I race for the glass doors, and I’m free in the bracing, cleansing, damp air of Seattle. Raising my face, I welcome the cool refreshing air. I close my eyes and take a deep, purifying breath, trying to recover what’s left of my equilibrium.
Wait guys… is she trying to say she feels better after reaching outside??
Again, we get it. Stop being so wordy. This isn’t artsy, it’s wordy, annoying and repetitive… for absolutely no reason.
I’m still trying to figure out why Ana needed cleansing, refreshing and purifying Seattle air? I mean, aside from asking Christian if he was one of them homosexuals she keeps hearing about, absolutely nothing about anything that happened was enough to result in this reaction. If James is expecting for me to believe that Ana is somehow sexually aroused by this exchange, she’s an idiot. (Wait, nevermind. I just answered my own question.) Ana doesn’t even know that touching herself will produce some form of pleasure… and she’s like 22. (Warning: Spoilers.) No one is that virginal.
I don’t understand my irrational reaction.
Welcome to Fifty Fucking Shades of Grey.
He doesn’t suffer fools gladly, but why should he?
Oh whatever, Ana. He seems to enjoy himself suffering you for the next three books. How would I know that? He talks about it literally 8 times on one page. Never once are we given any real insight why either.
And Kate’s questions—ugh! The adoption and asking him if he was gay! I shudder. I can’t believe I said that. Every time I think of that question in the future, I will cringe with embarrassment.
LOL jk! I won’t ever think of it again!!1!
Shaking my head, I realize that Grey’s more like a man double his age.
So, you’re saying he’s like a 54 year old man? Hmm…
…but I shouldn’t dwell on it. Put it behind you. I never have to see him again. I’m immediately cheered by the thought.
Yet somehow… this is the man if your dreams? What is it with all of these books getting popular that have the weakest women ever as the “heroine”?! Nothing is encouraging about a girl who has zero backbone and only complete once she finds a fucking man to boss her around and beat her ass when she buys the wrong brand of toilet paper.
As I pull up outside, I know Kate is going to want a blow-by-blow account, and she is tenacious.
See, after reading these books already… LITERALLY EVERYTHING James writes sounds sexual and inappropriate. Way to make even the simplest of phrases sounds disgusting.
Also note: this is the first time James uses “The Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition” like it is supposed to mean something to me, other than the fact that it solidifies Kate as a pestering bitch. Oh, wait.
“He doesn’t talk like a man of twenty-something.”
Oh really? I’ve read the books, so I know for a fact, you’re right about this, Ana. He talks like someone who just turned 13 and learned the word “fuck” for the first time. That is literally ALL I can remember about any of the shit he says for three entire books. I mean, I swear all the time. (If you haven’t noticed.) But don’t tell me he doesn’t talk like someone his own age and then not follow through.
That wasn’t the reason, surely? He just wanted to show me around so I could see that he was lord of all he surveyed. I realize I’m biting my lip, and I hope Kate doesn’t notice.
How anyone is this stupid and still functioning in society is beyond me. Of course he wanted to show off all his power, then take you in a utility closet and show you his dick. NO ONE IS THIS OBTUSE. GOD.
And what the hell is SO FUCKING TABOO about biting your lip? That is a completely normal reaction… when you are basing your character on Kristin Stewart.
Damn, she’s [Kate] inquisitive.
Oh, is she now?
“You, fascinated by a man? That’s a first,” she [Kate] snorts.
I think Kate just called you a lesbian, Ana. YOU JUST GOT BURNED, ANA!
“Oh, Ana, it can’t have been that bad. I think he sounds quite taken with you.”
Yeah, a few minutes of an interview recording is definitely a dependable source to know someone is interested. Especially when he didn’t really say anything of consequence, except if you wanted to go on a tour of his business.
I call my mom in Georgia to check on her, but also so she can wish me luck for my finals.
Don’t you mean Jacksonville? Ugh. Also, how needy can you be? Calling your mother to fish for compliments.
Side-note: Ana mentions her mother’s Husband Number Three here. For anyone who has read this, does the question of WHAT THE FUCK WAS WRONG WITH HUSBAND NUMBER THREE ever get answered? I’m trying to recall, and it honestly may have been answered but I was just too grossed out by this series to process it. Anyone know?
“Ana? Have you met someone?” Wow… how does she know that?
Yeah, Ana, HAVE you met someone? Someone who you literally just said you are so happy you will never have to see again? You are the worst. This story makes NO sense.
So, now we meet José: the first person she met when she first got to college.
We recognized a kindred spirit in each of us that day, and we’ve been friends ever since.
Don’t kid yourself, Ana. Obviously, he wants some of that magical vagina. The only reason he has stuck around is because he is waiting to roofy the fuck out of you.
José and I are good friends, but I know deep down inside, he’d like to be more. He’s cute and funny, but he’s just not for me.
Oh man, cute and funny, and doesn’t want to make you sign a contract because the shit he’s into is creepy and not sexy-sounding at all? DEFINITELY NOT FOR YOU!
Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me.
Are you gay, Mr. Grey? I wince at the memory.
Okay, guys. I lied. Sue me. She thought about it once. Like a page later.
So Christian, in completely creepy stalker Edward style, shows up to Ana’s work (which is like Home Depot or some shit like that). SURPRISE!!
Holy crap. What the hell is he doing here looking all tousled-hair and outdoorsy in his cream chunky-knit sweater, jeans and walking boots?
Isn’t it OBVIOUS, Ana? I mean, are you really THAT STUPID? He is clearly rethinking the whole, “Are you gay, Mr. Grey?” thing. DUH.
Then James makes Ana continuously note that Grey is being cryptic as shit…
- There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips and his eyes are alight with humor, as if he’s enjoying some private joke.
- He smiles, and again it’s like he’s privy to some big secret.
- “These will do,” he says with his oh-so-secret smile…
- “What is your thing, Anastasia?” he asks, his voice soft and his secret smile is back.
- He nods, gray eyes alive with wicked humor.
- His expression is impassive, but his words… it’s like he’s saying something else entirely. It’s baffling.
First of all, we get it. Stop treating your readers like 6 year olds. Jesus.
That being said, I wonder what the big secret could be?!! Especially since Seattle’s biggest hot-shot mogul just walked up in some dumpy home improvement store, looking for cable ties! Mysteries, mysteries.
And from a very tiny, under-used part of my brain—probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata where my subconscious dwells—comes the thought: he’s here to see you.
Bitch, stop lying. We all know you are talking about all of your brain.
Unrelated, yet completely related, when I hear medulla oblongata, I automatically think of Water Boy. Which in light of what I know about Ana and this awful trilogy, is pretty amusing.
Our fingers brush very briefly, and the current is there again, zapping through me like I’ve touched an exposed wire. I gasp involuntarily as I feel it, all the way down to somewhere dark and unexplored, deep in my belly. Desperately, I scrabble around for my equilibrium.
No, it really isn’t like that. Also, that “dark and unexplored, deep in your belly” feeling? That is your pubococcygeal (PC) muscle, or pelvic floor muscle. I know like zero about anatomy, and I’m 22, and yet somehow I still know that. Jesus. This isn’t some magical thing… how have you never discovered that there is a certain spot like two inches from A CERTAIN HOLE YOU HAVE DOWNSTAIRS??! Or literally RIGHT ABOVE “where pee-pee comes from” (Using terms Ana might understand). YOU’RE 22! GET A GRIP! OR A FUCKING HAND MIRROR!
Taking my Stanley knife from the back pocket of my jeans, I cut it then coil it neatly before tying it in a slipknot. By some miracle, I manage not to remove a finger with my knife.
“Oh, you know. The usual. The classics. British literature, mainly.”
He rubs his chin with his long index finger and thumb as he contemplates my answer.
Or perhaps he’s just very bored and trying to hide it.
Also, Anastasia, get some fucking self-esteem. I can’t handle 3 whole books of you constantly doubting yourself. OH WAIT.
I feel like I’ve come up for air—at last, a normal topic of conversation.
First of all, Christian only asked you to help him find cable ties, masking tape and some rope… you know, like, YOUR FUCKING JOB? You don’t understand innuendo, because that isn’t consistent with your character description, like you know, not understanding what the fuck sexual pleasure is.
Oh, Jesus… James just introduced a new, completely irrelevant male character, Paul, who is only there to remind us how magical Ana’s vagina is. Christian is so jealous.
When I glance up at Christian Grey, he’s watching us like a hawk, his gray eyes hooded and speculative, his mouth a hard impassive line. He’s changed from the weirdly attentive customer, to someone else—someone cold and distant.
“Paul, I’m with a customer. Someone you should meet,” I say, trying to defuse the antagonism I see in Grey’s eyes. I drag Paul over to meet him, and they weigh each other up. The atmosphere is arctic.
“Please, Anastasia.” His tongue caresses my name…
Maybe I am the crazy one, but this is the completely opposite of sexy-sounding to me. Way to make everything in this book sound so completely dirty and disgusting. I feel like I need to shower after reading that. And not in a good way.
Okay—I like him. There, I’ve admitted it to myself. I cannot hide from my feelings anymore. I’ve never felt like this before. I find him attractive, very attractive.
Sassy Gay Friend said it better than I could.
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