Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 4
“Jeez,Ana—areyouokay?Wereyouhurt?”Sheholdsmeatarm’slengthanddoesaquickvisualcheckuponme.
“No.Christiansavedme,”Iwhisper.“ButIwasquiteshaken.”
“I’mnotsurprised.Howwascoffee?Iknowyouhatecoffee.”
“Ihadtea.Itwasfine,nothingtoreportreally.Idon’tknowwhyheaskedme.”
“Helikesyou,Ana.”Shedropsherarms.
“Notanymore.Iwon’tbeseeinghimagain.”Yes,Imanagetosoundmatter-of-fact.
“Oh?”
Damnit.She’sintrigued.Iheadintothekitchensothatshecan’tseemyface.
“Yeah…he’salittleoutofmyleague,Kate,”IsayasdrylyasIcanmanage.
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Oh,Kate,it’sobvious.”Iwhirlaroundandfaceherasshestandsinthekitchendoorway.
“Nottome,”shesays.“Okay,he’sgotmoremoneythanyou,butthenhehasmoremoneythanmostpeopleinAmerica!”
“Katehe’s—”Ishrug.
“Ana!Forheaven’ssake—howmanytimesdoIhavetotellyou?You’reatotalbabe,”sheinterruptsme.Ohno.She’soffonthistiradeagain.
“Kate,please.Ineedtostudy.”Icuthershort.Shefrowns.
“Doyouwanttoseethearticle?It’sfinished.Josétooksomegreatpictures.”
DoIneedavisualreminderofthebeautifulChristianI-Don’t-Want-YouGrey?
“Sure.”Imagicasmileonmyfaceandstrollovertothelaptop.Andthereheis,staringatmeinblackandwhite,staringatmeandfindingmelacking.
