Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 9
“Well,asyou’resore,Ithoughtwecouldsticktooralskills.”
Ichokeonmytea,andIstareathim,eyeswideandmouthgaping.Hepatsmegentlyonthebackandpassesmesomeorangejuice.Icannottellwhathe’sthinking.
“That’sifyouwanttostay,”headds.Iglanceupathim,tryingtorecovermyequilibrium.Hisexpressionisunreadable.It’ssofrustrating.
“I’dliketostayfortoday.Ifthat’sokay.Ihavetoworktomorrow.”
“Whattimedoyouhavetobeatworktomorrow?”
“Nine.”
“I’llgetyoutoworkbyninetomorrow.”
Ifrown.Doeshewantmetostayanothernight?
“I’llneedtogohometonight—Ineedcleanclothes.”
“Wecangetyousomehere.”
Idon’thavesparecashtospendonclothes.Hishandcomesup,andhegraspsmychin,tuggingitsomylipisreleasedfromthegripofmyteeth.I’mnotevenawareI’vebeenbitingmylip.
“Whatisit?”heasks.
“Ineedtobehomethisevening.”
Hismouthisahardline.
“Okay,thisevening,”heacquiesces.“Noweatyourbreakfast.”
Mythoughtsandmystomachareinturmoil.Myappetitehasvanished.Istareatmyhalf-eatenbreakfast.I’mjustnothungry.
“Eat,Anastasia.Youdidn’teatlastnight.”
“I’mreallynothungry,”Iwhisper.
Hiseyesnarrow.“Iwouldreallylikeyoutofinishyourbreakfast.”
“Whatisitwithyouandfood?”Iblurtout.Hisbrowknits.
“Itoldyou,Ihaveissueswithwastedfood.Eat,”hesnaps.Hiseyesaredark,pained.
Holycrap.Whatisthatallabout?Ipickupmyforkandeatslowly,tryingtochew.
