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“

Thanks

.

”

I

can

’

t

disguise

the

sarcasm

in

my

voice

.

“

Good

-

bye

,

Mr

.

Grey

.

”

I

turn

on

my

heel

,

vaguely

amazed

that

I

don

’

t

trip

,

and

without

giving

him

a

second

glance

,

I

disappear

down

the

sidewalk

toward

the

underground

garage

.

Once

underneath

the

dark

,

cold

concrete

of

the

garage

with

its

bleak

fluorescent

light

,

I

lean

against

the

wall

and

put

my

head

in

my

hands

.

What

was

I

thinking

?

Unbidden

and

unwelcome

tears

pool

in

my

eyes

.

Why

am

I

crying

?

I

sink

to

the

ground

,

angry

at

myself

for

this

senseless

reaction

.

Drawing

up

my

knees

,

I

fold

in

on

myself

.

I

want

to

make

myself

as

small

as

possible

.

Perhaps

this

nonsensical

pain

will

be

smaller

the

smaller

I

am

.

Placing

my

head

on

my

knees

,

I

let

the

irrational

tears

fall

unrestrained

.

I

am

crying

over

the

loss

of

something

I

never

had

.

How

ridiculous

.

Mourning

something

that

never

was

—

my

dashed

hopes

,

my

dashed

dreams

,

and

my

soured

expectations

.

Отключить рекламу

I

have

never

been

on

the

receiving

end

of

rejection

.

Okay

…

so

I

was

always

one

of

the

last

to

be

picked

for

basketball

or

volleyball

,

but

I

understood

that

—

running

and

doing

something

else

at

the

same

time

like

bouncing

or

throwing

a

ball

is

not

my

thing

.

I

am

a

serious

liability

in

any

sporting

field

.

Romantically

,

though

,

I

’

ve

never

put

myself

out

there

,

ever

.

A

lifetime

of

insecurity

—

I

’

m

too

pale

,

too

skinny

,

too

scruffy

,

uncoordinated

,

my

long

list

of

faults

goes

on

.

So

I

have

always

been

the

one

to

rebuff

any

would

-

be

admirers

.

There

was

that

guy

in

my

chemistry

class

who

liked

me

,

but

no

one

has

ever

sparked

my

interest

—

no

one

except

Christian

Damn

Grey

.

Maybe

I

should

be

kinder

to

the

likes

of

Paul

Clayton

and

José

Rodriguez

,

though

I

’

m

sure

neither

of

them

has

been

found

sobbing

alone

in

dark

places

.

Perhaps

I

just

need

a

good

cry

.

Stop

!

Stop

now

!

my

subconscious

is

metaphorically

screaming

at

me

,

arms

folded

,

leaning

on

one

leg

and

tapping

her

foot

in

frustration

.

Get

in

the

car

,

go

home

,

do

your

studying

.

Forget

about

him

…

Now

!

And

stop

all

this

self

-

pitying

,

wallowing

crap

.

Отключить рекламу

I

take

a

deep

,

steadying

breath

and

stand

up

.

Get

it

together

,

Steele

.

I

head

for

Kate

’

s

car

,

wiping

the

tears

off

my

face

as

I

do

.

I

will

not

think

of

him

again

.

I

can

just

chalk

this

incident

up

to

experience

and

concentrate

on

my

exams

.

KATE

IS

SITTING

AT

the

dining

table

at

her

laptop

when

I

arrive

.

Her

welcoming

smile

fades

when

she

sees

me

.

“

Ana

,

what

’

s

wrong

?

”

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