AN: So since fanfiction says I can't upload a new story for 12 hours (because I just made an account) I've decided to write more… yay? Oh and I'm going to take liberties with the CIPA disorder (a smidge) and if something I write isn't correct about it then tell me please. I mean, I may not fix the problem but I like people voicing their opinion and then I can respond as to why I did what I did yada yada yada. Also, I feel the need to defend Kate in my story because there are a ton of stories out there that just rag on Kate all the time – like Ana's an idiot and chose a horrible best friend or something. Give the girl a little credit please. Also, I have my 5 month old puppy sleeping next to me and he's the most adorable thing ever and I want everyone to know because he's perfect (except when he's being an asshat).
EL James owns all…. except for my adorable as fuck puppy.
Listening to The Neighbourhood's "Afraid" while writing this.
See you at the bottom.
Chapter 2
CPOV
God
Fucking
Damn
It
All
To
Hell.
Don't people die if they don't sleep enough? It feels like I haven't slept properly my whole life. I awake from yet another nightmare of pain, burns, and one overdosed addict. The dreams are getting more frequent and it's taking more of a toll on me than it has in the past. There's got to be something I can do, anything to lessen the frequency of these haunting memories. Should I tell Flynn they've been getting worse? I snort at the mere idea – he'd just talk about meditation and what my goals are and spew endless bullshit about me needing to believe I deserve to be fixed before the "real work," as he puts it, can begin. Sorry Flynn, but I can't believe something if I know it's not true.
I get out of bed and head to the bathroom, stripping my clothes off as I go, and step into the shower. I turn on the water and get it hot enough to hurt just a little bit, I feel like I need to sanitize myself after those terrible dreams. I need to cleanse myself of that life. As I wash my body and feel the all too familiar scars on my chest, I think about what today may hold – nothing too interesting I think, just some meetings and an interview I think, with someone from WSU for the graduation. I'm annoyed that I even have to attend this inane graduation ceremony but Sam from PR says it looks good and I need to show I care (at least outwardly) about the people behind the soil science research I'm funding at the university. Whatever. I don't give a shit if people think I care or not.
I dry myself off and shave in front of the mirror, not really caring if I cut myself – it's not like I'm trying to impress anyone. As I wipe off the last bit of shaving cream, I sigh in exasperation at how mundane my life seems to have become. I'm listless and I can't think of how to change it. Maybe switching something up will change my direction, and I could work past these nightmares. Maybe it would help me feel more interested in my own god damn life. Maybe.
I change into some sweats and leave the bedroom, in search of something to do. I usually play the piano when I wake from these dreams but it doesn't sound appealing to me right now. I want to do something different. Perhaps a new sub will keep my attention. Susannah was good on paper for me but her personality was aggravating to say the least. I couldn't stand to hear her say anything other than "yes Sir" and "no Sir" and even that became annoying to me. She was just… lacking something I guess. In fact, I feel as if all my subs have lacked something, but I don't know what that something is. I got bored with them. Or they got too clingy. Both always end the same: an immediate termination of the contract.
I find myself outside, standing on the balcony overlooking Seattle from my penthouse. There are a few groups of people on the street, mostly young people walking home from the clubs and bars. I bet they're laughing and stumbling on the sidewalk without a care in the world. I wouldn't be surprised if Elliot was among them. He's always so carefree and jovial. I know he has a serious side that he shows when necessary but that's a rare occasion. He says I'm serious enough for the both of us. My brother is always cracking jokes at my expense, though I understand why, since I seem to have so much fodder for his jabs – my temper, my lack of familial involvement beyond the obligatory, how private I am – yes, I can easily see how much fun it is to poke fun at the brooding businessman – just a tidal wave of endless laughter.
I watch the sun rise over the horizon and decide it's time to start my day, though I feel that the days and nights just blend into each other now, with no real punctuation indicating a new beginning. With a sigh I turn to go inside and change into something for work. I text Taylor and let him know I'll be ready to leave at 6:30, giving him 30 minutes to get his gruff face out here. I change into a suit and walk out of my bedroom – though besides the closet, I'm not sure it looks like someone's personal bedroom. There's nothing individualized about it – I used to like that but now it feels cold, familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. Jesus, I seriously need to snap out of this. I'm Christian Fucking Grey – I don't get stuck in ruts.
As I walk into the great room, I catch sight of Mrs. Jones pouring two cups of coffee from a fresh pot.
"Morning Gail." I greet her with, hopefully, some semblance of cheer. She's very kind and puts up with just as much of my shit as Taylor, if not more. Even though I pay her a generous amount to put up with everything, her efforts should be appreciated more than I currently do.
"Good morning Mr. Grey. Would you like your usual omelet for breakfast?" She says with the utmost professionalism as she straightens out an invisible wrinkle in her apron.
I tell her it sounds fine and sit down at the breakfast bar with my coffee. I pick up the newspaper and am halfway through the sports section when Gail places my plate in front of me. I'm so glad I have a live in house keeper. I can't cook worth a damn. It's just never been a skill, or an interest of mine – I'd be surviving on burnt toast and cold cereal if it weren't for her, but even that would require me to go to a grocery store. I haven't the slightest clue how to navigate a grocery store.
Taylor emerges from his quarters looking like he slept soundly all night. Great. The security gets to sleep like a fucking baby but the boss who should feel secure gets 2 hours max.
Enough moping Grey. You've been doing this for years, it's not going to change now so just get over it.
Once at the office, the day goes by quickly – just a blur of the same things over and over again – Andrea anticipating what I need before I say it, Olivia bumbling like a fool and then staring at me with eyes glazed over, Barney getting overly excited about a new piece of tech, and Claude gloating like an ass when he knocks me on mine for the 4th time since the beginning of our workout.
"Jeez Grey, what's with you? It's like you're not even present in the ring – don't be an idiot. If you come to fight, you better fight okay? I think we're done for today." His scolding frustrates the fuck out of me. I know I could knock him down at least a couple times when I'm on my game. I never lose concentration. I need to focus. I need to find something to focus on.
Or maybe someone?
I'll have to think about that later, as Bastille and I are heading back up to my office after hitting GEH's private showers in the 5th floor gym. It was one of the best ideas I ever had, adding a full gym to the building – stress relief only a few floors away. At least it usually relieves my stress. Not today.
Bastille and I discuss the latest fights we've seen and he suggests we see one in person some time, says he's been to a few with Elliot and they're always a blast to watch. I'm not really a hang-out-with-people type of person so I just say a half-hearted maybe as he gets up to leave me to my work.
As he leaves, he turns to me and says, "Golf this week Grey?" and I know he's doing it to piss me off. He knows I hate golf – he also knows I'm not great at it and need to improve my game since so many other company executives from other areas like to do the majority of their negotiations on the green. I nod, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an actual yes. He chuckles, smug motherfucker, as he walks out of my office.
I look at my calendar and see that I have that interview next with one Katherine Kavanagh from the WSU newspaper. I really don't want to deal with this girl right now. She only got the interview because she was so fucking persistent. But even persistence wouldn't have sealed the deal – good thing she's Eamon Kavanagh's daughter, of Kavanagh Media. I'll be able to get a favor from him out of this trivial interview. At least some good will come of this.
Just then, Andrea buzzes me to let me know a Ms. Anastasia Steele is here to interview me for the WSU student newspaper.
Who the fuck is this Steele woman? Where the fuck is Kavanagh?
I ask Andrea this, not bothering to omit the cursing – she's used to it. I pay her to not flinch at the cursing and demanding nature of this job. She says that Ms. Steele is here to do the interview in Kavanagh's place. She better have a good explanation for this. I don't like to be subject to surprises.
The door opens and in walks – no glides gracefully, as if she were floating on clouds – the most stunning woman I've ever seen. Long chestnut locks flow down her back and curl at the ends. Her skin is luminous, almost glowing – though it transforms to the most fascinating shade of pink as her blush overtakes her – she sees me staring at her like a fucking depraved lunatic. I mentally slap myself for being so obvious while trying to calm the growing erection that is now straining against my zipper.
Smooth move Grey. Way to freak someone out as soon as they walk in the door.
I hold out my hand to her and am surprised by her strong handshake as I introduce myself to her. "Hello, I'm Christian Grey. It's a pleasure to meet you."
It's a pleasure? Are you fucking kidding me? Who the fuck are you? God damn Mr. Rogers?
"The pleasure is all mine Mr. Grey. I'm Anastasia Steele. I'm filling in for Katherine Kavanagh – she's come down with the flu unexpectedly. She sends her apologies." Her voice is like silk, velvet, sunshine, and warm caramel all wrapped into one. The way she says Mr. Grey grabs my attention in more ways than one – and it's getting rather difficult to pretend certain parts of my anatomy are not interested in hearing more of that luscious voice.
I think I'm in trouble.
AN: I don't know if I'm all for the cliff hanger type stuff (maybe this isn't even considered that) but this seemed like a good natural place to end it. I will be switching POVs in later chapters so it won't be just Ana or Christian (I might throw in Elliot once in a while because he's fun) for a whole chapter but I wanted to introduce my versions of these characters in a more concrete manner. I like a little humor in my writing so you'll see some of that too. I'm a tad snarky so the characters will reflect that once in a while. Ana's also got some sass, but I'll explain my reasoning for making her the way I did later, or just if someone asks. I'm not one for unnecessary explanations.
Also, by the time I finished writing this chapter, the adorable puppy turned into a complete derpy asshole. He's now asleep again, tired out from all his assholeness no doubt. If he wasn't so cute, I could be mad at him, but that's impossible because he's just too adorable.
adios lovelies
vvs
