Christian POV: When Worlds Collide

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“This has to be it,” I say irritably, pulling up in front of 39 Berkley St. This house, unlike 39 Brewster St., is alive with lights and music. Definitely signs of a college party.

“Well look at that,” Elliot says with disbelief. “It does exist. I thought you’d lied to me, made it up to make yourself look cool enough to be invited to a party in your first week so you could impress your big brother.”

“Like I’d care about that,” I reply, rolling my eyes and killing the engine of my Audi.

“There are going to be girls here? I mean, I’m not about to walk into a room of twenty dudes talking about how great the bull market or whatever is, right?”

“Yes, there will be girls,” I tell him. “But after the Julia disaster last month, are you sure you really want to go there again?”

“Julia? Was that her name?” He asks, genuinely looking confused. I narrow my eyes at him, but he just laughs. “Sorry dude, I know it’s not your thing but some guys like to have sex with girls. Besides, I live thousands of miles away from here. Chances are, I’ll never see any of these girls again for the rest of my life.”

“You’re a prince,” I say sarcastically, and Elliot laughs. We climb out of the car and the second I close the door behind me, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Is that Anastasia? I pull it out and look down at the name flashing on the screen. No, it’s Elena. Why the fuck is she calling me now? She knows I’m with Elliot…

“Hey, give me your keys,” Elliot says.

“What?”

“Give me your keys. I’m not going to make a girl walk back to my hotel and it’s not like you’re going home with anyone. Your dorm is only a few blocks away.”

“Fine,” I tell him and toss my keys over the hood of the car. “I’ve got to take this call, I’ll be in in a minute.”

“What? We’re at a party, who is it?” Elliot asks.

“Ros,” I lie and he shakes his head.

“You really need to get a life, bro. And tell her that too.”

I roll my eyes again and turn away from him to answer Elena’s call. “Hello?”

“I’ve had a very stressful day,” she pouts, without any form of greeting.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” I tell her, wishing now Elliot hadn’t asked for my keys. I can tell by her tone this is going to be a long conversation and the late night air is a little too cold to be comfortable standing out on the curb for long.

“What are you wearing?” she asks.

“Jeans,” I tell her, realizing too late that my voice is a little too short. I hope it doesn’t piss her off.

“Jeans?” she scoffs. “That’s the best you can come up with? What are you doing right now?’

“I’m out with Elliot.”

“Really?” she says, and I can hear her disappointment. Thankfully I warned her ahead of time that I wouldn’t be available per our usual schedule this weekend and she accepted my reasoning, so she can’t be angry with me.

“Well,” she says after a pause. “I suppose you’ll just have to listen then.”

I put the phone against my jacket as I sigh and lean against the door of my car, and then bring it back up to my ear. “If it pleases you.”

“Oh it pleases me,” she purrs. “You know what else pleases me?”

I stand in the street for nearly an hour and twenty minutes, listening to her vivid descriptions of some of her favorite sessions with me in the playroom. She’s panting into the mouthpiece, mewling as she pleasures herself to her own fantasies, and as I listen to the erotic sounds through the phone, my pants become a little too tight around my groin. When she comes, my cock is so hard it’s actually painful, but I did as I was asked. I listened to her, encouraged her when required, responded when spoken to directly. She is satisfied and I know that I’ll be rewarded on her next visit to Cambridge.

“Mmm,” she moans as she comes down from her orgasm. “I really need to plan a trip out to see you. It’s just not the same without you here.”

“l’ll look forward to it,” I tell her, and she laughs, a low, breathy sound.

“Me too. Goodnight, Christian.”

“Goodnight.”

I hang up the phone and look down at the clock. Fuck, it’s nearly eleven. Anastasia probably thinks I’ve stood her up at this point. Well, hopefully she won’t be too pissed when I find her.

So what if she’s pissed, you’re not supposed to care, remember, Grey? A thought in the back of my mind reminds me.

Yeah, she’s just a girl in my building. A friend. I’m not beholden to her and she… she doesn’t belong to me. That thought brings back the uneasy feeling deep in my stomach but I push the feeling away as I take the walk up to the front door and let myself in.

It’s crowded inside as I work my way through dozens of people dancing in the cramped living room to some mindless, top 40 drivel. I can see Elliot walking around the crowd on the other side of the room, grasping tightly to the hand of some blonde whose face I can’t see, but I don’t see Anastasia anywhere. Everyone seems to be holding red plastic cups, so I assume there is a keg somewhere. Perhaps she’s getting a drink?

I tap the shoulder of a guy next to me, pressing himself against a tiny, dark haired girl. “Hey, where’s the keg?” I ask him.

“Kitchen,” he replies, not looking over at me. I mutter a half-hearted “thanks” and then work my way through the crowd towards the back of the house where I assume the kitchen is. The second I’m no longer surrounded by the throng of dancing students, I see her. She looks… damn. Her hair is straighter and looks slightly darker. She’s wearing tight black jeans that make her ass look absolutely fantastic and a top that leaves her back completely exposed. It’s easy from this angle to picture her standing there topless, and my mind immediately gifts me with image of her straddled over me, her breasts bouncing as I fuck her as hard as I can. The moment I’m able to look past how sexy she looks though, I frown. She’s talking with Rodriguez, draining the cup in her hand and then wobbling slightly when she’s finished. She’s drunk.

“Do you want to dance some more?” I hear Rodriguez ask as I begin walking towards them.

“Um… no,” Anastasia replies. “I think I need to sit down.”

She wobbles again but I’m able to grip her by her arms and hold her steady. “Come on, let’s get you outside for some fresh air,” I say.

She looks up at me in surprise but nods one she recognizes me. Before I’m able to steer her away though, Rodriguez reaches out and grips my arm to stop me.

“Hey! I’ve got it,” he says indignantly. “We were in the middle-” but I don’t stick around to find out what they were in the middle of. Frankly, I don’t really care. I don’t like the way he’s staring at my-uh, I mean, I don’t like the way he’s staring at Anastasia.

I steer her through the crowd back to the front door and once we’re out on the porch, she sits down on the top step and I join her.

“Are you alright?” I ask, noticing how flushed she looks. Even though we’re sitting, she still looks a little unbalanced.

“Yeah, thanks. It was getting kind of stuffy in there,” she replies, and as she takes a deep breath to center herself, a shiver rocks through her. The top she’s wearing, sexy as it may be, leaves most of her skin unprotected from the night air and I can see goose bumps rising on her arms. With a sigh, I pull of my jacket and wrap it around her. Does she ever wear a jacket?

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” I ask.

“A couple shots…” she says, hesitantly. “And… four beers, I think.”

It doesn’t take long for my mind to do the math. She weighs what, 115 or 120 pounds? The party started at eight and, even if she got here right when it started, that’s too much alcohol for that span of time. Especially if she hasn’t eaten…

“When did you last eat?” I ask.

“Umm… lunch,” she says, and I feel the heat of anger flair in my stomach.

“Do you know how dangerous it is for a person of your size to drink that much alcohol with no food in their stomach?” I ask, trying to reign in my temper. “There are people here trying to take advantage of drunk girls, Anastasia.” Especially drunk girls who look as delectable as you do tonight.

She glances down at her fingers, looking properly chastened, and as I stare at the delicate pout of her lips, the anger begins to recede. I reach around her again and rub her shoulders.

“Are you still cold?” I ask.

“No, your jacket is just what I needed,” she says, and she turns to smile at me. Damn, this girl is beautiful. I swallow hard, hoping to swallow my wayward thoughts as well. I can’t have her. Besides, what would she want with someone like me anyway? There’s no way she’s into anything remotely close to the things I am.

“When did you get here?” she asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“About an hour and a half ago. I just came inside to find you, I had to take a phone call. Elliot is in there somewhere. I’ve tried calling you for the past hour, you told me the party was on Brewster St. This is Berkley St.”

“Oh. I left my phone in my dorm,” she replies, flushing with embarrassment. Or maybe not. She looks like she’s going to speak again, but instead she closes her eyes and wobbles some more.

“Come on,” I tell her, standing on the bottom stair and reaching out for her. “Let’s get you home.”

“But Kate…” she protests.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. Rodriguez can help her home,” I tell her. He did look rather eager for female companionship tonight.

She nods and reaches out for my hand. Carefully, I lift her from the step, wrap her under my arm, and hold her steady as I lead her back to Grays Hall. As we walk across campus though, I hear her moan slightly and then reach out for my chest. Panic seizes me and I quickly reach out and grip her wrist to stop her.

“What are you doing?” I ask, the panic obvious in my voice.

“I-uh. I was just-” she stammers, but I cut her off.

“I don’t like to be touched,” I tell her, pushing her away from me as we climb the steps to the dormitory. Her face falls slightly as I lead her through the door but she seems to perk up a little when I take her hand. This isn’t a good sign. I shouldn’t be spending time with her like this. I’m giving her the wrong impression. Part of me, however, though I won’t admit it to myself, loves that she seems to be so elated by my touch.

I lead her up the stairs towards our rooms but we’re only halfway down the hall when we hear a loud, obvious noise coming from Ana’s room. Kavanagh seems to have made it home from the party and is in there fucking someone. I hope it’s Rodriguez.

“Do you want to come in and um… wait?” I ask Ana as I pull out my key and unlock my door. She nods and follows me into my room. I close the door and feel a guilty pang in the pit of my stomach that has come from years of Elena’s discipline. She shouldn’t be in here.  

I turn around and pull my jacket off her shoulders, again uncovering the silky skin of her back. I have to take a second to bring my body to heel as I turn around and hang the jacket on the hook by the door. She’s not yours, Grey. You cannot fuck her.

Taking a deep, steeling breath, I turn around and pull my phone, keys, and wallet out of my pockets and place them on the desk.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I tell her, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s staring at the pictures on my wall and bulletin board. Her eyes widen as she sits down on my bed and looks at the framed picture of Washington on the bedside table that Mia sent me yesterday. The sight of her on my bed is… arousing and without thinking, I cross the room to join her.

“You’re from Seattle?” she asks, finally turning to look at me.

“Yes.”

“I’m from Montesano,” she says, excitedly.

“I figured you must be from somewhere in Washington, having Katherine Kavanagh as a best friend. Her dad is a big name in the Seattle business world.”

“I know,” she says irritably, but as she moves, the light catches her hair and I’m mesmerized again by how beautiful she looks.

“Your hair is different,” I say, automatically reaching up and capturing a lock between my fingers.

“Kate straightened it,” she whispers, and I can hear a low, familiar, needy sound behind it. There are no warning thoughts in my mind as I pull the strand back and tuck it behind her ear, gently grazing her neck as I release her hair. Then, as if I’m controlled by some baser instinct rather than rational thought, I lunge forward and my lips crash against hers. She doesn’t stop me. She doesn’t turn her head or push away and when I brush my tongue against her bottom lip, she willingly opens her mouth for me. I moan and push her back on the bed, lying over the top of her as I claim her mouth.

Her fingers reach up into my hair, pulling gently, and I’m instantly hard. It feels so good, I don’t even think about restraining her hands. I’m vulnerable and for some reason, I don’t care. I can’t think of anything now except how badly I want to be inside the delectable Miss Steele, even if it’s the vanilla way. My hand slides down her sides and then under her top, but just as I’m about to reach my reward, my mind catches up to me and the image of a furious Elena brandishing her favorite cane flashes across my mind. I freeze instantly and then leap backwards off the bed.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…” I tell her, the agony of having to say these words more real than I could have imagined. “I shouldn’t have,” I continue when I see the look of hurt confusion on her face. “It was wrong… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Anastasia.”

“I’m fine, Christian,” she says, her eyes still filled with longing. “I wanted you to do that.”

“I know you did and I… but I just… can’t,” I stutter. My hands shoot up into my hair as I fight the urge to climb back into my bed, strip her naked, and lose myself in her, but I know better. I can’t have her, I belong to someone else. I need to get away from her, away from her look of pure desire. I need to get her scent off of me.

“Look,” I begin diplomatically. “I’m going to… take a shower. If Kate isn’t, uh… finished soon, you can stay here tonight. Elliot has a hotel room and I can stay with him.” That is whenever he kicks tonight’s conquest out.

“Okay,” Ana says, and I can hear that she’s close to tears. Fuck. She’s upset. Why wouldn’t she be? I took this way too far and now I’ve hurt her. Maybe I should… no, I won’t be able to stop myself again. I need to get away from her. I turn away from her and head into my bathroom, flipping on the light and the fan, closing the door behind me, and collapsing against it to regain my composure.

You’re a real piece of shit, Grey.

I walk over to the shower and turn it on all the way hot but get inside before the water has a chance to warm up. The cold does wonders to quench the lustful fire inside of me and my erection disappears. As the water grows hotter, my mind grows clearer. What the fuck was I thinking? It was wrong to bring her here. Christ, what did I expect was going to happen? At least no one knows she’s here. If Elliot saw her, I know Elena would eventually find out. Elliot has a big mouth and my mother is constantly pressuring him for information about me because she doesn’t think I’m open enough with her. Well thank God that bullet has been dodged. The most important thing now, besides finding a way to make this right with the girl I’ve just hurt on the other side of my bathroom door, is keeping this from Elena.

Nothing happened anyway. So I kissed her? Big deal! I cringe as I realize that, yes, that will be a big deal to Elena. But I won’t tell her and how could she possibly find out? Besides, I could have fucked her. She wanted me to fuck her, I wanted to fuck her, and I didn’t. I shouldn’t be punished, I should be rewarded.

I feel better with this new justification and turn around to shut the water off. Grabbing a towel off the bar next to the shower, I quickly dry off and then realize, in my haste to get away from Anastasia, I haven’t brought any clothes in with me. Well, maybe she was upset enough to leave. I listen for any sound coming from the room but can’t hear anything, although that might be because of the fan. It’s okay though, if she’s there I’ll just take some clothes out of my dresser, come back in here to get dressed, and then get on my computer and work on homework until she leaves.

Wrapping the towel tightly around my waist, I reach forward and open the door. The first thing I see is Anastasia and she’s standing in front of my desk with my phone in her hand. Fuck, what is she doing with my phone? There are text messages on there I’d really prefer she didn’t see…

“What are you doing? I ask, and her cheeks immediately flush with guilt. Fuck, that’s not good.

“Um… you got a call. Several calls actually. Mrs. Lincoln wants you to call her back immediately,” she says.

I freeze as I think I feel the blood in my veins go cold. Elena called me and Anastasia answered it. Elena knows she’s here. I cross the room and rip the blackberry out of her hands. I go to the call log and sure enough I see two missed calls from Mrs. Lincoln and one 17 second conversation. The fear morphs into anger then. Why the fuck would she answer my phone?

“You answered my phone?” I ask, turning my furious gaze on her. “Why would you do that?”

“She kept calling, I was worried there was an emergency,” she replies defensively.

           “That is none of your concern, Anastasia,” I growl back at her. She’s cowering away from me and I know that I need to quell my temper but I can’t. I know what’s coming, all of my hard work keeping Elena pleased my first week away, down the drain. At this point, I may as well have fucked her, Elena won’t believe I didn’t anyway, and I’ll be punished for it.

“I’m sorr-” she begins, but I’m too angry now to hear her apologies.

“Get out,” I say, trying to keep myself from shouting.

“Christian?” she tries again, but I’m past my breaking point now.

“Anastasia, get the fuck out!” I scream, turning to the door and throwing it open for her. She takes a sharp intake of breath and then hurries forward, but before I can slam the door behind her, the door to her dorm opens and Elliot comes out, attached at the face to Kavanagh.

“What’s going on out here?” Elliot asks, the satisfied smile of someone who’s just had amazing sex stretched across his face. I don’t reply, I slam the door closed and do everything I can to keep myself from hurling my blackberry against the wall. I have to call her. It’ll be worse if I don’t call her.

After taking another calming breath, I pull the towel off my waist and get dressed, rehearsing to myself what I’m going to tell her. When I think I’ve calmed down enough to face Elena’s wrath, I pull out the chair at my desk and dial her number.

“Hello, Christian,” she answers, and I can already hear the controlled anger in her voice.

“Look, it’s not what you think…” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“Not what I think?” she laughs. “How stupid do you think I am Christian? How many girls have you been fucking since I let you out of my sight.”

“Elena, please, nothing happened.”

“Then tell me, Christian, what other explanation would you have for having a girl in your room at midnight?

“She lives across the hall from me, Elliot was fucking her roommate. She needed a place to wait it out.”

“Elliot? You’re putting this on Elliot?”

“It’s true, I swear to God. Call him and ask him if you want. I’m sure he’d love to brag about his latest conquest.”

“So Elliot fucked the roommate. What about you? You invited her into your room, late at night, and just, what? Talked about the weather?”

“I was doing homework,” I lie.

“She said you were in the shower,” Elena replies. “Probably washing her come off of you, weren’t you?”

“No!” I tell her defensively. “It’s late. I knew Elliot would be finished soon and she would leave. I always take a shower before I go to bed.”

“Cut the shit, Christian. I know you fucked her and I’m not interested in your lies. To think, I was calling you tonight to tell you I’d planned a trip out to see you and instead, I find out about your betrayal.”

“I swear, Elena. I didn’t fuck her. Why would I want anyone else?”

“Is she pretty?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Christian Grey! Anastasia Steele! Is she pretty?”

Gorgeous. “I don’t know, I haven’t really paid much attention,” I lie.

“Her name sounds like a porn star,” she snipes, and it takes every ounce of restraint I possess to stop myself from defending her.

“I guess,” I say instead, trying to sound disinterested. “Please tell me you’ll still come. I need to see you, Elena. You know I need to see you.”

“Oh don’t worry, Christian,” she sneers. “I’ll be coming to Cambridge soon, but when I do see you, it will be for my pleasure and not for yours. In the meantime, you are not to speak with that girl again. You are not to have her, or anyone else in your room. I never want to hear you say her name again. Do not underestimate how angry I am with you right now, Christian Grey. You’ve never deserved a punishment as severe as you do now.”

I cringe but don’t say anymore. I know now any further argument will just lead to additional lashes.

“If it pleases you,” I tell her.

She laughs again, softly, but there is no humor behind it. “Goodnight, Christian.”

“Goodnight,” I tell her, and the phone goes dead.

I curse quietly under my breath as Elliot knocks gently on my door.

Next Chapter

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