A/N: Meet Rude
APoV
The last thought in her mind as the crash happened was how could he have done this to her? Was the word victim written on her forehead? All those lies, the deception! How could he smile at her over ramen? Her hands instinctively clutched at her stomach.
"Sorry, little blip," she says, as sounds of crushing, cracking, tearing, screaming. Was that her? She didn't know. Everything was at once dark and silent before everything went white.
"She's crashing! Get the cart! Intubate her. Respirations low. Can somebody get the paddles? Ana phases in and out with a prick. All goes silent once again. Cold, so tired. Is this the way it was supposed to end?
Ana lay silent in the bed after the emergency team left. The doctor, fresh off her internship, slides down the wall with a huff, tearing off her face mask. She'd done everything she could. Anyone would say it was textbook, but Jane Doe had thrown the book out and made them all start from scratch. As soon as she would fix one bleeder, another one would erupt in its place. It was all she could do to save the baby. Four months pregnant, no ID. She didn't want Jane to be another statistic; she had fought too hard to survive. All she knew was that no matter how much she had personally invested in the victim's survival, much of the work had to come from the patient herself. Jane Doe obviously had a strong immutable will to live. She crashed at least four times before the surgery had concluded, and the baby's heartbeat on the fetal doppler had barely fluctuated. A mother's instinct to protect her cub at all cost. This was a woman she wanted to know.
Oh no she thought running. She was going to be late! Throwing on her shoes, hopping on one foot. As she gets ready to close the door the phone rings stridently. It was Kate, her would-be roommate had she not come off the waitlist due to someone's sudden removal from the rolls. Who would have thought: Anastasia Steele, Harvard Junior? Against all odds, with her low income and her family's inability to contribute, she still managed between scholarships and a full-time job to get into Harvard. Kate would have been her roommate at WSU, but before they could make those arrangements permanent, she received the letter from Harvard saying that the spots that were filled, but one had come up empty and had her name on it. Not even Kate could begrudge her that. Who would pass up Harvard for WSU?
Still, she stayed in touch with the rather tenacious Kate Kavanagh; if anything, she was good for a laugh and a view into what would have been her life. Surprisingly, Kate hadn't even applied to Harvard; she wanted to stay close to home, near the headquarters of her father Eamon Kavanagh's media Empire. And her mother wanted to keep her closer to home since her brother Ethan had already spent so much time in England and on the East coast. In fact, sometime during her sophomore year, she met Ethan. He was a typical blond surfer and Ana felt absolutely no interest despite Kate's and Ethan's efforts otherwise. He just seemed like another brother to her, not that she had ever had siblings. But the Kavanagh children were the closest thing to it. Every once in awhile, Ethan would drop by on his way to Seattle to visit the folks. Sometimes he'd bring back packages from Kate and vice versa. They had dinner or lunch from time to time, but it was going absolutely nowhere and they both knew it.
The conversation was relatively brief as Ana was on her way out the door, but once again she was reminded of Kate's tenacity as she mentioned her pursuit of some elusive billionaire interview. She was sure that it was her superhighway to the Pulitzer one day. Ana didn't hold out much hope, but Kate did have connections and anything was possible. It surely wouldn't be for lack of trying. She never met anyone with such a demanding personality before, but she was always good for a laugh and some amusement.
Why people wanted to delve into someone's privacy so much she couldn't understand.
"But Ana, he's never pictured with anybody! I'm wondering if he's closeted?" she'd pondered..
But it didn't matter to me. His closet, his bedrooms, his cars, whatever this guy had, obviously a personal life wasn't a priority and personally, I couldn't see the interest.
Instead, Ana was focusing on her own writing career. She'd published a few short stories and things were looking up. She had very supportive professors, counselors and advisors, and she was looking at getting a job at one of the local publishing houses. Even if she had to edit textbooks it would be better than working in the hardware store. Being raised by Ray did have its benefits and one of those was knowing her way around a hammer and a nail, but sometimes it was grueling, if a bit tedious, work.
Grabbing her books and her bag, she tossed on the jacket as she booked out of the dorm she shared with three other girls. That was another thing; it was a tremendous sacrifice to share such a small space with so many people. Her room here was even smaller than the one in Texas and that was saying something.
Just thinking about Texas set her teeth on edge, as another reason why Harvard was her first choice of schools. Not only was it as far from Texas and Las Vegas as could be, she could also distance herself from the demands of Carla, her flighty mother.
She likes to say that Carla is a hopeless romantic, in love with love, but the fact was Carla didn't have any usable skills. She never held a job more than a month that she could recall. And often she heard her mother say how she regretted not getting an education, not that she ever pursued one even when she had the chance. She made it seem as if Ana had stolen her youth, when in reality, she had tossed it away playing a game of Russian roulette with her crotch, hoping to bag a big deal. Instead Frank's family gave them the cut-direct after he died. There was very little in terms of death benefit, especially considering Carla had all but squandered most of it before Ray had taken pity on her and given them a roof over their heads.
Once again she did what Carla does best: bite the hands that feed her. But that's what bitches do, Ana thought derisively. Looking up, she saw the clock tower and added a little bit more pictures that it couldn't stand to have such depressing thoughts so early in the morning considering there was so much day left. She didn't have time to wallow in self-pity.
Suddenly, boom! And she was falling on the hard, unforgiving ground, her elbow hurt. The wall she thought she'd smashed into was a man.
"Where the hell did you think you were going so quickly?" he shouts, pushing back at her, almost causing her to tumble again. She looked up at the face of an angry god; a tall, beautiful, angry god, with glorious copper hair and turbulent gray eyes. With full lips pressed tightly together. Thankfully, that didn't stop him from reaching his hand out to help her right herself.
"I'm sorry," she murmured haltingly, gingerly touching her elbow which had begun to bleed.
"Fuck!" he shouted. Someone had a potty mouth, she thought to herself. His coarse language didn't suit him. As she got a better look at him, she noticed he was dressed in a suit. She thought he must be a professor. He looks like a B-school teacher. They're the only ones besides maybe the lawyers but they tend to be a little bit more tweedier than this clean-cut paragon.
Exasperated, he says, "Not so fast. Let me look at that elbow."
Even he could see the blood coming through the sleeve of her jacket.
"Where's your dorm?" he said briskly. "You're obviously already late, you can't go to class like this."
Gosh, she thought. he's such a domineering bastard. It's a good thing he's so beautiful, otherwise I don't see how anyone would put up with it. She exhaled, blowing her bangs out of her forehead in agreement. This first class is just going to be a bust. She'd have to email her teacher. Good thing Dr Hill was so easygoing. It was her favorite class though, and the topics have gotten very interesting.
Thankfully, as the daughter of Ray, she still had a very well equipped first aid kit. Not that she needed it much, but better safe than sorry. He opened up the kit, taking out some alcohol pads, antibacterial gel and a bandage. Everything was very efficient although the way he held her arm was slightly clinical.
"There, all set,'' he said decisively. Strangely they hadn't yet exchanged names, so she offered hers.
"I'm Ana'' she said, reaching out her hand. Hesitantly, he held out his to her, shaking it. Damned if she didn't feel some type of electric shock. Both must have felt it, as they looked at each other and to their hands in surprise. He looked at her speculatively, hesitating for a moment.
"Trevor," he offered.
"Is that your first or last name?'' she asked.
"First, speaking of last names, what's yours?'' he countered.
"Steele, Anastasia Steele, at your service," she replied, as his eyes darkened with an unnamed emotion.
"Trevor Elliott," he responded. "So, how long have you been studying at Harvard?"
"Oh, this is my junior year,'' she said. Being a Harvard student had never felt like old hat to her. There would probably never come a day when Ana, from such obscure beginnings, would take being a student of the most prestigious schools in the nation for granted, though some did.; However, they'd probably never been wait-listed or financially challenged. She had the grades, but they had the goods and sometimes that made all the difference. Sometimes, she still felt like the Little Orphan Annie her classmates had mocked in grade school.
"How about you?'' she returned. She thought he looked a little bit like a professor, but who knew? This was Harvard which caters to all types, so it didn't pay to make assumptions.
"I'm a graduate student in the business school,'' he said, "sitting for my PhD in international business relations."
"Wow!" she exclaimed, "that's awesome. So you're a graduate student?"
"That's what I just said," he laughed. Their hands still hadn't stopped touching and she felt no desire to pull away.
"Would you like some coffee?'' she asked. "Since I'm here, I'm going to make myself some tea."
"Why did you assume I'd want coffee?" he asked, amused. "How about what you're having?"
"You're in business school. Don't you all run on coffee? Besides, I'm sure you wouldn't particularly like my way of having tea, Mr Elliott."
His name reminded her of Persuasion, one of her favorite books, although she still leaned towards the darker British classics. Being at Harvard had opened her mind to the various genres of literature, and these days she tended to devour all kinds of novels, including science fiction and fantasy.
It's about doing what you love while giving them what they want. One thing about Harvard: no one graduates without understanding a little something about the bottom line. Had she stayed at WSU, she might have still had blinders on. But Harvard was a place for go-getters. Even the bottom student could outstrip some of the average students at other schools. That was just how competitive it was.
"What do you study?" he asked curiously, slowly disengaging his hand from hers.
"Literature and creative writing," she said. "I considered the publishing route, but I've always had a burning desire to write a novel or two."
"So instead of publishing other people's works, you want to write your own. Ambitious. I like that."
It was on her tongue to retort, who the fuck cares what you like? Instead she found herself smiling inanely at his retort. "So glad you agree,'' she said, unable to keep the slightly snide tone out of her voice. Oh so glad you approve.
"Well, you were in a rush too, so I guess you'd better be going," she said suddenly.
"No. Wait, is that coffee still on offer?"
"Sure ," she said. "how do you like it?"
His eyes narrowed again. "I like it black with one sugar."
Ana goes to the one-cup coffee machine, adding the requisite materials; a dark Colombian roast, filtered water running into the machine before reaching into her tea caddy and with a small spoon, dishing out one cube of sugar. After the machine finished, she dispensed his beverage into a disposable cup so he could take it to-go. A few minutes later, her tea kettle whistled and she took a bag out of her purse, and dipped it into the blazing hot water, swirling it for a moment or two, pulling it out, to set it carefully on the side of the saucer.
"Would you like some more water with that tea?'' he asked teasingly." Did you at least dip the bag long enough for the tannins to be released?"
"I like my tea black and weak. Always have," she replied tersely.
"So I gather you're a creature of habit?"
Yeah, she supposed she was. "Well there's something to be said for stability in these turbulent times. And also I think I like how tea smells."
"You don't consider that wasteful? You could probably make two other people tea with that bag."
"You'd think so, wouldn't you? Unfortunately, that doesn't work. I've tried it before, pinching pennies. It was worth experimenting, but it turned out awful. There are other ways to repurpose a used tea bag, but making more tea is not one of them."
Though Ana enjoyed meeting him, she would have to get her ass in gear so she wouldn't miss another class. Standing up, she took the final sip of her tea, then took the teacup to the sink to wash it. Trevor also stood, looking at her consideringly.
"It was nice meeting you, Anastasia," he said seriously. "They certainly didn't make them like you when I was an undergrad."
Was that a compliment? She couldn't tell. "Same. Thanks for the first aid. Let me walk you out."
Was it wrong that she wanted him to stay? Still, she walked him to her door. He suddenly turned around, looking down at her. "Do you mind if I give you a call sometime?"
"Sure," Ana replied, scrawling her first name and number on a Post-It and handing it to him, certain that he'd never call.
"Have a pleasant day, Ms Steele. Be safe," he stated seriously. He sounded so formal, but she guessed he was very serious, as most graduates were.
"You too," she said, waving him away. After she closed the door, she fanned herself. He was hot. But strange. Ana didn't have time for strange. She needed to study.