DIALING MR GREY

Logic was always going to blur when drunk and your thumb hovering over the call button to your ex. OOC, AU. HEA. 'Prompt Challenge Story.'

Characters: Christian Grey, Anastasia Steele.

DISCLAIMER: Characters from the Fifty Shades Trilogy belong to EL James.

…..

NOTES:

WRITING CHALLENGE [FSOG and More, Facebook Group]. Dialogue Prompt: "I remember kissing you. Why do I remember kissing you?"

This occurs almost three years after the belt incident at the end of FSOG. In this AU, Ana and Christian never get back together and move on with their lives… so they think. It is a HEA story, I swear.

…..

The green bottle clinked onto my ceramic mug. This was the one with the chip on the handle and a crack threatening to break the thing in half. The text, bold and straight to the point, 'Life is short & so am I.' It was my notice, an undeniable reminder. No matter how far you've come, breakups will not faze you, only your height. I snorted at the unusual sentiment.

The shellfish is your world, or the oyster… essentially whatever the proverb means. Rubbing my forehead, at the cataclysmic shit storm which has transpired today.

All I need is copious amounts of wine, some coin in my account, a nice but not too formal wardrobe update, and new employment to round it off.

When did life become a chore rather than enjoyment? That's right, my height. Hang on, what? Oh God, just have another drink, Ana.

So, as most evenings, I drank the whole mug of Vino in one breath. No buttery velvet liquid sloshing down my gullet, but rather an acidic burn of tannic vinegar. The bottle was cheap but it was all my debit card would allow. I strained my teeth, pursing my lips as the burgundy red liquid dribbled down my chin and in no time I lapped up every last drop with my tongue.

Sooo effective. Sooo drunk.

The room spun like the washer when I eventually do laundry. My head wobbled to the thought as my body was clearly not synchronising as one. All I could hope was my body will give way to the intense weight and collapse on the bed.

"Please hold together a little longer Ana." I slurred every word. Unsure if I was referring to my rickety bed or the state of my dismal life but continued to drink.

Still dressed in my shift, a tight black, a short getup foregoing any modesty in the past to resemble my uniform of sorts. It clung to my body, like a second skin and needing removal. We were experiencing unusual humidity this time of year, and it was sticky.

Now horizontal, I skimmed my body, from waist to curve, ending at my aching feet. My poor tootsies had been torturously forced into the half size too small footwear. Which might I add should be illegal but as always I soldiered through. The dress stayed, only the heels went before twisting the Vino cap. Speaking of Vino, the bottle was close to empty, only bitter remnants remained at the bottom of the vessel.

This wasn't the first time I've ended work with a bottle in hand. Cracking the lid open before any fast food worker could add, 'would you like fries with that?'

Fries, I am a little hungry… No I need to get back to the current task at hand. Wine. But today hit me particularly hard. So I couldn't help but drown my sad ass with cheap alcohol. There were reasons. Ok on a serious note it was only one.

Christian…

It had been almost three years, and I was still in love… no, no, no impossible as I thought about that man. Love isn't even in the equation, where's my wine.

I forced myself up. Of course in reality stumbling toward my dresser, tripping over my dirty laundry, which is strategically placed all over my floor. My contortionist skills, utterly shaky, let's face it, drunken fingers unzipped the black dress, peeling it away from my skin. My balance was less than desirable especially on one leg, and who ever thought a helicopter onesie would be good is a fool. Onesies are a challenge for any sober day, oh God.

Falling to my knees, crawling under my bed, I yanked out my old college drawstring backpack. Fingers fumbling with the knot, the fingertips turning a shade of pink to white as the string pinched my skin. After a one-sided fight, I finally ripped it open. I sifted through dozens of irrelevant objects. An old diary, my tattered copy of Tess of the D'urbervilles with annotations and a rainbow of sticky notes flapping from the edges, and a handful of pressed dried white roses. It was the foil helicopter balloon and a newspaper clipping now yellowed from time and neglect which was breaking my heart all over again.

Christian…

Post break-up, that first week was a lifetime ago but still fresh in my mind. I lost a ridiculous amount of weight, and at the time my first job as a graduate was an after thought. How I didn't get fired on my first day was an achievement in itself. Words drifted in and out, 'you love him, so of course it's going to hurt. Overcome and depart.'

The smell of cloves and sweetened fruit engulfed my memory. Of course the man had to sent me roses, one dozen didn't suffice, rather three. The shade of marriage and new starts a creamy white. Just the sight of my dried arrangement irks me. Asshole.

I can only assume it was him. Or was it the underlying premise completed by his assistant or one of the abundant blonde minions within GEH. How could he fathom an exuberant bouquet would soothe my broken heart (and bruised ass)? No, it shattered further. Each fragment slicing deeper, ironically the thorns pierced my fingers just to add a twist to the whole situation. I was young, naïve, broken and bleeding!

Jack Hyde, my volatile boss, didn't make those first few weeks drag, that's for sure and when he tried to… well his balls got what was coming. It wasn't a difficult decision to leave, I was blind sided at SIP, with my whole life as my new start remained to be seen.

So, back to my mug, I'm referring to the quote not the actual mug, 'Life is short & so am I.'

New employment was a cinch. The hitch was achieving a decent pay check, now that was an entirely separate ball game, possibly under miscellaneous. Book stores, temporary secretarial work and phone marketing positions came as fast as they went. My eyes locked onto my black dress, I can't believe I'm going to say this. It's this current position that won me over. Discrete, late and better pay than the majority of work I'd had in the last year. Far from dream pay, and far from the overall goal, marking pages with a red pen as an editor. Anyways, who uses their graduate education in the twenty-first century?

Probably most Ana, don't sugar coat your downfall.

With jobs easy to find and my bank account now positive, it was painstakingly difficult telling my best-friend Kate, I was moving out. I needed to be as far away from reminders as possible. GEH, Escala, and Bellevue. I didn't want to give Elliot, who had the ability to fish for information and give anything to Christian. I needed out. Unfortunately my distance from the whole situation managed a few miles out of Seattle. Of course all due to my savings account (or lack of), but in the end it was going to be the best fresh start I had.

To say I haven't seen Christian since, is a complete lie. It's not like I stalked his apartment building or even workplace. Dignity is crucial to survive this cruel world of breakups and mishaps. When I had an abundance of thoughts of him plaguing my mind, my usual go-to websites like TMZ, pap paradise and Google alerts were blocked with one click. The usual online stalking hypothesis of Facebook or even an Instagram were redundant. Thankfully his face wasn't a favourite for the evening news, mostly business magazines held that accolade. Conveniently I signed up for several subscriptions every month, posted straight to my door. But tonight was my tipping point as the paps were flash crazy, so the search has been far from unnecessary.

"I don't do the girlfriend thing," his statement crossed my mind, but it's crystal clear when TMZ have a zoomed close-up of his hand holding another. A petite brunette woman.

Reminders are a pain in the ass, but helpful. It is hard to forgive and let go, but it's important to remember that harbouring the resentment by holding a grudge can hurt you even more. So you get to decide how to put yourself back together again. But damn, it was my choice to leave… I chose… to be away from him. Fuck, putting myself back together because of resentment… I want him to endure the pain that he has avoided over all these years. And it's sooo obvious he's moved on, where I'm clinging onto a foil helicopter and dried roses.

I clearly chose not to say goodbye, but on the contrary neither did he. Why didn't he say a proper goodbye? I know our time was short, but… but.

Gaah I need more Vino. A lot more Vino.

Padding towards the kitchen on my mission to find alcoholic fluids, I had to walk past my roommate's bedroom. Thankfully the door was shut (hopefully locked) and from what I could survey nothing creepy. Lucas is the epitome of freaky, I shiver at the thought.

"Vino. Check." I marked out the air with my finger. "Left over pizza…" I opened the box, to discover only one slice remaining. "LUCAS!"

Pounding the floorboards I stormed to his door, my fist balled tight, his deep throaty voice mumbles inside.

"She's consuming alcohol, again…" Who the hell is he talking too? "Hair in messy bun…" I quickly touched my hair. It's not messy, it's teased I think to myself, shoving the remaining piece of pizza into my mouth, "unsustainable highly processed fast-food diet…" I spit the piece into the box as if it were poison.

That's it! How dare he. Jesus, was he speaking into a dictaphone or somehow annotating my life. Oh God this is so creepy, I tip toed to his door.

You'll be fine, just don't drop the Vino, the pizza will be fine. Remember ten seconds rule.

Bypassing the knock, I flung his door open. He was in his usual black T-shirt and dark denim, my eyes had a mind of their own drifting to the floor, instant locked at his feet. They were bare again, quickly gulping back my thick saliva.

As keeping to routine, he cleared his throat, hooking his brow as if I had interrupted something important. Yeah the importance of discussing my life to a complete stranger.

"Sir, I'll need to call you back…" He ended his call, occasionally staring at his screens at his desk.

"Don't mind me Lucas," I placed my free hand on my hip, my right armpit clenching the Vino tight. "But the pizza was mine. Clearly you had first pickings." I pointed to the half bitten slice and the crusts remaining. "Also who in their right mind would want three screens in their room… you're a creeper L."

And as quick as I entered I exited, slamming his door. Not one word was directed to me. Of course as he was hiding in his room again, and no matter the confrontation we just had, the mumbling continued.

"These walls aren't soundproofed you know asshole." I huffed.

Whatever!

Storming back to my bedroom with a pizza box in one hand and the bottle wedged in my pit, I slammed my door for good measure, hoping to make a point. Again no argument, one liner, or repulsive feud from my roommate. It was annoying to say the least. Kate, the three years we lived together, somewhat had the decency to shout vulgar opinions at me once in a while.

Back on my bed, cracking open my second bottle of Vino and munching on the remaining cold pizza, I stopped to look at my reflection. Huddled on the bed I caught sight of my runny mascara, and yes a messy bun. Damn it, Lucas. The heavy eye make-up brought out my blue eyes just as my snow white skin accentuated my deep brunette hair. Despite the hot mess I was deep in, the alcohol had probably given me a false sense of reality. I couldn't look this terrible, right? It had to be the drunken haze.

What would you think of me now, Christian?

Would he even recognise me? Some days I don't recognise myself. I had my ideas about how Christian might have turned out, being 30, probably a mega asshole with bucks to wipe his ass with, and… this mystery woman. Without a doubt one of many line up girlfriends every Friday night… oh maybe she's his secret wife.

The naïve girl in me imagined him happy. The very idea he's thought of me was a fantasy. My merit disregarded and placed in a filing cabinet with the key lost or worse through a shredder.

Days, weeks… ok the whole God damn time I've been obsessed with my image of Christian, unable to understand why I never mattered. Evidently my mind had too much time on its hands. Somehow all his happiness I foresaw was a reflection of my own unhappiness, despite my confusion over these feelings for Christian. Rather tonight in my drunken fog, I was angry. Pissed really. I wanted to talk to him. And no one sane was here to talk me out of it; even if Lucas did, I would be shocked that he knew how to speak to a woman. I only had myself convinced and with the amount of Vino in these veins, why stop myself?

This was my chance. I stared at my phone in my palm. Calling him. Tonight. Hey this seems more and more like a brilliant notion by the second. What could go wrong?

Nothing. Ok more Vino.

Opening my ancient laptop and clicking on Google, I stupidly searched Christian Grey. Why in my right mind would he have his number listed? But my old diary had some interesting entries in them, and I hope I didn't tear out my currently prized possession.

A number.

The month of May,all those years ago… a business card with his personal details, including the number.

Flicking the pages… it was there, white thick card stock, the corners curling and slightly yellowing from the number of times I stroked it.

I'm onto you Grey. I snickered.

Shit, would his number be the same?

Vino Ana.

Would he remember me? Of course I'm sure there still is a file with my signed NDA. Of course never forgotten. But doubt seeped in… fuck it.

Unable to talk my inebriated self down, I needed to lay it down, tell him the ins and outs, tell him off. It's not every day you get to reprimand a billionaire. He needed to know how he fucked up exactly… how my heart remained a mess.

I dialed the number and listened to the ringing.

It rang and rang. And I quickly hung up. My heart pounded, I dropped the phone onto my bed and I guzzled down as much Vino as I could.

Suddenly there was a banging on my door.

"Fuck off Lucas!" I kindly replied as he knocked again. "I'm trying to get my love of drunkenness on my tastebuds to a level so I can satisfy my subconscious… I'm numbing my soul from the past and bringing it to the present. Hoping somehow I can have a future, Lucas. So please fuck off!" I whined, gurgling on the red liquid between breaths.

A few mumbled words were spoken between the inch think wooden doors and his heavy feet left the proximity of my door.

Take two, Mr Grey. That first call was a mishap, caught off guard. I'm more focused now, my mind and not my sight.

My thumb hovered over the call button… now or never.

It was only a half ring and a click of the line connected, a heavy breath escaped on the other line. "Grey."

It was him. Of course it was him, as my eyes drifted back to his business card. My heartbeat accelerated and palms grew sweaty. It wasn't clear if it was the Vino or the hoarse male voice on the line.

Trying to remain anonymous, I whispered, "Christian?"

"How did you get this number? The connection is unlisted, who is this?" His voice accented. It was the sound of an angry man… the anger I remembered.

He did keep this number, but not mine.

Don't cry Ana, you are better than this. But why did I have exuberant expectations.

"I doubt the presence of a single memory of me exists. Or is it locked away in that stormy gray mind of yours?" I blurted out, quickly reaching for another mouthful of liquid courage.

"Excuse me? I hate repeating myself, I demand to know who is this." His words blew into the phone like a violent storm.

Alcohol seemed like the best mode of action, but I was stalling, hesitating for what needed to be said. Sighing, I couldn't believe I doubted my thoughts of Mr Vino, as I swirled the bottle. It was time to drink away the situation.

Falling back onto my bed staring at the ceiling, counting the cobwebs which needing removal, a task for next week. Taking a much needed breather, I let it all go. The pain of all these years weighing down my ability to truly move on. The words were like verbal vomit, unable to stop, utterly harsh and slightly unpleasant.

"Oh, you…" my finger pointed, stabbing the air as if he were in the room with me. "Asshole, yyyou, need to understand, everyone has feelings. Feelings are these tiny things brew into larger things, occurrence happenings. Fucking life!… I mean why couldn't you express yours in words or let me touch you." I sniffed rubbing the cuff of my onesie over my wet nose. It was a challenge but I needed to hold back the tears.

"Anastasia?"

The sound of my name lingered in my mind. Never did I think he would say it, but instantly this man sent a flood of memories floating throughout my body.

The breath hit the back of my throat winding my pride, "You do remember me… even though I was just a naïve submissive from your long ongoing list."

"Excuse me? Are you aware to whom you are speaking."

"Jesus," I mumbled, "Maybe I was only the virgin fuck. The weak innocent girl. But I mattered," tapping my chest, "Not only that, I loved you. I looked forward to our future. For fuck sakes I still have Charlie Tango." My eyes fixated on the vert foil helicopter, gnawing the inside of my cheek.

"I think that's highly impossible—" I cut him off, laughing at his sentiment.

"Thhhe ballooooon," drawling my words hoping he got the image, "It was the thoughtful gift you gave me, when—"

"Anastasia."

His voice changed, distant, a hint of a whisper, was this remorse?

"Ever wondered what happpppened to me? Well I-I-I moved and I worked my ass off. I remember kissing you… why do I remember kissing you?" It was only a matter of time before the dam burst, so wiping away bodily fluids was my only option.

He paused, his breathing was calm and steady. Ultimately my mind intoxicated, flurried with thoughts. Was the raging bull only scuffing his hooves awaiting for the final sprint?

His verbatim restrained, but I'm positive he said, "Because it meant something."

I deride, "Maybe to me, but to you, big business man, I was a notch on your belt." I winced at that the thought, "Do you remember that belt. Sadly beyond that point, I have never been the same since."

With tears streaming down my cheeks and no words left, I hung up and threw the phone across my bed.

Wine, drink, fuck him. Fuck Ghristian Crey. I mean Christian Grey! God damn it.

And then it sank in.

Oh shit… I verbal harassed Ghrist-Christian Grey.

My mental list went into overdrive. Did I actually speak with… well rather to Christian Grey? A tense feeling cursed my chest as my breathing accelerated. This is not good. No, no, no… not good.

In my faze of pain, anxiety… possibly a breakdown, I rock myself back and forth, sipping on the Vino bottle… the phone began to ring. Clutching my knees to my chest, outlining the helicopters of my pyjamas, I simply stared, because who knows there is a huge possibility a bomb will explode upon answering.

No. Fuck that. I won't answer. There's no reason to extend my moment of foolishness, dealing with Mr Grey.

It seemed it never want to give up vibrating. Once silenced, I let out the breath I was holding, relieved. Of course that was short lived and it started up again, making circling patterns, dancing to my ringtone. Note, which I need to update.

I still didn't answer. I willed my phone to die like a spider doused in foamy bug spray.

Come on you can do it, you're a Nokia. I know your reputation is to never fail… now is the time. Die. I chanted, and to my amusement it stopped—for about five minutes.

Annnd, it started ringing again.

Shit shit shit.

I finally lifted the phone and looked at the number… Rolling my eyes; of course it was Christian's.

Preparing to answer, I cleared my wine coated throat, took a much needed breath and answered.

It was my best ever to sound like a composed woman, "Hello?"

A moment of silence passed, until he finally muttered, "Me too."

His voice was different, deeper, huskier but truly surreal. I couldn't answer, as an unrecognisable lump blocked my windpipe. Grabbing the Vino, it was my only answer, the mouthful of courage and torment it seems.

He let out a breath, "It's been close to three years and you chose tonight?"

"Look… just forget I ever called, okay? Go back to doing what or whom ever you were doing. Pretend this never happened." I was about to hang up when his voice stopped me.

"Wait." his voice had a hint of desperation.

I said nothing.

"Ana are you still there?" he asked.

My voice was low. "Yes Christian." I rolled my eyes, and my thighs clenched at my rude gesture.

"I'm supposed to forget this phone call ever happened?"

"Sure. Just like you forgot how we never happened."

"What are you talking about?"

"Us Christian…" I yelled.

Anger seeped in his voice, "Ana…I tried calling. Did you receive my flowers?"

"Yes, almost three years ago," I hastily replied.

"Look. The bottom line is, I never meant to not say goodbye to you. I didn't want a goodbye, goodbyes seem… permanent."

Was he serious? He couldn't possibly be serious.

I didn't know what to make of this. So he wanted me to leave or was he upset… God I really didn't know. Either way, I felt like a complete idiot and needed Vino.

"This was a huge mistake. There's no point in rehashing the past—"

"What made you call me tonight Ana?"

"I am… drunk." I giggled.

Cursing myself for doing so, I slapped my hand, hoping he didn't get the whole drunk thing.

"You drunk dialed me?"

Pausing a little too long, I had dug myself a hole. "Yes," my voice squeaked.

"You're still drunk?"

"Unfortunately, this pitiful Vino is trying its best to filter through my body. I guess I've never been efficient or obedient." the room spun as I spoke.

"How did you even get my number?"

Was it going to be the twenty questions, okay, "My old Diary. I had your business card you gave me when I was working at—"

"Claytons." he finished my sentence.

I stopped with my mouth wide. He remembered where I worked? The next statement puzzled me. Maybe it was the wine, but there was a strong possibility it was Christian at his finest.

"It's a Wednesday night."

"Yeah hump night of all evenings." my eyes bugged out, I actually said that aloud. "It's not like it's a school night."

"But drunk during the week, not your style Miss Steele."

"There are too many answers to that question. I have my reasons, so how much time do you have? Let's see. I got groped at work again. I'm close to broke… see I have this Vino habit. My car is sitting in the shop, for a month now. I know what you're thinking. My mode of transport has always been unreliable, and apparently some things never change. Oh how could I forget, my roommate is a one hundred percent creeper. The planning has occurred, so I'm sure he only needs to execute the kidnapping as we speak. What about you?"

In no time he shrieked, "Excuse me? I preferred it when you lived with Kavanagh?"

"Her name is Kate, Christian. When was the last time you spoke to your brother? Kate and Elliot live together. They're married."

"That's none of your concern."

He doesn't speak with his brother?

"Of course you don't… So are you ready to hang up now, Christian?"

"I'm afraid not."

"What! Don't you have anything better to do? What were you doing when I called you?"

"I was admiring the view out on my balcony," Oh yes, Escala. The myriad of memories I had there. "My place overlooks Puget Sound."

He bought a house… a home… what with that woman?

"No Escala," I shook my head, forgetting he can't see me, "But that was your prison in the sky."

"Anastasia," he scolded, "I moved more than two years ago. It was a property I had purchased with someone special in mind but they slipped out of my grasp some time ago."

"I bet," I snorted.

"So was I on your list of unsuspecting victims, or only me?"

"Actually, this is a first." And I bit my lip and then I couldn't hold in my laugh. Soon enough his deep laughter followed and the mood lightened immediately.

There was a muffled voice on his end, but he continued to speak, "You stated you got groped. I'm assuming you're no longer in publishing."

"I'm not a hooker if that's what your thinking. And you maybe pleasantly surprised that groping occurs in publishing. Currently I work in…" I looked at my nearing empty bottle, "hospitality, bar work." I added. He doesn't need to know the precise employment.

"Where the opposite sex, men to be precise, can ogle you?"

"Christian, you can't speak like that… of course they ogle me. So what, one got a tad too close for comfort yadda, yadda, blah, blah." I tried to brush it off.

"Apparently." He snorted, and that simple sound painted a smirk over my lips. "Ana, your voice is a breath of fresh air."

"Well, your voice is a little different, raspier." I couldn't put my finger on it. Christian's voice was always deep, but it had a crackle, and undeniable roughness to it now.

"Charlie Tango."

"Oh. Sorry you've lost me, hang on." I reached for the bottle and consuming the remaining mouthfuls. Well I didn't want to oxidise too much, it's bitter enough. "Better, go ahead."

"I had a crash a few years ago. Unfortunately the toxic smoke damaged my voice-box."

I continued sipping at the bottle, "Oh," I said with a mouthful of Vino. I remember a few weeks after leaving, his helicopter crash was all over the news. He was lucky to be alive, of course due to his quick thinking.

"I'm not the only one who sounds peculiar."

"Is there anything to explain other than alcohol." I giggled, licking the juices from my lips. "Anyway, I'd better let you go."

A huge belch escaped, as I quickly cupped my mouth and an acidic burn fizzed through my nose. Gross.

"Ana, please don't hang up again…one more question." He said. "Your roommate: what gives you the impression he's a creeper?"

"How much time do you have Grey?" I swear I heard him mumble something, but I couldn't be for certain, "His name is Lucas. Lucas Sawyer to be specific, for all intense purposes. I had put an ad in the classifieds for a roommate, all expenses included. No one had responded to my ad for close to a month until out of the blue, Lucas. At the time I saw him as my knight… saving me from eviction. Fast forward to the present. He doesn't speak with me, at times he speaks of me, but mostly mutters things under his breath. I get the feeling he's obsessed with me. I swear there must be a million sound files and written documents on me. He does this bat shit crazy stuff, but it seems like a chore, but he's always doing it." I sighed, "He's obsessed, and hates me."fFalling back on my bed, my body bouncing on the mattress.

"Honestly Ana, are you paranoid? This doesn't make one bit of sense. On a side note he's not naked around the apartment. It doesn't make sense, no. But neither do you." he laughed. "He's not on the lease, so remove him."

"Hang on, and how do you know this?"

"Assumptions of course."

"Yeah… assumptions." I rolled my eyes.

"So, why don't you evict him if you feel unsafe in your home?"

"Because… he's totally going to kidnap me," I held the phone up to my lips, "or worse chop me up into little pieces, fucking kill me."

"Let me understand the situation. So on one part, you're afraid to live under the same roof, but on another, you're too scared to kick him out?"

"I'm not scared shitless… ok at times, I'm concerned, freaked out a little," I ran my fingers through my hair, ending at my messy bun. Oh God it felt filthy, "Christian I'm more afraid to kick him out. Jesus he's 6'2" at least and triple my weight. I'm just holding my ground since he hasn't tried anything… yet."

It was the sound of his belly laugh which I needed time to process. This was a different Christian, an unseen Christian. He was genuinely a human.

"And what's so hilarious Mister?" not wanting to push him too far, I don't want the whiplash of emotions.

"You. You're amusing. Quite comical, OK hilarious. In fact, I can't remember the last time I laughed like this." he spoke under his breath, "Well Miss Steele, this is an interesting revelation."

His voice froze, as I heard another voice.

Clearly a woman's voice called out, "Christian? What are you doing?" She seemed refined, well spoken.

Instantly replying, "You know I needed to take this call, I'll be back shortly."

Everything came flooding back. My anger towards him, our past, his past, the picture of him holding hands with that mystery woman.

"Who's the woman? Oh God you're married."

"No." he curtly replied.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

"No. I don't do the girlfriend thing."

"Then, who is it?"

"Her name is…"

"You don't know or do you want to withhold the information. Remember I did sign an NDA."

"Which is nil and void." He paused again, "Her name is Leila, we have known each other for quite sometime."

"Leila?"

Clearly I'd interrupted some kind of meeting. Crossing my fingers, hoping not for the worse, but in the back of my mind the thought niggled. Could she be his submissive, since he had already knocked down my suggestions.

"Well, I'll let you get back to… Leila." I hissed her name, not one bit impressed.

His tone was urgent. "Don't hang up."

"I'm pretty sure you're busy."

"No, I'm not. She went back to her room anyway. All prying ears are away."

"Well, you don't want to make her wait."

"She can wait."

"I'd better go."

"Ana, don't hang up again. Will you drunk dial me again? I'm not done with… you."

"Goodnight, Mr Grey."

But I was done with him, and pressed end call.

My heart was pounding. The whole thing seemed surreal. Did that actually happen?

I couldn't sleep that night. All I could think about was this image of Christian in his long pyjama bottoms, looking out to the water. I fantasized about the ocean air as I wondered about what he actually looked like now. Were there wrinkles, sun spots, blemishes?

.~*~.~*~.~*~.

My head pounded, as my phone vibrated, digging a hole into my side table.

"Hello?" I groaned, not even checking the number.

"I believe we ended on a unsatisfactory note." My ears pricked hearing that husky deep voice. Christian.

"Christian, why are you calling me right now?" I questioned.

"I guess your reason. Curiosity. Except no excessive alcohol involved."

The embarrassment for my behaviour last night hasn't waned. "Well, I'm kind of in a rush right now…" I flopped my head on my comfortable pillow, knowing I'm not moving for a few hours. Firstly I needed this hangover to piss off.

"I don't believe you, you were always a terrible liar Miss Steele."

Groaning into the pillow, why does he need to catch on so damn quickly.

"Well I have work…" I squinted my eyes, "in about 6 hours," chuckling at the time, "That will give me enough time to catch the bus—"

"You take the bus?" he gasped at my announcement.

"Yes Christian, we don't all rely on people driving us around. I'm saving." So I can eat and pay rent, but this nosy man doesn't need to know.

"That's ridiculous. I can have a car sent over now."

"No! We aren't together and haven't or really weren't to begin with."

"Miss Steele we haven't finished talking about what happened. You know… after you left."

"What is there to tell, it's obvious you have moved on…" He continued to groan.

"No—" his voice roared into the phone.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"Clearly it does, after almost three years and I remember you kissing me, why do I remember you kissing me?"

I gasp, staring out my window, he can't say that.

"A lot has happen in your absence and for one, I never forgot. We needed to clear the water, how about this. I'll drunk dial you later."

"The Christian Grey, intoxicated, and calling someone on his own merit. Impossible." laughing at his words.

"Sure why not? An eye for an eye. What time will you be home?"

Sitting up quickly, "Christian, drunk dials are acts of spontaneity. You can't schedule it with your assistant."

"Ok, would you rather me surprise you at an inopportune moment?" and there it was, that devilish sound in his voice.

"I haven't had a surprise in quite some time."

"I thought you had reached your quota of surprises."

"You're impossible, Mr Grey."

"No, prepared, Miss Steele."

"Goodbye, Christian."

"Soon Ana."

Suddenly my floorboards creaked outside my bedroom door, with a familiar mumbling from my roommate. "Affirmative, Sir."

So I thought back to my mug, 'Life is short & so am I," and my smile was back.

THIS IS NOT THE END. To be continued…