Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Hehasn’ttakenhishandsoffme.

           “Forsavingme,”Iwhisper.

           “Thatidiotwasridingthewrongway.I’mgladIwashere.Ishuddertothinkwhatcouldhavehappenedtoyou.Doyouwanttocomeandsitdowninthehotelforamoment?”Hereleasesme,hishandsbyhissides,andI’mstandinginfrontofhimfeelinglikeafool.

           Withashake,Iclearmyhead.Ijustwanttogo.Allmyvague,unarticulatedhopeshavebeendashed.Hedoesn’twantme.WhatwasIthinking?Iscoldmyself.WhatwouldChristianGreywantwithyou?mysubconsciousmocksme.Iwrapmyarmsaroundmyselfandturntofacetheroadandnotewithreliefthatthegreenmanhasappeared.Iquicklymakemywayacross,consciousthatGreyisbehindme.Outsidethehotel,Iturnbrieflytofacehimbutcannotlookhimintheeye.

           “Thanksfortheteaanddoingthephotoshoot,”Imurmur.

           “Anastasia…I…”Hestops,andtheanguishinhisvoicedemandsmyattention,soIpeerunwillinglyupathim.Hisgrayeyesarebleakasherunshishandthroughhishair.Helookstorn,frustrated,hisexpressionstark,allhiscarefulcontrolhasevaporated.

           “What,Christian?”Isnapirritablyafterhesays…nothing.Ijustwanttogo.Ineedtotakemyfragile,woundedprideawayandsomehownurseitbacktohealth.

           “Goodluckwithyourexams,”hemurmurs.

           Huh?Thisiswhyhelookssodesolate?Thisisthebigsendoff?Justtowishmeluckinmyexams?

           “Thanks.”Ican’tdisguisethesarcasminmyvoice.“Good-bye,Mr.Grey.