Пятьдесят оттенков серого

           Thelinehasmoved,andit’snowmyturn.Istareblanklyattheposteronthebackofthetoiletdoorthatextolsthevirtuesofsafesex.Holycrap,didIjustcallChristianGrey?Shit.Myphoneringsanditmakesmejump.Iyelpinsurprise.

           “Hi,”Ibleattimidlyintothephone.Ihadn’treckonedonthis.

           “I’mcomingtogetyou,”hesays,andhangsup.OnlyChristianGreycouldsoundsocalmandsothreateningatthesametime.

           Holycrap.Ipullmyjeansup.Myheartisthumping.Comingtogetme?Ohno.I’mgoingtobesick…no…I’mfine.Hangon.He’sjustmessingwithmyhead.Ididn’ttellhimwhereIwas.Hecan’tfindmehere.Besides,itwilltakehimhourstogetherefromSeattle,andwe’llbelonggonebythen.Iwashmyhandsandcheckmyfaceinthemirror.Ilookflushedandslightlyunfocused.Hmm…tequila.

           Iwaitatthebarforwhatfeelslikeaneternityforthepitcherofbeerandeventuallyreturntothetable.

           “You’vebeengonesolong,”Katescoldsme.“Wherewereyou?”

           “Iwasinlinefortherestroom.”

           JoséandLeviarehavingsomeheateddebateaboutourlocalbaseballteam.Josépausesinhistiradetopourusallbeers,andItakealongsip.

           “Kate,IthinkI’dbetterstepoutsideandgetsomefreshair.”

           “Ana,youaresuchalightweight.”

           “I’llbefiveminutes.”

           Imakemywaythroughthecrowdagain.Iambeginningtofeelnauseated,myheadisspinninguncomfortably,andI’malittleunsteadyonmyfeet.Moreunsteadythanusual.

           DrinkinginthecooleveningairintheparkinglotmakesmerealizehowdrunkIam.