Chapter Nine: Nothing Lasts Forever

Christian hurries me home that night so that I'm extra rested for the following day, which he promises to be wonderful. He drops me off, walking me to my front door again, and kisses me goodnight, holding me close for a moment before he breaks away from me. I find that I am swept up in excitement that I begin singing to myself as I step over the threshold and into the house. I stop short at the living room, seeing the light on, and wonder then if Mom, Dad, or Theo are the ones in there. Stepping closer, I see, to my horror, who is really in there, and I try my best to play it cool. Knowing that I should not scream, I mentally cross my fingers like I did when I was a child when I had to walk past or through a dark hallway on my own…or something comparative along those lines.

"Ethan," I say, immediately plastering a smile upon my face which I know is worthy of an Academy Award. "What's going on?" I ask, my hands, unseen behind my back, pressing the hidden security camera button just behind the table which our landline sits on. Eric has installed it when he was here the other day, and I was so pleased that he'd done so.

He is sitting on the couch, holding Tess in his lap, totally unaware. "Were you out with Christian Grey tonight?" he asks calmly.

I let out a little giggle, knowing that I had to be calm. "Ethan, you know that stalking is a felony in the State of Washington, and carries a time of up to a year in prison," I say, hoping that his darkness somehow manage to lighten up at my jokes. "Not to mention the fact that you've broken into my house, which carries up to a twenty-year prison sentence if you've brought a weapon and intend to rob the place…"

He slowly raises his eyes to mine. "You've certainly done your homework on the various laws of crimes, Ana. Did your lawyer boyfriend teach you that? Or has he had the opportunity to teach you to be a proper woman?"

I sighed then, revulsion fluttering through me then. "Ethan, if I decide to date anyone, it's really none of your business," I say, forcing my knees not to shake. "And besides, 'proper women' have not been legal since 1984, thank goodness."

Ethan smiles then, staring openly at me, and I can see that he is stripping me bare in his mind, which makes me sick. "When you want to, Ana, you can tell wonderful jokes... But I am not in a joking mood, and neither are you—that, I know. I just want to know one thing and one thing only," he tells me, his voice deathly calm. 'Has Christian taken what is mine yet, or are you going to quit seeing him?"

I do my best to keep my tone civil, even with someone as sick as him. "I am not yours, Ethan; I never have been, and I never will be. Now, I suggest you get up, put Tess down, and get out of my house. Please, E, it would be better if you would just leave."

Ethan chuckles a bit at that gently sets Tess aside, but it is the only gentle thing he does as his eyes—full of rage—suddenly flash to mine. He gets to his feet, slamming me against the wall like there is no tomorrow, just as he did last Friday night. "I don't want you to ever tell me what is and what isn't my business, you ungrateful slut!" he growls in my face, and I smell the alcohol on his breath. "This is totally and completely my business, Ana, and it will be forever, because that's how long you'll be mine."

"Ethan, please, you're hurting me," I say softly, attempting to brace myself against his shoulders to get out and away from his painful grip upon me. "You're drunk—again. Go home and let me go, please!" I beg him.

"This is mine," he growls, clapping his hand there, down between my legs, and I feel a shiver of pure revulsion down my spine. "It has been mine forever, and it will always be mine, do you understand me, Ana?!" he says through clenched teeth, pressing his face against mine to intimidate me.

"No, no I do not understand. I don't understand because it's not true—none of this fantasy world of yours is true, Ethan," I say, tears pricking my eyes, beginning to hope that the footage that is picking up of Ethan assaulting me is truly being fed into the police station. "I'm sorry if you have feelings for me, Ethan, you don't know how sorry I am. But you know, you know that I've never encouraged them, you've got to know that..."

"But you've never discouraged them," he said hotly.

"My knee to your groin wasn't discouragement enough?" I say, attempting and failing to get out of his grip. I want so much to have the strength to shove him off me, away from me, and to push him to the floor and stick my heel in his eye, but I know full well that I could never do a thing like that.

"That, my dear, is cause for me to take you to court—getting rid of the footage wasn't nearly enough," he says smartly, his grip upon me intensifying further still. "All I need to do is to say that you were drunk, led me on, and that you assaulted me for trying to help you."

"I don't need, or want, your help. I never did," I reply hotly, knowing full well that I must keep him talking, for the sake of the feed to the police station. No matter how much his touch revolted me, I must not go silent. We will need this footage, this evidence, just as I will need the bruises he will inevitably inflict upon me, even though it was enough to make me want to vomit. "Tell me, why do you think I kneed you in the groin, Ethan?"

"Because you didn't like what I was doing," he replied.

"That's not an answer," I say swiftly, knowing that I wield the power now. "I want you to say it—all of it. Say the words, Ethan. Form the complete sentence, dammit! Tell me what you did—tell me what you did to me!"

"It's not like I raped you," he replied, putting his own knee between my legs. "I know you wanted it then, Ana. I know you want it now."

"That's not what we're talking about," I spit at him. "We're talking about what you did to me last Friday night, at your restaurant. Tell me, Ethan, what was that? What did you do to me last Friday night? It may not have been rape, but you sure as hell did something to me. Say the words, I dare you…" I knew I could do it. If I could just get him to admit what he did on camera, then perhaps I wouldn't have to do the sting with Soph next week.

"I put my finger inside you as far as it would go, and you liked it," he said, and proceeded to laugh uproariously, then leaning down, almost as if he was going to kiss me. "Now you just say the words, Ana," he tells me, gripping me so tightly that I fear my arms will break beneath the pressure. "Tell me you liked it. Tell me you wanted it. Tell me that you wanted another one of my appendages inside you."

"I won't," I said firmly. "I said it then and I'll say it now: I didn't want anything of yours inside me, or touching me. You hurt me, Ethan. You assaulted me."

"You bet I did," he replied. "It turned me on. And you liked it."

"Oh, I'll bet it turned you on," I hiss at him. "I'll bet sexual assault has turned you on more than once, hasn't it?"

He grips my arms more tightly. "Who have you been talking to?"

"No one," I say quickly, convincingly, knowing that I had to back pedal, and fast. I had done it; I had actually done it. Not only had he assaulted me—physically, this time—one again on camera, but he admitted to doing it sexually, and liking it. "I'm just so sorry, so very sorry, that you like dominating people," I said softly.

He leans closer. "You don't know the half of it," he whispers, his wet lips at my ear. "I'll tell you everything that I like. You'll have to be fully equipped with this knowledge, Ana. I want you to know every little detail—you'll have to, because you're mine."

"What makes you say so?"

"Because I marked you, dammit," he growls, pulling down my dress so that he gets a good look at his bite mark on one of my breasts. Leaning down, he takes my other breast into his mouth and does the same.

I scream, trying and failing to push him away from me. "You psycho bastard!" I yell, trying to get him off me. "Get off of me, you sick fuck!"

"You want it, I know you do," he whispers against my breasts. He grabs me and shoves me against the opposite wall. "You want me more than life itself! But I'll be good to you, Ana—I won't make you beg for it. Yet." He pulls up the skirt of my dress then, ripping holes in my silk-like pantyhose and slowly proceeds to unzip his jeans, shoving me further into the wall as I attempt to get away from him.

"Ethan stop—"

"I know what will make you really scream with ecstasy, Anastasia Steele," he whispers wetly into my ear. "I want you to say the words. Tell me you want me," he says, guiding himself closer and closer to my crotch. "Tell me you want this—scream my name! Tell me what you want done to you!" he growls at me once more, sending shivers down my spine, when suddenly the front door sounded like it was just kicked in.

In the confusion, I sprang away from Ethan, who was immediately surrounded by police and was handcuffed, swearing various expletives at the men in uniform, and dragged away. I couldn't believe how cool I'd remained under pressure, only breaking towards the end, but I couldn't handle much more of this, of any of it. Shaking, I sat down on the couch, and Chief Eric put a hand on my shoulder.

"Think you'll be all right?" he asked.

I nodded at him, straightening my dress. "Yes," I replied, my voice shaking as I reaching back with my hand to touch the back of my neck. "Will you be needing the tape?" I asked.

"It feeds in to the station, and was saved on the hard drive," he replied. "I'll be able to access it from there."

I nodded a second time. "All right."

"We'll interrogate Ethan tonight and review the tape. Me and a couple of guys will be at the get-together on Sunday, so we can get a formal statement from you then. Until then, can you give me an informal statement now?"

I sighed, not wanting to. "Honestly, chief, I think everything you need will be on the tape. I'm not in an emotional state to talk right now."

He nods. "I understand you completely, Ana, I do." He turns then and motions for a woman to step forward towards me. "This is Detective Diana Matthews. She needs to have a word with you, if that's all right."

"Yes, of course," I reply as he leaves the room. "Hello, Detective Matthews," I say, putting out my hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Not under these circumstances, of course," she replies with a kind smile. "Ana, we've brought Dr. Chang along with us, and she's brilliant at what she does. She will need to examine you briefly, if that's all right."

I feel my eyes widen. "Why?" I ask.

"She needs to check for fluids, and things like that," Detective Matthews explains to me in a patient voice. "It'll better help your case."

I sigh. "Whatever it takes, right?" I peer around Detective Matthews and see a kind-looking woman who is inexplicably white as she steps forward, a wedding band flashing on her finger, so I know she's married someone of Asian descent.

"Hello, Ana, I'm Dr. Cassie Chang," she says politely. "Would you mind lying back on the couch, please?"

I sigh and nod, doing as she says as Chief Eric hollers for the rest of the officers to clear the room. Dr. Chang removes the remains of my pantyhose with her gloved hands, which Detective Matthews takes and puts in a clear-colored evidence bag. Dr. Chang then removes my underwear, which are also taken into evidence, and swabs me briefly before handing over the last of it to Detective Matthews.

"Finished," Dr. Chang proclaims with a smile. "Thank you, Ana. That must not have been easy for you." She hesitates for a moment before saying, "You may want to wrap yourself in that afghan now. I'll be needing your dress..."

Sighing, I get to my feet and take it off, handing over the bra, too. "Can you just burn them or something?" I ask them.

"You don't want them back?" Detective Matthews asks me.

I shake my head at her, the very thought of keeping and wearing that piece of fabric revolting me to no end. "Keep them," I say.

The doctor smiles sympathetically, briefly patting my leg and goes out into the hallway with Detective Matthews. I hear whispers of something seemingly urgent and the words 'fluids on legs' before another set of footsteps come charging into the room.

I looked up then, seeing Christian standing across the room from me. I cover myself before my face with my hands, and he immediately comes to sit beside me and takes me in his arms. He just holds me, letting me cry. I throw my arms around him, feeling as if he is more of an anchor than anything else out there, and I don't want him to let me go.

After I've subsided, he doesn't ask me to tell him everything, and he picks me up in his arms. He takes me up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom, where he turns on the light and sits me down on my bed. Carefully and gently, he takes the afghan off from around me and guides me into my bathroom, where he adjusts the shower to an appropriate temperature, and hands me a towel from the cabinet. He then turns around, waiting in the doorway until I place my hand onto his shoulder, letting him know that I have finished. Christian then waits until I've dried myself and gets me into a pair of shorts and a tank top before tucking me up into bed, running his hands along my forehead.

"Ana, after tonight, I can understand if you want to play it safe tomorrow."

"What do you mean?" I ask him.

"Well, if you want to just stay in, order a pizza, and watch a movie, that would be fine. I don't want you to over-exert yourself. And after what happened tonight, if you never wanted to leave the house again—"

"No," I say, raising my voice for the first time. "No, I don't want to be here tomorrow, I want to go out with you, Christian."

"Ana, I really don't think that's a good idea. You've been through a terrible ordeal tonight, your second at Ethan's hands. And I think—"

"Please, take me out. I need to get out of my head tomorrow."

He sighs at that, a pained expression greeting his face. "Ana, please. Ethan just assaulted you again," he repeats, clenching his fists upon my comforter. "I really don't think going somewhere tomorrow would…"

"I know what happened, Christian," I reply, fighting to keep my temper with him, "because I was there, both times—I have the marks to prove it," I tell him, and he grits his teeth. "Can't you see that me being here tomorrow is something I do not want?"

"Ana, I'm not sure you understand the depth of what—"

"Please," I whisper, touching his cheek and turning it toward me. I guide his face to mine and kiss him, but he is reluctant to deepen the kiss. "I just need to get out of my head tomorrow, which involves being away from here. Please. I don't want to stay here and order a pizza. We could go to your apartment," I suggest, touching his leg.

"No, absolutely not, Ana," he says firmly to me. "You're not ready. It's too soon after what he did to you. I don't want to hurt you."

"You would never intentionally hurt me," I reply. I pull his face back towards mine and kiss him again. "Please, take me away from here…"

He nods like he understands. "All right—but not to my apartment. I'll pick you up at one tomorrow." He kisses my forehead and before he leaves, tucks me in again. Then he walks to the edge of my bedroom by the door, and, just before he turns off the light, and says ever so softly to me, "Sweet dreams, my love," before shutting the door and leaving.

. . .

I sleep until eleven-thirty the following morning, exhausted from my ordeal the previous evening, and wanting to use sleep to block it out. After taking a mandatory phone call from Chief Eric, I managed to inform him to tell my parents and Kate what had happened with Ethan the night before, and firm instructions not to talk about it unless I brought it up myself. He informs me that the DNA will be ready sometime on Monday and that it should be entered into evidence as soon as a hearing can be obtained for Ethan's court date. I thank him as much as I can before hanging up.

I showered for close to twenty minutes—my mind going a mile a minute at the thought of seeing Christian again—and then blow dried my hair, brushing it slowly and meticulously before getting into a pair of leggings, a simple scarlet blouse, a skirt which reached my knees, and a pair of sensible sneakers. I pulled on a sweater and got my slightly bulky purse ready before Christian was due to pick me up.

I went downstairs and said goodbye to everyone before slipping out of the house and getting into Christian's car. We threw ourselves into each other's arms and he just held me as I cried a little longer. He then kissed my forehead and held my hand as we drove across Aurora Avenue and to the freeway. We got off at the Edmonds exit again, this time remaining there and not going east but eventually transferring onto a highway. We made our way towards the water, and soon were in line for the Edmonds/Kingston ferry.

We made the next boat and drove on, and I decided to walk around above deck with Christian. He bought me a bag of popcorn which we ate together on the top deck as we strolled, the wind of the water whistling in our ears, even stopping every so often to feed a few hungry seagulls we took pity on. I saw Kingston coming into view, having not been there for a number of years. It was as pretty as I remembered it, and soon a general yet quite informative announcement was made for people who drove on the ferry to return to their vehicles.

We got back in Christian's car and drove off with the rest of the traffic, continuing to head north along the highway. We passed through Kingston and then into a small town known as Port Gamble, which had a speed limit of only twenty-five miles an hour. The highway, once we were back on it, went up to a speed limit of fifty, which made Christian much more comfortable on the road to wherever we were going. We came to a fairly busy intersection and then drove over the Hood Canal Bridge, the waves on one side acting up ever so slightly, while the water on the other side seemed fairly calm. We continued on the highway, passing various signs for food and lodging as we went, all the while looking at the trees and some interesting cars all around us and not much else.

We then drove off to a right turn, and I knew then that we weren't heading to Port Angeles, Forks, or Victoria. We kept on the side road for a time, passing a sign for a city known as Port Ludlow in the meantime. Christian said that the next bit of road was a small town that was considered to be an unincorporated community known as Chimacum. I raised my eyebrows at the name, as well as the sign welcoming us to that area, carved in the shape of a cow, and painted white with rather large black spots.

We drove through the small town of Chimacum quickly, passing a gas station, what looked to be a small market, a defunct-looking car wash, two restaurants, a fire station, and what Christian told me was the elementary, middle, and high schools, all blocked together in one massive building. Continuing on, we passed an LDS church which made me ill, and then through another area which was considered to be the Port Hadlock/Irondale area. We passed a large-looking antique store, and a Mexican restaurant before going up a hill, where a small and minor an airport was revealed, and I discovered I didn't really remember much of the drive.

Over another hill, we drove through some slightly woodsy areas with lots of trees and even saw some patches of water through them. We then came to what Christian told me was the moment we'd all been waiting for, when a deep green sign with white lettering announced that we'd formally arrived in Port Townsend. I smiled at his enthusiasm, and found that I was truly excited to be back there as well.

We drove up the final incline, and then, once we were around two roundabouts, Christian navigated us down a hill, past several little shops, restaurants, past a QFC market, past a Safeway, to where we came face to face with a traffic light. After it turned green, we drove through, around a bluff, and passed hotels and a diner, and had arrived in what was called 'historic downtown'. I was in awe of the Victorian architecture, and just wanted to live here all over again, just as I had so long ago.

It was around three o'clock by that point, and Christian drove down one street, and then doubled back on another, for many of the streets there were only one-way ones, and, for a small town like this, I could really see why. We parked in a lot by a rather large building, which I quickly discovered was an antique mall. Practically squealing, I allowed Christian to lead me from the car, down the sidewalk, and into the establishment. Not knowing how Christian had known about my love for antiques, I was floored when he informed me that we could spend as long as I wanted there.

I found the room full of books, and quickly selected a few choice titles for my classroom, knowing that I shouldn't return empty handed to the children. After gathering half a dozen hardbacks, I found that I was finished and should probably move on to another room. Although I knew it was the style for a certain time, I found myself turning away from the glass cases which boasted racist figurines. I heard a young woman, about two or maybe three years younger than me comment on them, but her mother—at least, I thought it was her mother—telling her to leave them alone, that she talked about them every time.

"But, Mom," she began.

"Ella, stop," the mother replied, her tone impatient. "Now, come on. We've got to get back home because Lanny should be done with work by now. I don't want Oscar to wake up to an empty house."

"You act like he's a baby," Ella groaned as she followed her mother. "He's two years younger than me. That's nineteen, Mom, nineteen!"

The mother made a comment that I couldn't hear and I sighed. My parents never played favorites with me but that example of mother and daughter truly made me consider if that was an example of it. I knew that there were families like that out there, of course I did, but I'd hoped that I'd never see it for myself.

I went down the stairs of the mall and a young woman, who seemed to work there, asked me if I wanted to buy the books. When I said I did, she kindly took them from me, telling me she'd put them up front for me. I was pleased at the service and continued to browse. I found an old-looking stethoscope that I knew Theodore would get a kick out of, and was pleased that it was marked down to thirty dollars.

I met up with Christian, looking at some old volumes of law books, and when I told him I was finished, he nodded. We went upstairs and I slid my card to the cashier before he had time to pay for me. We left the antique mall and got back into the car, and I was surprised when Christian found some street parking just down another street. There was a movie theater just there, called The Rose Theater, and we got tickets for a venue called The Starlight Room, and I was completely confused.

We walked inside and down a hallway, where we got into an elevator and Christian pressed a button. Coming out on the top floor, a black and white tiled floor greeted us, and a kindly looking, middle-aged gentleman carded me but not Christian, and we then went up to the counter. The kind woman behind it introduced herself as Morgan, and looked Christian up and down. Once Christian put an arm around me, she backed off considerably and asked if we wanted a drink, a Panini, a pizza, or something from their specials board, written in multi-colored chalk behind us.

"No drink for me," I replied. "Just water is fine."

Morgan nodded like I was lame and turned to Christian. "And what will you have, sir?" she asked, batting her green eyes at him and proceeding to twirl one of her thick, red curls on one of her alabaster fingers. Her perfectly manicured nail looked absolutely perfect on her finger, and I felt my mouth going dry as my nerves got the better of me.

"A scotch, please," Christian replied, dropping his arm from my shoulders to my waist, and I felt my lips automatically form into a smile. "And my girlfriend will have your best sparkling cider, please, Morgan, if that's agreeable."

Morgan raised her eyebrows at the pair of us, looking from Christian to me before nodding and quickly getting our drinks ready, disappointment in her eyes. "You can fill out one of those forms for a custom-made pizza or Panini," she said as she went into the mini fridge for the beverages. She proceeds to add ice to the large-style tumbler glasses she's selected for us as Christian takes out a pizza form and I select a Panini one, all the while shocked by his declaration.

I fill out the form and mutely hand it over to Morgan, giving her a small smile and thanking her for my drink, which she hands me. I feel her eyes on me as Christian hands over his completed form and takes his scotch, handing over his credit card and waiting patiently for her to run it through the system. She hands the card back, as well as a picture of Clark Gable on a card stand, telling us that we will be told over the loudspeaker, in our actor name, when our order is ready.

We proceed into the theater, which is empty except for two elderly couples and one middle-aged couple, as well as that mother and daughter. I am surprised, considering that they had to get home to the people called Lanny and Oscar, and Christian and I sit near them. He sees me peeking, and I whisper to him, "I saw them in the antique store."

"Are you tourists?"

I look round Christian and see the older of the two, Ella's mother, staring at the pair of us. I wonder if she assumes that about everybody. "We're from Seattle," I reply. "So tourists to the area if not the state. I'll bet you get quite a few of those here…"

"She's from there," the woman says, nodding to her daughter. "From Seattle, I mean. She lives there with her father."

The girl called Ella smiles a little and shakes her head at her mother's statement. "Not by choice," she replies. "It has slowly but surely become too big a city for me. I'm afraid that I have to live there, regardless, for school, and work…"

"What do you do?" I ask.

"I'm a cashier at Big 5 in Ballard," Ella replies.

"Do you like it?"

She smirks and chuckles at the notion of loving her job. "I could do without all the standing, and the shoes I have to wear," she says honestly. "I'm in school to be a teacher. I love children—they're so wonderful."

"I'm a teacher, at the Ivy Door Academy," I reply. "We have three fourth grade teachers, and I'm one of them."

"That's the old-fashioned-looking private school between Downtown and the University District, right?" Ella asks, curious.

I nod. "Yes. The red brick building, sort of in the hills a bit."

"What grade are you interested in teaching?" Christian asks.

"Second to fourth," Ella replied.

"I thought it was second or third," her mother said to her. "Have you added another to your potential curriculum belt?"

"Apparently so," Ella giggled. "My mother, Lisa."

I reached out and shook hands with them both, finding that I love the friendly atmosphere of this small little town. "And you're Ella," I say, and quickly add, "I saw you two in the antique store. You mentioned going back home to see a Lanny and an Oscar so I was surprised to see you here," I say, hoping that I'm not too invasive.

"My husband is having some issues with one of his sons," Lisa says, shaking her head. "And his job at the hospital has him coming and going at all hours of the day and night."

"So is Oscar your brother?" I ask Ella.

She nods at me. "Younger one, thank goodness. He's nineteen and he's just starting school with me," she explains.

"And what does he want to be?" Christian wants to know.

"A fireman," Ella replies, nodding to herself.

"Really?" Christian asks.

Ella nods. "He has to get all the EMT bull… Stuff done in winter because of some very particular and understanding deadlines they put in front of you beforehand."

I lowered my eyes, my lips expanding into a smile as she quickly attempts to cover up her attempt at cursing in front of total strangers. "Well, I wish him luck," I say. "Do many people come in here?"

"Well, this particular theater here is twenty-one and over, and this is my third time here," Ella replies. "In my experience, it's never been full."

"So…no kids?" asks Christian.

"Besides me," Ella says, giggling again, "no."

We continued chatting for another few minutes before Lisa gives Ella a look to leave us alone and let us continue our date. Christian takes my hand and we discuss the upcoming days ahead, and I know full well what he is hinting at. I see in his eyes that he is looking forward to Sunday, and not just for the tea party.

Our name for our food is called soon and Christian goes off to get our meal. I am formally presented with a lovely looking Panini, and I am quite pleased with its look, as well as the savory and gourmet taste. Christian and I swap bites with one another and are mutually pleased with the other's result as well.

The gentleman who carded me comes into the theater and I notice a few note cards in his hands. He greets all of us pleasantly enough and talks about the movie we're about to see, as well as the other two films playing downstairs, in theaters called The Rose and The Rosebud respectively. He reminds us to silence our cell phones, take our trash and dishes outside when the film is over, and to enjoy the show, before withdrawing. There is a bit of scattered applause at his departure, and the lights go down, a projection screen lowering into our midst. It soon lights up and we are illuminated in movie magic as the previews begin.

In short, it is a lovely film. It is an old classic, The Red Shoes, which I saw back in middle school when Kate and I were beginning our art phase. A young ballerina gets caught up in her dance company, as well as in a relationship with the younger of the two conductors working there. Their boss, who doesn't allow for any distractions, is angered at them—partially for breaking his rules and partially because he is in love with her himself—and fires them. A year later, he lures the ballerina, Vicky, back to the company, and her husband gives her the choice of going off with him or continuing to dance for the tyrant. She looks as if she will choose dancing, but later decides against it and goes running for her husband, but topples off a balcony in the process. She is hit by a train, and as she dies, her beloved husband takes off her dancing slippers, per her command, while we're given a shot of her boss, watching the ballet without her, and a shot of the shoes on their own, no longer magical without a wearer.

Though I'd seen it before, I found tears escaping from my eyes at the sight of what had happened to young Vicky. I was sobbing openly by the time the screen eventually faded to black, and everyone had slipped from the theater, Ella and Lisa saying goodbye to us as they walked by the pair of us. Christian put a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to him, allowing him to envelope me into his arms. I gripped the back of his shoulders, never wanting to let him go.

We left the theater, waving goodbye to Morgan and the kind man who had carded me and introduced the film, and slipped out. Christian wrapped an arm around me as we walked to the car, and let me in. We then drove down the street, turning left at the stoplight and continuing down the street and making another left turn. We went up a curved street, past an old white church before eventually going up a street called Lawrence. We parked along the street, and I noticed there was a second movie theater on that street, and I was pleased that such a small town could have a decent array of options. We then went into a restaurant that had red curtains hanging in the windows, and I find that the name of the establishment was Lanza's.

The waiter showed us to a booth and Christian asked him about certain items that weren't on the menu that evening. The waiter replied that, since it wasn't very busy, that something could be arranged for either of us. Christian then ordered chicken parmesan for me, and I also ordered a cup of minestrone soup, and some apple juice to drink. I drank two full glasses of water before my juice arrived, calming down considerably when my soup came. Christian had a salad, and he held my hand as we ate, discussing what was happening the following day.

"I was just going to carpool with my parents," I said, shrugging.

Christian smiled a devilish smile my way. "Oh, no, no, no. You're coming to the party with me, Anastasia. I want to show you off."

I feel my cheeks heat as I lower my eyes, a smile encroaching on my face at his resolve to keep me with him. "I see," I replied.

"The party begins promptly at three, but I make it a point to be fashionably late," he explains, chewing on a bite of salad as he considers. "I think we should arrive no later than four, if that's agreeable to you."

"I am yours to bend," I reply.

He likes that, and I extend my leg to his inner thigh, the devilish grin returning as the waiter comes to ask us how we are enjoying our starters. We reply that they are excellent and continue eating as the waiter returns to check on some of the other couples.

"You will be perfect," he tells me. "Ava has spoken of this lovely floral patterned dress you have. Its bodice is oval cut, apparently, and has short, flowy sleeves yet hugs your figure excellently, and goes to the knee, with its skirt flaring out nicely…"

I raise my eyebrows. "Ava is nine," I reply, feeling my eyebrows coming together at the statement. "Something tells me those words weren't originally spoken by her, although I know she has a fondness for dresses…"

Christian chuckles. "She only mentioned the pattern," he confesses. "I actually saw you in it in the class picture."

I giggle a bit. "Yes, I know the dress. I'll wear it if you really want me to," I whisper, extending my leg towards his thighs again. I also make a note to text Kate to join me at the mall so as I can pick out something absolutely scrumptious to wear beneath it. I want Christian to be as awed with me as I am with him, and I think I know how to do that.

We finish with dinner at Lanza's, the chicken parmesan completely delicious, and go back to the car. Christian takes me back onto Water Street, the street just around the corner from The Rose Theater, where there is an ice cream shop. Stepping in, I am pleased to find that they have my favorite cone—what they call a 'plain cone' is really a cake cone—and ask for plain vanilla, two scoops. Christian orders the espresso chip, two scoops, in a waffle cone, and we sit in one of their booths, delighting in our sweet treat.

It is around eight-thirty when we are finished, and Christian informs me that the establishment doesn't close its doors, formally, until ten. Looking to the left of the place, there is an old-fashioned candy store, which I promptly enter. They have assortments of stuffed animals and such; a chocolate case at the front counter; little plastic boxes of colorful candy, all lined up against another wall, parallel to the chocolate case; a little area for the candies from Harry Potter; and all sorts of other wondrous things. I go up to the chocolate case and ask for a nice assortment to box up and take home to my parents, and also have them make a separate one for Theo and Kate to share. Then, I have one of a smaller size made for me and Christian for the drive home, and hope he will appreciate it. I take the boxes, carefully put into a nice bag all their own, and pay the kind woman behind the counter. Christian takes my arm at the door to the place and we return to his car.

His car clock creeps closer and closer to nine, and I find I am growing tired. He places the bag of chocolates, save for the small one for us, in the back seat, reminding me not to forget them. He pops one of the chocolates meant for him into his mouth as he navigates us from town. We get back on the main stretch of highway as my eyes grow heavy, and soon I am asleep.

I awake as soon as we pull onto the ferry, content with my dozing. Christian has slipped from the car, leaving a text for me that he's gone to the bathroom. I quickly press the phone button on my cell, and call Kate.

"Hey," I say as soon as she's picked up.

"Hey!" she cries, a little too excitedly, and I wonder if Chief Eric has given her the news about the night before yet, or if she is playing up the "not asking me directly" command. "Theo told me you went off with Christian today. Was today…?"

"No, not today," I tell her, a hint of humor behind my firm tone as I tap my fingers upon the dashboard. "Tomorrow, at the tea party, it will be."

"Oh, cute. You have the day picked out."

I giggle at that and let the topic set for a moment before I come up with an idea. "I really need a favor, Kate…"

"Name it," she replies.

"I have my outfit for tomorrow, but I need something…"

"Oh!" Kate says, a ripple of laughter coming from her. "Don't worry. We'll do something tomorrow before the tea party. You'll be perfect."

"Thank you, Kate, although I could never be that aforementioned adjective in any given circumstance," I say quietly to her, biting on my lower lip, and my inner goddess looks down at me in a condemning manner. "I can't really stand it anymore… I mean, who would ever want to be perfect? Wouldn't it get boring after a while?"

"No, of course not," Kate assures me. "It will be wonderful."

"How do you know?" I ask, seeing Christian coming. "I'll call you tomorrow," I say quickly as he opens the door, not wanting to share personal, best friend conversations with him; not yet, and especially given the subject matter...

"Okay. Be safe! Love you!"

"Love you, too, Kate. Bye."

"Who do you love?" he asks as I hang up the call.

"Kate," I reply, showing him my call logs.

He nods, making a face like he really didn't need to see them. "I see," he says. "Is she excited about tomorrow?"

I grin at him. "Not as excited as I am," I say.

"Oh, really?" he asks.

I lower my eyes then. "Really," I say quietly.

Christian reaches out then, tilting my chin up. "And what could you possibly have to be excited for, Anastasia?" he asks me.

"Everything," I reply.

. . .

I meet Kate at the mall the following afternoon and we grab a Starbucks before I am formally subjected to lingerie shopping—something I never thought I would need. I am red in the face for the whole of the time I am drinking my Frappuccino, wondering how far Christian and I are going to go that evening. I wonder if it will be as simple as a meet and greet, and then Christian will casually drop into the conversation that he wants to give me a tour, whereupon we will slip away and conveniently go to his childhood bedroom. I wonder if Christian will proceed to rip off my clothes, throw me down on the bed, and take me without mercy, rhyme, or reason. I wonder if it will be a slow process of body worshiping…

"Ana!" Kate says, for what must be the fourth or fifth time, placing her hand on my shoulder in a moment of concern. "You're biting on your straw in public," she says, her tone full of reproach as she reaches out and pulled out my drink's appendage from between my lips.

My cheeks heat again as I lower my eyes. "I'm nervous…"

She shrugs.

I rolled my eyes at her, not knowing what else to say. How could she possibly even attempt to remember the feelings I felt? She had done it long ago... "Why should I even bother heaping this onto you?" I demanded, my tone annoyed. "You lost it at seventeen on prom night, like the rest of senior class."

"Mmm, fifty-percent, give or take," Kate says, shaking her head as she attempts to mentally do the math in her head. "But don't tell Theo that I lost it to Joey Michaels, who I didn't even go to prom with."

I giggle at the thought of it. Even though she'd gone to the prom with one Andy Peterson, it was Joey Michaels who found her at the after party to tell her that Andy was making out with the prom queen, Kiki Martinez, in a hotel room, with some heavy petting involved. Knowing that her chance with Andy had gone, Kate snagged what she considered the next best thing—prom king Joey Michaels, who apparently was pretty decent. They ended up dating until our sophomore year of college, when they broke up because he moved to France to study art and painting.

"You know he's gay now," Kate reports to me, her tone casual as we walk towards the heart of the mall. "He sent me what he calls an autumn greeting and told me that he's getting married in November to Henri D'Arburand, a model, who is originally from Milan, but with a name like that…" She shakes her head and giggles a little.

I raise my eyebrows. "The one who does those French shoots that look like Calvin Klein, except they're smoking cigarettes in them?" I ask.

Kate smirks. "Yes. Apparently, I ruined women for him entirely."

"Maybe Theo wouldn't mind if you lost it to Joey Michaels after all," I tell her and attempt to be nonchalant by shrugging. "Besides, you had three boyfriends after Joey—Harry Jacobs who worked at Subway, who wasn't high-profile enough for you; Felix Norton who was that executive but didn't make enough time for you; and then Barney Abrams who was that assistant teacher at Ivy Door that was too into kinky sex for your taste. I think you've found a good middle with Theo."

"And he's had girlfriends, too, right?"

I nod. "Oh, yeah," I say, laughing. "Rosie McDonald, who was a nurse at Columbia University Medical Center. She had three kids and was a little older, and Theo wasn't ready for all that commitment yet. Then there was Chelsea Daniels who was a sorority girl who partied way too much for him. And then there was Serenity St. Clair who was too stuffy and demanding and impolite to strangers and people of a lower class than she was, so needless to say, that didn't work out either…"

Kate nods, thoughtful as we walk again into Nordstrom. She explains the day and a PG-13 version of the night to follow, and at once all the employees are all a-twitter of excitement for me. Dashing around after measuring me, they look at everything they have and find me a dressing room. They write my name on the name plate as they did the other day and usher me in, hanging the various findings in the proper places. They shut the door behind me and wait with bated breath outside, wondering what I will decide on.

After nearly half an hour of stuffing myself into various stages of undress, I decide that I like chemises and baby dolls the best out of everything they've brought to me. The bustiers and corsets don't do it for me, and I decide that being cramped would make me physically uncomfortable, and that added to the emotional stress I will more than likely will feel won't be a good mixture for the night.

I finally decide on what is called a 'microfiber and lace trimmed chemise' and step out of the dressing room, back in my street clothes. Despite Kate's protests, I pay for the chemise myself and accept a bag for it as we leave the store. We walk to the parking lot together and I hug her, telling her I will see her in a couple of hours. Getting into my car and behind the wheel, I grip the steering wheel in a moment of panic.

What will I do—what could I do? What if I can't do it? What if he decides I'm not what he wants in a girlfriend? What if I don't like it? What if he hurts me? What if he turns out to be a total psycho? What if he set this whole thing up? What if he was only doing this to get back at Ethan?

I lower my head onto the wheel, beginning to shiver, the main question finally deciding to enter my mind... What if I couldn't be what he wants?