Chapter 17
I pretend to read the article, all the time meeting his steady gray gaze, searching the photo for some
clue as to why he''s not the man for me - his own words to me. And it''s suddenly, blindingly obvious.
He''s too gloriously good-looking. We are poles apart and from two very different worlds. I have a vision
of myself as Icarus flying too close to the sun and crashing and burning as a result. His words make
sense. He''s not the man for me.
This is what he meant, and it makes his rejection easier to ept... almost. I can live with this. I
understand.
"Very good Kate," I manage. "I''m going to study." I am not going to think about him again for now, I vow
to myself, and opening my revision notes, I start to read.
It''s only when I''m in bed, trying to sleep, that I allow my thoughts to drift through my strange morning. I
keeping back to the ''I don''t do the girlfriend thing'' quote, and I''m angry that I didn''t pounce on this
information sooner, when I was in his arms mentally begging him with every fiber of my being to kiss
me. He''d said it there and then. He didn''t want me as a girlfriend. I turn on to my side. Idly, I wonder if
perhaps he''s celibateI close my eyes and begin to drift. Maybe he''s saving himself. Well not for you, my
sleepy subconscious has a final swipe at me before unleashing itself on my dreams.
And that night, I dream of gray eyes, leafy patterns in milk, and I''m running through dark ces with
eerie strip lighting, and I don''t know if I''m running toward something or away from it... it''s just not clear.
I put my pen down. Finished. My final exam is over. I feel the Cheshire cat grin spread over my face.
It''s probably the first time all week that I''ve smiled. It''s Friday, and we shall be celebrating tonight, really
celebrating. I might even get drunk! I''ve never been drunk before. I nce across the sports hall at
Kate, and she''s still scribbling furiously, five minutes to the end. This is it, the end of my academic
career. I shall never have to sit in rows of anxious, isted students again. Inside I''m doing graceful
cartwheels around my head, knowing full well that''s the only ce I can do graceful cartwheels. Kate
stops writing and puts her pen down. She nces across at me, and I catch her Cheshire cat smile too.
We head back to our apartment together in her Mercedes, refusing to discuss our final paper. Kate is
more concerned about what she''s going to wear to the bar this evening. I am busily fishing around in
my purse for my keys.
"Ana, there''s a package for you." Kate is standing on the steps up to the front door holding a brown
paper parcel. Odd. I haven''t ordered anything from Amazon recently.
Kate gives me the parcel and takes my keys to open the front door. It''s addressed to Miss Anastasia
Steele. There''s no sender''s address or name. Perhaps it''s from my mom or Ray.
"It''s probably from my folks."
"Open it!" Kate is excited as she heads into the kitchen for our ''Exams are finished hurrah
Champagne''.
I open the parcel, and inside I find a half leather box containing three seemingly identi-cal old cloth-
covered books in mint condition and a in white card. Written on one side, in ck ink in neat cursive
handwriting, is:
I recognize the quote from Tess. I am stunned by the irony as I''ve just spent three hours writing about
the novels of Thomas Hardy in my final examination. Perhaps there is no irony... perhaps it''s deliberate.
I inspect the books closely, three volumes of Tess of the D''Urbervilles. I open the front cover. Written in
an old typeface on the front te is:
''London: Jack R. Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891.''
Holy shit - they are first editions. They must be worth a fortune, and I know immediately who''s sent
them. Kate is at my shoulder gazing at the books. She picks up the card.
"First Editions," I whisper.
"No." Kate''s eyes are wide with disbelief. "Grey?"
I nod.
"Can''t think of anyone else."
"What does this card mean?"
"I have no idea. I think it''s a warning - honestly he keeps warning me off. I have no idea why. It''s not
like I''m beating his door down." I frown.
"I know you don''t want to talk about him, Ana, but he''s seriously into you. Warnings or no."
I have not let myself dwell on Christian Grey for the past week. Okay... so his gray eyes are still
haunting my dreams, and I know it will take an eternity to expunge the feel of his arms around me and
his wonderful fragrance from my brain. Why has he sent me this?
He told me that I wasn''t for him.
"I''ve found one Tess first edition for sale in New York at $14,000. But yours looks in much better
condition. They must have cost more." Kate is consulting her good friend Google.
"This quote - Tess says it to her mother after Alec D''Urberville has had his wicked way with her."
Exclusive ? material by N?(/v)elDrama.Org.
"I know," muses Kate. "What is he trying to say?"
"I don''t know, and I don''t care. I can''t ept these from him. I''ll send them back with an equally baffling
quote from some obscure part of the book."
"The bit where Angel re says f**k off?" Kate asks with apletely straight face.
"Yes, that bit." I giggle. I love Kate, she''s so loyal and supportive. I repack the books and leave them on
the dining table. Kate hands me a ss of champagne.
"To the end of exams and our new life in Seattle," she grins.
"To the end of exams, our new life in Seattle, and excellent results." We clink sses and drink.
The bar is loud and hectic, full of soon to be graduates out to get trashed. Jose joins us. He won''t
graduate for another year, but he''s in the mood to party and gets us into the spirit of our newfound
freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas for us all. As I down my fifth, I know this is not a good idea
on top of the champagne.
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