in the picture of our bodies tucked closely together. Her eyes run the length of the arm Christian has draped around my shoulders and she smiles widely. "You two look awfully cozy."
Christian slowly pulls his arm away from me and the feeling of loss is immediate and more than a little devastating. With the withdrawal of his arm from my shoulders, I straighten, realizing that by cuddling into his side I had lost more than a couple inches of height.
"I saw Ana," Christian explains with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and another sip of his drink.
"Bud Light, Christian?" Mia gives him an extremely puzzled look that tells me that Christian isn't normally a Bud Light kind of guy.
"Looked good," he clips, sneaking a quick glance down at me which he accompanies with another discreet wink. The fact that he can wink in a way that doesn't scream I'm a creep or make him look like he has something in his eye is completely fascinating.
"Hey Mia," I greet, taking the two steps between us to wrap her in a hug. She kisses me on the cheek and squeezes extra hard around my torso in greeting.
To my right, Jack snorts - it's an awful, disdainful kind of noise that hints at his irritation with my guests or me or all of us. "I thought you were claustrophobic," he sneers, walking away before I can answer him.
Mia watches his departure open-mouthed, appalled by his lack of manners. "Whoa," she mouths. "Was that your creepy boss?"
"Yup. Don't even get me started right now." I give her a meaningful look to indicate that we'll talk about it later, when we're alone or video-calling with Kate. As much as I appreciate Christian's interference, I don't think he wants to know about how improper Jack has been today. And if he does want to know, I don't know if it's a good idea to tell him about it judging by how angry he seemed when he reached me.
Christian excuses himself, citing the need to grab Mia another cosmopolitan. He did say he was going to get her good and drunk so that we could chat later tonight on the phone, but I wonder if we'll still be doing that now that we've seen one another tonight. I certainly hope we do. He takes the few steps to the bar and I finally take in his full appearance. Dark gray slacks that hug his thighs and butt in all the right places. Perfectly pressed collared white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves and the first couple buttons undone. Like his pants, the shirt is tailored to his body, accentuating the strong lines of his muscled arms and chiseled chest. Christian Grey can really, really pull off end-of-the-work-week casual.
With her brother gone, Mia goes on a tangent about their dinner. She explains that she liked it, but Christian was a 'buzz-kill' for the whole meal.
"Wasn't there foam on everything though?" I ask, grimacing slightly when I remember Gordon's not-so-kind words about the new-age addition to culinary practice.
Mia opens her mouth to respond, but Christian comes up behind us and interjects before she can get a word out. "There was foam on everything," he clarifies with a hard stare at his sister and a little playful smirk on his face, "and it was disgusting."
"How would you know? There wasn't a drop of foam on your dinner," Mia scoffs, greedily gulping down a third of her drink in one sip.
"No, not on my dinner," he repeats. Then, looking at me, Christian says, "I always get what I want."
The reminder of what he said in our earlier message conversation conjures up a furious blush to my cheeks. I take a little sip from my bottle in an attempt to remain as cool as he seems, but I know I do a terrible job of looking unaffected when Mia's eyes flip-flop between Christian and I. I'm going to have to hide my phone from her later; I wouldn't put snooping through my messages past her.
"That you do," Mia nods in agreement, mumbling under her breath something that sounds like 'special order' with a few choice four-letter words tossed in.
Claire bounds up to the three of us out of nowhere, and I introduce her as my 'coworker and friend' because I think that's where this relationship is headed. When she notices that Mia's bag is some kind of rare designer find, the two of them go off on a conversation all their own about this designer and that designer. It's interesting to watch since they're both so bubbly and talkative.
I zone out a bit while they're talking about Birkin bags and Fendi watches. My mind drifts back twenty minutes to when Christian first arrived at my side. It felt so incredible to be pressed so closely to his body. He's warm and smells so incredibly amazing, like nothing I've ever smelled before. Any of the guys I went out with in college always smelled like Abercrombie cologne and,or sweaty gym socks. Christian smelled like something else entirely - he must exude his own delicious scent.
With thoughts of our closeness tonight and memories of our intimate moments last weekend, a sudden wave of sadness hits me. He'll touch me when no one else is watching, or at least no one he deems important. Christian was fine with Jack seeing us snuggled up, but the second Mia appeared…
I must have sighed out loud at some point, because Christian nudges my arm with his elbow and looks down at me with a concerned expression. I offer him a weak smile, but look away because I suddenly feel incredibly stupid for thinking that he actually wanted me. To him I'm probably just another girl in the long string of women who fall like sacrificial lambs at his surely beautiful feet.
Just as I sink into the deepest part of my introspection, a hand grazes mine and I'm hit with that zing of recognition I feel whenever Christian and I touch. Before I even have the chance to look up at him, he grasps my free hand and weaves our fingers together in a tight grasp. He takes a step closer to me and pulls our hands behind our bodies, out of Mia and Claire's sight. His thumb gently rubs along mine, until I look at him.
Christian's expression is etched with concern and he silently mouths, "What's wrong?"
I shake my head and smile up at him. I don't want to burden him with my silly emotions regarding our non-relationship. He smiles back and untangles our fingers, but still manages to keep ahold of my hand as he caresses each finger one by one before cupping the back of my hand with his palm. At first his thumb traces the lines of my palm, but after a beat he begins tracing light, almost-ticklish circles that start around the edges of the inside of my hand and get smaller with each turn. These little movements are all I concentrate on. It's like the whole world is centered right here, right now.
When I look up at him again, his eyes are blazing with some emotion I'm completely unfamiliar with. He looks like he could eat me alive and in this moment, I think I'd let him. If we weren't in a room full of people I should be trying to impress, I would pounce on him like a jungle cat. All this coming from the virgin! The sober virgin at that. Kate would be having a field day with me right now.
"Ana!" Mia all but yells, her voice breaking the hold Christian's eyes have over me. I blink heavily, like I'm waking from a deep sleep and turn toward her.
"Yeah?" I say dumbly.
"Don't you think we should go?" she asks, looking at the screen of her cell phone. "It's already quarter after eight and aren't we meeting Kate online at nine?"
Her announcement startles me from my Christian/hand-circle hypnosis and I begrudgingly peel my hand out of Christian's grasp. "We should probably go. I completely lost track of time." And we can't have Princess Kavanagh waiting on us.
"I'm going to make a pit-stop at the bathroom," Mia says already walking away from Christian and I with Claire on her heels. "I'll meet you two at the car."
For a couple second we stand there and watch Mia and Claire walk away hand in hand like they're old friends. The two are whispering conspiratorially to one another, and I feel a pang of regret mentioning to Claire that Mia was the guy I was texting. I turn toward the bar, place my half-full beer bottle on a little cardboard coaster, and turn back to Christian.
"You aren't going to finish that?" he rasps, a faint smile tugging on his lips.
I shake my head. "I'm not a big drinker." For some reason, this fact make Christian's little smile grow into a full-blown panty-dropping smirk. I feel my heartbeat quicken in my chest as he takes a step closer to me. He sets his bottle next to mine and grabs my hand, once again tangling our fingers together, and leads me out of the bar to his vehicle. For the duration of our short, quick walk, I'm highly aware of the tingle coating the skin he's touching. It feels like the opposite of your hand being asleep; rather than feeling numb, every cell touching him feels alive with extra energy.
When we get to the SUV, Taylor - whose first name is Jason, not Taylor - holds the door open for us. Christian gestures for me to get in first and he quickly murmurs something to Taylor before sliding in after me. As soon as the door closes and we're alone in the confines of the sleek black Audi, it's like we're right back in that elevator last Sunday. Our thighs are touching and we both stare at the contact momentarily.
We lift our eyes at the same time and study one another for only a second, then we pounce on one another. We're practically mauling each other with our mouths, and it's fabulous. I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but within an instant I'm straddling him and my skirt is riding up my thighs. He has my hands pinned behind my back with one hand and the other has my ponytail locked in an iron grip. At first I'm fine with the position, but after a few fumbled kisses, the need to be closer to him overtakes me and I attempt to pull my hands free of his grasp.
"Please," I breathe, sensing that he isn't going to let me have use of my arms without my request. Our mouths are still so close that I feel his breath on my face. Christian leans back in the seat until his head is pushed into the headrest. He searches my face and I feel the strength of his binding fingers lessen.
He averts his eyes and says, "Just...just don't touch my chest."
"Okay," I blurt, the need to have his mouth back on mine too urgent to think too much into why I'm not allowed to touch him there. Think later. Do now. I can't even form coherent thoughts.
Christian untangles my hands and releases his hold on my hair at the same time. His arms pull me closer into him and my hands move to his face as I hurriedly scoot further up his lap. I make a mental note that my skirt has ridden so far up my thighs that I'm completely indecent. My panties are totally on show and I just can't bring myself to care. In this moment I don't even mind that it's possible that Christian only wants me like any man wants another notch on his bedpost. The only thing I do care about right now is his mouth.
We aren't even trying to be neat with our kisses. We're a mess of tongue and teeth, and when he bites down on my lip, I let out an animalistic moan that would cause extreme embarrassment under normal circumstances. The sound just seems to egg him on. He lets out a noise akin to a growl and his lips begin exploring my neck and collarbone and sternum and shoulders...lightly sucking and kissing any exposed skin, really. I'm literally panting above him and grinding my hips against him. His erection is pressed underneath me and I briefly wonder if he's as hard as I am wet.
I run my fingers through the hair at the back of Christian's head, marveling in its softness as I pull gently on it in a bid to get his mouth back on mine. When his lips find an extra-sensitive spot behind my ear, I gasp and my hips gyrate of their own accord.
"Fuck," he bites out, dragging his lips across my jaw to my mouth. "What are you doing to me?" he whispers before melding his mouth with mine once again. In a moment of uncharacteristic confidence, I bite down on his lip like he's done to mine and his hips shoot up. I can't help the little smile the move brings to my face - it's nice to know his body has this kind of reaction to me.
Who am I right now? Seriously. What is happening to me? This Anastasia Steele is not the one I'm familiar with.
"No," I gasp. "What are you doing to me?" Now, it's his turn to smile, and I decide that these are my favorite Christian kisses. The ones where he's trying to kiss me and smile at me concurrently.
One of his large hands is spread out along my spine at the middle of my back and the other is flexing at my hip, switching between a tight grasp and light touch every few seconds. His smile fades and we go back to the hurried, sloppy kisses from the beginning of our little backseat makeout session.
I tighten my hold around his neck, getting so close that I'm basically hugging him. I open my eyes and notice that his are already open and searching my face, watching my every reaction to his touch. We stare at one another for a only a few seconds, but something passes between us and whatever it is alleviates any of the doubt I had in him from earlier. I don't know why he wants me or how he wants me, but I do know that he wants me. I may not understand it, but I'll take it.
There's a knock on the outside door and Christian's entire body stiffens. His hands come around and rest on my thighs for the briefest of seconds. "I told Taylor to knock when he spots Mia," he says softly, one hand coming up to smooth back a strand of hair that's fallen in my face.
"Oh," I murmur dejectedly, realizing that our alone time has come to an end. I begin lifting myself off of Christian lap, but he quickly pulls me forward and kisses me softly and sweetly on the lips. It's tender and completely unlike the rush of only moments earlier. I smile at him as we both pull away and start giggling when I say, "I'm a mess right now." He chuckles and gives us each a once-over, reaching out to straighten my shirt and pull the flaps of my sweater back over the straps of my top while I right my skirt.
"You're not a mess. You look stunning right now." I feel myself blush and I tear my eyes away from his intense stare. "Hey, look at me." I do and he smiles broadly. I can't help but reciprocate with a smile of my own. "Will you switch spots with me?"
"Um...sure," I reply, not entirely sure why the middle seat isn't going to be okay with him. Whatever. It's not a big deal, just a little odd. He starts laughing lightly as I swing my leg over his lap, clearly amused by my confusion.
"It's just that I don't want my sister to see how hard I am for you," he chuckles, twisting in his new seat by way of readjusting what I'm beginning to realize is a rather impressive piece of equipment. My eyes widen and he reaches over, grabs my hand, and brings my palm to his mouth to give it a quick, smacking kiss. We smile stupidly at one another until we hear Mia's high-pitched voice and Taylor's deep baritone outside the vehicle.
Taylor opens the door for Mia and she hops inside with a little squeak when her legs hit the cool leather seats. She turns and looks at Christian and I. "I think I'm derrr-unk," she announces loudly. I laugh, but Christian just shakes his head
"Well, your voice is about two octaves higher than normal and it took you a solid ten minutes to go to the bathroom, so I'm inclined to agree with you Minnie." Christian leans forward in his seat and smiles at his sister. It's clear that even though they're very different people, he still completely adores her.
"Shut it," she yawns, resting her head on my shoulder. "I think you did this on purpose, Chin."
I pat her head and feel her weight rest heavily on my side. "How about you rest your eyes for the ride. You and Kate have some planning to do."
Despite her sleepy looking position on my shoulder, Mia lets out a little squeal of excitement before closing her eyes and murmuring, "K."
When Taylor pulls out into traffic, Mia's eyes are tightly closed. Christian slouches in his seat and rests his hand on my knee, once again drawing lazy little circles into my skin. I'm not entirely sure what to do, since I've never been in this kind of situation before and I don't know if I'm actually allowed to touch him given his directive about not touching his chest. Instead of overthinking it, I just rest of head against the hardness of his bicep and relish in his scent and his closeness and just him.
He lets out a breath and we finish our drive in silence, only speaking again to say goodbye.
An hour later, I'm standing in Kate's bedroom in the second dress they've made me try on despite the fact that I'm definitely wearing the first one - or so they say I am. Mia's cracked open a bottle of my grocery store wine, opting to drink it straight from the bottle instead of in one of the glasses I got out for her, and Kate has taken to the idea so much that she's doing the same all the way in Barbados. I'm about to lose it, but at least the two drunkards have hit it off, I guess.
Mia and Kate are chatting excitedly about something called a 'dance auction', and I'm feeling completely out of the loop. "Umm...guys can I change out of this dress?"
Mia turns around a gives me a once over. "Yeah, you definitely need to wear the first one. This one looks fine, but the white one looked amazing."
"Yup, yup," Kate agrees, tipping her now half-empty bottle of wine to her lips and chugging it down. I grimace at the sight and slide the straps off my shoulders. "I don't know why you tried it on anyway."
"Seriously, Kate?" I guffaw. "You're the one who made me try it on." I continue on in my best impression of Katherine's voice, which is really just a higher pitched version of my own that sounds absolutely nothing like her. "The blue is going to look great with your eyes, Ana. You need to at least try it on for us, Steele."
Mia giggles and chokes slightly on a hiccup, but Kate goes on in that gruff, bitchy manner I've grown so accustomed to from her drunk alter-ego. "I didn't make you do anything. In case you don't remember, I'm all the way in Barbados. So quit it with the 'tude." She pauses. "Or suck it!"
"Did you just say 'suck it'?" Mia asks giggling at Kate's favorite phrase. If someone cuts her off while drive or a guy doesn't call her when he says he will or a friend beats her at pool, then she tells them to suck it. Ordinarily it's accompanied by a very lewd gesture of her hands and hips.
"She did," I confirm, stripping down to my undergarments and ridding myself of the heavily bejeweled gown.
"My brother says that all the time. It pisses my mom off to much."
"Christian Grey tells people to 'suck it'?" Kate queries in an astounded, confused tone.
"Um...no. Definitely not. My other brother, Elliot."
"Well, Elliot sounds fantastic. Anyone who appreciates D-Generation X is cool with me."
"D-Generation what?" I say, bewildered by the idea that someone other than Kate tells people to 'suck it'.
"You didn't have a brother, Ana," Kate explains. "WWE wrestling was definitely not something you would have watched."
"I didn't watch it either." Mia takes the dress from my hands, slips it back on the padded hanger, and zips it into the plastic dress bag whence it came. "But Elliot did."
Kate starts up on her defense of fake wrestling, and I get back into my comfy pajama shorts and cami, ignoring her in the process. She's ridiculous and I doubt she actually watched wrestling; she probably picked all of this up from Ethan.
"So, how did your date with Brett or Brent or Brad or whatever his name was go?" I ask to interrupt Kate's wrestling rant, knowing that her dad set her up with one of his employee's sons who's vacationing at the same time and in the same place. Daddy Kav wants his little girl to calm her wild ways.
"Meh," she sounds, shrugging her shoulders and pulling her wild hair into a ponytail. "Brady was a little boring and predictable in that I'm-a-frat-boy kind of way. He asked me back to his hotel room, so he thought it went well."
"Did you go?" Mia asks, not knowing that yes, of course Kate went. She isn't ashamed, so I'm not ashamed to expect this as the outcome.
"Did I go!?" she exclaims, feigning outrage at the question. Mia blushes a bit, looking chastened, but I just laugh. "Yeah I went back to his room."
"Nooooo," I tease, drawing out the vowel. "I'm so shocked." Kate flips me the bird and I settle on the bed next to Mia, pulling Kate's laptop off the dresser and setting on my lap at the same time.
"Are you going to see him again?" Mia asks, oblivious to Kate's love 'em and leave 'em attitude toward men and sex.
"Absolutely not," Kate scoffs, shaking her head excessively. "It was terrible jack rabbit sex. Only good for him. I had to come back to my room and get myself off."
"Jack rabbit sex," Mia snorts into her wine bottle. "That's the worst. The absolute worst! I went out with this guy while I was in France a few times. He was totally hot. Long hair, French accent, funny, and well-endowed to boot, but he had no idea how to use his...equipment, so to speak."
I settle back into Kate's crazy large pile of throw pillows and watch as my two friends bond over their not so great bedroom - or bathroom, kitchen, couch, picnic blanket - experiences with the opposite sex, blushing here and there as they recount their salacious stories. Mia's tales are significantly more tame than Kate's, but she seems enthralled by Kate's wild, carefree attitude apropos of sex. Even I will admit that Kate's life is interesting, and the best thing about it is how unashamed and unapologetic she is in regard to it all. It took me a while to get used to her when she was assigned my roommate freshman year, but clearly it all worked out for the best. I can't imagine my life without her.
"What about you Ana?" Mia asks, lifting a curious eyebrow and giggling. I've neglected to mentioned my sexual status to her, obviously. People always make a big deal out of it and that's embarrassing. "Any bad dates or terrible romps?"
"Nope," I choke out, averting my eyes from both her and Kate. My best friend lets out a little noise that's a cross between a hiccup and a snort, and I raise my eyes to glare at her. "It's not funny, Kate."
"And it isn't a big deal either," she retorts. "I don't know why you're so embarrassed."
"I'm not embarrassed." Yes I am.
"Yes you are."
"I'm confused," Mia slurs.
I sigh and hide my face in my hands. "I'm a virgin," I groan, peering up to check Mia's reaction. She looks shocked.
"Wow," she deadpans. "Good for you. I've always wished that I'd waited longer - my first time was awful."
"Mine too," Kate chimes in. "Geoff Marsters. Freshman year of high school. On his basement couch. Wasted on Apple Pucker. It's amazing that I ever had sex again after that awful experience. Jack rabbit if I ever knew one."
"Garrett Crosby," Mia groans. "Pretty much the same story. Just substitute sophomore year for freshman year and Patron for Apple Pucker." The three of us are quiet for a few seconds, until Mia snuggles in closer and looks up at me. "If you don't mind my asking, why haven't you?"
I let out a breath of air. "There's no real reason, I guess. I've been on dates. Had a high school boyfriend for a couple months, but none of them have really...I don't know...come up to scratch, I guess."
"Until recently," Kate blurts, covering her stupid mouth with her hands when she catches the scathing look I give her. Dammit Kate! That little glimmer of suspicion I've seen in Mia's eyes over the past week reappears and Kate begins laughing her drunk little behind off.
"Oh my god!" Mia shouts, grabbing the computer out of my lap and pulling it into her own. "Is it Christian? Ana won't tell me anything and neither will he and I'm dying to know. Seriously dying. To. Know!" I hop off the bed and Mia's eyes trail after me. "You have to tell me now, Ana."
"Fine," I hesitate, unsure of what I should say and what details I should tell her. I finally settle on the most base, bland explanation. "I like him."
I hear Kate emit some evil sounding groan through the speakers of the computer. "And they kissed!" she yells.
"Dammit Kate!" I groan, wishing she were here so I could punch her. Not in the face, but maybe on the arm or something.
"Dammit Ana!" she yells back.
"Did he kiss you on Sunday? During lunch?" Mia asks hurriedly, but notices my hesitation and turns her full attention to Kate. "Tell me."
"Yup, they made out in his kitchen and in his elevator on Sunday and he almost kissed her twice at your dinner on Saturday." I'm seriously questioning my choice of roommate and best friend right now.
"And he sent those flowers on Monday," Mia states proudly. She did put it together, then.
"And they've been texting all week," Kate adds.
"And they were both all rumpled when I got to the car tonight!"
I cross the room and take the computer from Mia's hands. "And you two have had enough for tonight. I can't wait to see you two in action when you're in the same country," I grumble sarcastically. "Bye Kate."
"Bye Mia! Bye Ana," she smiles and waves. "I love you."
"Love you too." Even though I don't know why.
I shut the laptop and place it back on top of the dresser, plugging it in and heading back over to Mia who's laying supine on Kate's down stuffed comforter with a big grin across her face. I grab her bottle of wine from the bedside table and lean over her.
"I knew it," she utters, looking extremely pleased with herself.
"Mia, I don't wa-" she interrupts me.
"I know," she nods. "I won't make a big deal out of it." I give her my most cross look. "Well, I'll try not to, but I love my brother and I love you and he's never dated. Very inexperienced with the female population as far as I know. So...I'm excited for him and for you because you're both great."
I shake my head and try not to smile at what sounds like sisterly approval. "I don't even know what's going on with us. He's very…" I look around the room and try to come up with some word that explains how confusing, yet magnetic and interesting Christian is. Instead I just trail off because I can't think of word that explains him. Enigmatic? "I'm going to bed."
"Me too," she yawns, pulling back Kate's duvet and crawling under the covers. "Tomorrow's going to be fun. Just wait until you see Christian dance; he's really quite smooth on the dance floor."
"I am not." I bite my lip and turn toward the door, suddenly nervous for tomorrow's festivities. "Night"
"Night, Ana," she whispers.
I shut the door and shuffle my way toward the kitchen sink to dump the rest of Mia's wine down the drain. I'm sure she will be a bit hungover in the morning, so I grab the aspirin from the little shelf over the oven and place it on the counter just in case she wakes up before I do. Once done in the kitchen, I go about turning off the remaining lights in the living room and head to my bedroom.
When the door's closed, I make a beeline for my night stand and take my cell phone out of the drawer. Sure enough, there's one message from Christian in my Inbox. I click it open and smile when I read, Can I call you yet? I text back, yes, and my phone rings in less than thirty seconds. If anything, the man is efficient.
"Hello," I say softly, hoping that the walls are as thick as I think they are.
"Hi," he exhales. We're both quiet for a few seconds. "What are you doing?"
I smile at the low, raspy sound of his voice and crawl into my unmade bed. "Getting into bed," I reply, reaching over and turning off the lamp next to my bed.
"Hmmm," he sounds, and the noise makes the butterflies in my stomach flap back to life. The sound is too close to those made when we were kissing in the back of his car this evening.
"What are you doing?" I ask in return, smiling like a loon in the darkness of my room.
"I'm also getting into bed." Christian Grey's getting into bed with me. Well not with me physically, but with me on the phone. I'll take it. I wonder what he sleeps in?
"Mia passed out okay?"
"Yeah, but…" Should I tell him that she knows about us? That my most trusted confidant drunkenly told his sister about our little tryst?
"But what?" he breathes.
"Kate told Mia that we kissed. I shouldn't have even told her until we talked about it, but I tell her everything and didn't expect her to be wine drunk tonight. She has such a big mouth."
"Well, she is a reporter." I laugh lightly and he sucks in a deep breath of air. "I love that sound."
"Which sound?" I ask, puzzled.
"Your laugh."
"Oh." That is such an incredibly sweet thing to say, and Mia says he doesn't have much experience with women. I don't believe that for a second; he always knows exactly what to say and what to do to get me going. "I shouldn't have told Kate."
"Don't worry about it," he laughs, and the sound of it goes directly to my core. "I'm not."
"I didn't think you'd want anyone to know," I admit.
"Why would you think that?"
"I don't know." I hear the crinkle of bed sheets and the soft creak of springs. His bed. I want to go to there.
"I," he starts, then pauses, as if weighing what he's about to say. "I wanted to ask you earlier, but once we were alone we didn't really get a chance to talk."
"No we did not," I blurt and he chuckles at my response.
"I wanted to ask if you would walk with me tomorrow." My brow furrows in confusion and I flop from my side to my back.
"Like go for a walk?"
"No." He lets out an unsteady breath. "There's a red carpet of sorts at the ball. Normally I would walk it with my sister or another family member, but I was hoping you would want to instead. I understand if you don't; we'd be photographed together and I don't know if they woul-"
"I'd love to," I interrupt, with a smile for his babbling.
"Okay. Good." Christian exhales and the sound reverberates through the phone. Did he really think I would say no? "That was much more difficult than I thought it would be."
"What was?"
"Asking you."
"I'm not that intimidating," I giggle, confounded by his admission.
"No, not intimidating exactly." He's quiet for a moment. Contemplative, even. "You're very...different than the other women I've met."
"Oh," I say, biting back the sting of jealousy I feel at the mention of other women and not really understanding what he's trying to tell me.
"This isn't coming out right," he grumbles and I hear his bed shift once again. "What I'm trying to say is," he pauses and takes in an audible breath, "I think you're beautiful, but I find that to be the least interesting thing about you. Even from the limited time we've spent together, I know that you're kind and intelligent and...I don't know. I want to get to know you better, but I've never wanted that before."
I lick my lips and bite the inside of my cheek to keep my goofy grin at bay. "I know exactly what you mean," I breathe, realizing that everything he just said is exactly what I'm feeling about him.
Everything I know about him is appealing and interesting, and yes, he is handsome, but that is the least interesting thing about him. How did I get so lucky? The human equivalent of the state lottery, the cure for cancer, and Aladdin's three wishes all rolled into one is interested in me. In Ana Steele! It's completely crazy.
We're quiet for few tense moments, neither one of us sure of how to steer the conversation after Christian's confession. Out of nowhere Christian says, "I do not like your boss."
I start to laugh because it's such an out of the blue comment, but I completely agree and I could definitely tell. "I don't think I do either."
"Is he good at his job?"
I think for a moment, realizing that in the week I've been working for him I've never actually seen him work. He usually gives me instructions in the morning along with a request for coffee, then closes his office door and avoids the whole of SIP for the rest of the day. Except Elizabeth. She seems to be the only other person apart from me that he interacts with on a daily basis, but she's Human Resources, so there can't be much work-related discussion going on there.
"I don't know. I've only been there five days and I haven't really had the chance to see him work just yet. Why do you ask?"
"I'm just curious," he says. I get the idea there's a specific reason why he wants to know, but I don't press the subject.
I open my mouth to say 'curiosity killed the cat', but a yawn escapes instead. "Sorry," I apologize, yawning once again.
"No, it's late," he says, and I know our conversation is coming to a close. "I should let you get some sleep."
"Okay," I intone, wishing that sleep weren't a biological necessity. "Goodnight, Christian. I'll see you tomorrow evening."
"Goodnight, beautiful Anastasia. Sleep well." I keep the phone to my ear until I hear the soft click at his end seconds later.
I sit up to set my phone on the bedside table, rolling onto my back when I've completed the task. Today has been a good day, despite all of the issues with Jack. I got to speak with Christian by text and by phone, and we kissed. When I close my eyes, I run my fingers across my lips and I can almost feel Christian's mouth on mine. How could I sleep anything but well tonight?
It's a little late, but it took me forever to finish this chapter. At least it's a long one, I guess! I'm seriously blown away by all of the kind reviews and PM's I've received over the past 40-ish hours since I last posted. Thank you all so much! Keep 'em coming because those keep me writing!
I've updated my Pinterest page for this chapter as well, so check it out! The link is in my profile or you can type in /naiadv/what-if/ after the .com after Pinterest. I hate that I can't link in the chapters.
Thanks again everyone!