[disclaimer: I don’t own any of the gifs/images used in this post (or any other for that matter). If you see a gif that you created and would either like credit for it or would like it taken down, please let me know.]
I watch José open the bottle of champagne. He’s tall, and in his jeans and t-shirt he’s all shoulders and muscles, tanned skin, dark hair and burning dark eyes. Yes, José’s pretty hot, but I think he’s finally getting the message: we’re just friends.
You know what else would help him get the message? ACTUAL COMMUNICATION. FROM BOTH OF YOU. If he likes you, HE SHOULD TELL YOU, and if you don’t like him back, YOU SHOULD TELL HIM.
I know it’s uncomfortable, but knowing someone is pining after you and trying to get in your pants is WAY WORSE.
All you have to do is say “Hey, José, I’ve been getting some weird vibes lately, and it seems like you’re flirting with me, and I just want to make sure you know that I don’t feel that way about you, and I only see you as a friend and I don’t want to lead you on. I hope this doesn’t affect our friendship, but I understand if you need some time to process this.”
And then you guys DISCUSS THINGS. LIKE YOUR FEELINGS. And if he’s a good friend and a good dude he won’t try and guilt you for not liking him back, and you’ll still be friends afterwards. And if he doesn’t want to be friends just because you don’t like him, then you don’t want him as your friend anyway.
Also it’s official: there isn’t a single person that Ana’s met so far that she hasn’t been attracted to. Although José is the first one she’s described as “hot,” so I don’t know what that means.
Then suddenly it’s the next day, and Ana’s at work, and I really hope something interesting happens because if we just spend another chapter following Ana’s boring life I just might pass out from the sheer volume of my rage.
Then, for some reason, I glance up…and find myself locked in the bold gray gaze of Christian Grey who’s standing at the counter, staring at me intently.
WOW I’M ACTUALLY SORT OF EXCITED, SOMETHING MIGHT ACTUALLY HAPPEN FOR ONCE IN THIS BOOK, THERE’S ACTUALLY POTENTIAL FOR TENSION AND DRAMA.
I might cry, this is too much, I honestly didn’t expect anything out of this chapter other than tears of boredom.
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?
Christian literally just sounds like a model in a department store ad.
Like this guy:
So now I’m just picturing Christian Grey canoeing from Seattle to Vancouver…it makes this whole ordeal a little better, honestly.
“I was in the area,” he says by way of explanation. “I need to stock up on a few things. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Steele.” His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel…or something.
WOW because THAT wasn’t the most clichéd description I’ve ever read.
AND THEN YOU NEGATE THE WHOLE THING BY SAYING “…or something.”
OWN YOUR DESCRIPTIONS. BE THE DESCRIPTIONS. FEEL THEM. LICK THEM. DATE THEM. BE THEM.
I get it, you’re trying to make Ana’s voice sound more relaxed and conversational.
Heads up! It’s not working. It sounds forced and uncomfortable, and I think you were trying to exaggerate there to make it funny, but it’s funny for an entirely different reason.
[that reason is that you can’t write]
I shake my head to gather my wits. My heart is pounding a frantic tattoo, and for some reason I’m blushing furiously under his steady scrutiny. I am utterly thrown by the sight of him standing before me.
WE GET IT
YOU WEREN’T EXPECTING TO SEE HIM THERE.
LET’S MOVE ON.
[also, Blush Count: 3 now, I think]
He’s not merely good-looking – he’s the epitome of male beauty, breathtaking, and he’s here. Here in Clayton’s Hardware Store. Go figure.
The epitome of male beauty? Seriously? What a lame cop-out for an actual description. This whole series is just one long, gross wet-dream and I want to vomit. I literally almost pulled a muscle from rolling my eyes at that “epitome of male beauty” bullshit.
He smiles, and again it’s like he’s privy to some big secret. It is so disconcerting.
The big secret is his boner.
“There are a few items I need. To start with, I’d like some cable ties,” he murmurs, his gray eyes cool but amused.
IT’S FOR BONDAGE, DUMBASS.
Why is he here at Clayton’s? And from a very tiny, underused 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. No way! I dismiss it immediately. Why would this beautiful, powerful, urbane man want to see me? The idea is preposterous, and I kick it out of my head.
IF I DRANK EVERY TIME YOU WERE STUPID, ANASTASIA, I WOULD BE DEAD.
If I drank every time E.L. James was bad at writing, I would be dead 3 times.
Ugh she’s doing that thing where she asks the question that she wants us, the readers, to be thinking, when we were ALREADY THINKING IT, because we aren’t idiots like she seems to think we are.
And then, it’s OBVIOUS that Christian is there to see Ana, SO WHY ARE YOU WASTING OUR TIME HAVING ANA TELL US THAT THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE.
This whole thing is infuriating.