I do not own Fifty Shades,

All rights go to E.L. James

~ Chapter 2: Skinny vanilla for a skinny vanilla~

So. This was my new roommate: a belly-button pierced lioness.

"Well?" She cocked her head to one side, "Starbucks?"

I snapped out of my momentary trance and opened my mouth to respond to her, only to stutter pathetically, "I-I haven't seen one around."

She furrowed her brow and pulled her phone out from her pocket. While I stood there, motionless, wondering how the hell she was able to fit anything in her pockets with jeans that tight, she must have googled the address for the closest coffee shop.

"There's one, like, five minutes from here," She said, eyes still on her phone, "Let's go grab something to drink before my parents get here with my stuff. We can get to know each other."

The lioness paused and looked up at me, phone still in hand, "Oh. I'm Jen, by the way."

"Phoebe." I responded, offering a small smile.

The two of us left the dorm, weaving between our many new neighbours as they hauled their belongings into their new rooms. I had to speed-walk to keep up with Jen; her long legs provided her with a quick strut.

"So you're from Victoria?" I tried for conversation, practically jogging beside her.

"Yeah, but I attended an all-girls boarding school in Vancouver for most of my life, so I never really spent much time in Victoria," She slowed her pace, thank god, "You?"

"I went to an all-girls school too, but I wasn't a boarder. I'm from Seattle."

Jen groaned and flicked away a loose strand of her wild, red hair that had stuck to her lip gloss, "I will never forgive my parents for doing that to me."

She inhaled, closing her eyes to welcome the fresh September air, "Today is the beginning of my life and I'm not going to be their little-miss-perfect anymore!"

I smiled and nodded, rather stupidly, unsure of what to say or do.

"Look," Jen continued, pulling at the peplum of her top, "I got my belly-button pierced this morning! How's that for rebellion?"

Okay, my roommate was a little crazy. But it's all part of the college experience, right?

"Honestly. You can't even begin to understand how crazy sheltering my parents are," Jen huffed.

I smirked, muttering under my breath, "Trust me, I know."

The Starbucks that she took us to was three blocks away from our dorm, situated beside the school's main library. Already, students were spilling in and out of the library, eager to get ahead during frosh week. I followed Jen inside of the coffee shop, a little bell chimed welcomingly as we stepped inside the cozy interior.

As Jen and I took our place in line to order our drinks, I scanned the surroundings. The space was quaint, and not as busy as I had imagined it to be. On one side sat a couple, both had their laptops out but seemed to be in a colourful conversation. The other side was only occupied by a boy, seated in a vintage-inspired armchair. Legs crossed boyishly, he held an old tattered copy of Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby in one hand while the other was in his messy, ash-brown hair. I kept my eyes on him for a minute, noting that his attention was tied to the book.

He was handsome. Really handsome. So handsome, that I didn't notice my phone go off until the fourth ring. I fumbled while taking it out of my chestnut satchel.

"Hello?"

"Phoebe."

I sighed. He really couldn't leave me along for 20 minutes, could he?

"Hey dad, what's up?" No doubt that this is where he'd tell me that Taylor was to follow me to every one of my classes.

"Listen—Sawyer will be dropping off your car tomorr—"

I froze, "WHAT?"

All eyes in the coffee shop were on me, including those of Mr. Great Gatsby. Our eyes met, and I wish I could tell you that time stopped and that he put that book down and that we shared a moment, but that's not what happened. The moment wasn't shared; it was all mine: the blush, the inability to speak, the pounding in my head…or was that my heart? I didn't even know him and made me melt.

The boy smirked and continued reading.

I took a second to collect myself, gulped, and immediately changed my tone to something quieter and calmer, all the while trying not to think of the handsome boy in the armchair, "I thought we had an agreement."

I frowned. This was so like my father. You would think somebody whose job depended on making deals would know how to keep one, "I don't need it. I can take the bus and campus shuttle if I need to."

I could hear my father exhaling on the other end, "Phoebe, I don't like the idea of you walking about campus. Alone. At night. Take the car."

"You know," I snapped, "The whole point of living on residence was to have a normal college experience. I don't suppose any other normal college students drive brand new cars."

I remembered passing my driver's test at 16 and still not being allowed to drive due to my father's paranoia. My thoughts flashed back to a sight I had been so used to: Taylor waiting for me outside of my school, holding open the back door of the Lincoln town car.

"Phoebe-" I could hear his anger building up.

Jen was up to order her drink. She looked back at my hesitantly.

"Dad, I've got to go, we'll talk later," I muttered before hanging up and tossing my phone in my bag.

I could feel the muffled vibration of a text message from inside my bag- an angry text from my father, no doubt.

I sighed and glanced at the menu above the cashier's head. I could see Jen waiting for her order to be made at the other end of the counter.

"I'll have a grande skinny vanilla latte, please."

The cashier smirked at me as he grabbed a single classic white cup from the stack. He scribbled something on it with a permanent marker and passed it down to the other boy behind the counter.

"What's your name?" The cashier smiled, tousling his dirty blonde hair with one hand.

I raised an eyebrow, "Weren't you supposed to ask me that before you wrote on my cup?"

He laughed, "There are less than ten people in this place, I don't think you'll have much trouble knowing which order is yours. Besides, I was asking out of personal interest."

Is this what boys were like when my father wasn't standing beside me and glaring at them?

"I'm Phoebe," I said, glancing to see if there was anybody behind me in line. There wasn't.

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Leo," He smiled warmly, "Look, don't worry about paying, it's on me!"

Jen stepped in from out of nowhere and grabbed my arm, proceeding to drag me away from Leo to the other end of the counter where my latte was waiting for me.

She rolled her eyes, "Seriously, I leave you alone for, like, two seconds, and you have guys buying you drinks and giving you their numbers."

I frowned and took my latte, "He bought me coffee and he never gave me his number."

Jen rolled her eyes again and pointed one French-manicured finger at my latte. I turned the cup over in my hand to read the sharpie print: Skinny vanilla for a skinny vanilla. Call me! 503 475 6738.

My face went red and I nearly dropped the cup.

I followed Jen out of the coffee shop, hearing the same ringing of the bell triggered by the opening of the door.

"If you ask me," Jen began, taking her sunglasses out from her small shoulder bag, "The cashier wasn't even that hot."

She put her sunglasses on, tousled her big hair, and smacked her lips, "But I'd take that Gatsby guy's phone number any day."