~Twelve Years Earlier~

I walk from Elena's house back to my own feeling refreshed and sated. I have calmed significantly from the rage I felt earlier at school. I don't understand girls. I have no doubt that I am handsome, even at the age of fifteen. Every girl will act as if they want me and then when the time comes they can't deal with the shit that comes with me. Whatever. I don't want a normal relationship anyway. What I have with Elena is all I need. She understands me like no one else ever will.

I walk past the park when I hear a little girl's shrill cry. "STOP!"

I turn to see what's going on when I spot three boys surrounding a small girl. She is cowering in the middle of the small group of boys in the fetal position. I cross the street to get a better look at what's going on.

"Shut up Steele." The bigger boy kicks his foot and causes dirt to fling in her face.

"Leave me alone!" The little girl yells and the boy closest to her pulls her hair.

Normally I would just keep walking as this is none of my business, but something about the little girl is so helpless that I want nothing more than to help her. I feel my normal rage consume me as I run over to the group of bastards attacking this poor girl. I grab the biggest one by the shoulder spin him around and punch him so hard that I feel his nose crunch under my fist. The other two are startled and I see the look of fear in their eyes.

"What? Afraid of someone your own size?" I ask them. "Get your friend and get out of here and I better not ever see you picking on her again."

They grab the boy, whose nose is bleeding profusely, and drag him away.

I turn to see that the little girl is still cowering and inching away from me. She is crying and whimpering and I feel pity for her. I extend my hand to help her up and she flinches.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help. Please."

She uncovers her face and finally looks up at me and my breath catches in my throat. She has the most beautiful icy blue eyes I have ever seen. She wipes her face on her sleeve and reaches for my hand. I pull her to her feet and we just stare at each other.

'Thank you," she whispers and looks down at her hands, twisting them back and forth in her shirt.

I wave her off. "It's nothing. What's your name?"

She peeks up at me through her long brown hair and murmurs, "Anastasia. Anastasia Steele."

I'm so enchanted by her eyes and that sexy mane of hair that I almost miss what she says. Anastasia. That's so beautiful. I've never met a girl with that name before. I look her up and down and she is not the little girl I thought she was. She is very small but taller than what I expected for one so slight, but she is still several inches shorter than me. She has on a gray hoodie and loose pants and a pair of black converse sneakers. I wonder what she looks like under all that…

"Are you going to tell me your name?" She asks me softly.

"I'm Christian. Do you always walk around alone? Obviously it's not safe for you to be out here by yourself." I frown at her. She should learn to be more careful.

She looks me full in the face and I see her eyes flash with annoyance. "I'm 13 years old. I can take care of myself thank you!" She snaps at me.

"Yeah, because you were handling the situation so spectacularly," I snort sarcastically.

She looks at me wounded and murmurs sadly, "I have to go home now."

Shit I hurt her feelings. She starts to walk away and I grab her hand. "Wait. Look I'm sorry I'm being an asshole. That was rude of me. Friends?" Friends?! Where the hell did that come from? I don't need friends and if Elena caught me so much as breathe in another girl's direction she would beat the seven shades of shit out of me. I shudder with pleasure on the inside when I think of being in her playroom. She is so hot. I look back at the girl in front of me and forget all about Elena. I would like to be Anastasia's friend.

"How old are you?" She asks suddenly.

"I'm 15. Why?" Is that too old? It's just two years. I think that's okay.

She looks down at her hands again and I realize I'm sweating, waiting on her answer.

She looks back at me and says, "My friends call me Ana."

I smile brightly at her and what that sentence means. "Well Ana. I'm glad we're friends," and she returns my smile with her own beautiful one.