Updated on May 24, 2015
50 Shades of Grey – Chapter Four
We left Anastasia in the arms of Christian Grey, who had just saved her from the path of a bicycle that would almost certainly have killed her. There was sexual tension between them … or something.
50 Shades of Grey
KISS ME, DAMN it! I implore him…
Why don’t you kiss him? (Also, yes, that crazy capitalisation is what is written.)
He’s breathing harder than usual, and I’ve stopped breathing altogether.
She’s so dependent he even breathes for her.
When he opens his eyes again, it’s with some new purpose, a steely resolve.
The number of bad surname-related puns in this book is insufferably frequent. I must steel myself to continue reading, lest I fall into a grey area and Kavanagh continue…
“…you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.”
I’m a vampire and if we get into bed I might eat you… Oops. Wrong book.
Surely I should be the judge of that.
No. You can make your own decisions when you learn to walk in a straight line.
“Breathe, Anastasia, breathe. I’m going to stand you up and let you go”
This reads like an instruction manual. Self-sufficiency 101 for the astonishingly needy.
“I’ve got this,” I breathe, finding my voice. “Thank you”
Quick, Christian, back away. It’s not your fault if she was still upright when you left her.
With a shake, I clear my head.
Christ! I wish the rogue cyclist had lopped it off.
…my subconscious mocks me.
I … turn to face the road and note with relief that the green man has appeared.
He looks so good up there, all emerald and glowing, and I fleetingly imagine being in those open, luminescent arms. No! What would a traffic light want with someone like me? My subconscious sticks out her tongue and does a stupid dance. I sigh and shake my head. Even the green man is walking away from me.
I turn on my heel, vaguely amazed that I don’t trip…
Only vaguely amazed? I’m so shocked that I just spluttered tea all over my Kindle.
Anastasia cries in an underground car park and does a bit of self-analysing, revealing (incredibly) that she’s always rejected people first, because of her own insecurities.
I have never been on the receiving end of rejection. Okay … so I was always one of the last to be picked for basketball
Yes. That is exactly the same.
Running and doing something else at the same time like bouncing … a ball is not my thing.
Take note, Grey. She can only bounce one ball at a time.
There was that one guy in my chemistry class who liked me…
If that’s a nod to Twilight I will die of shame for understanding it.
Anastasia goes home, where Bloody Kate is waiting.
“Ana, what’s wrong?”
Oh no … not the Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition.
Once again Bloody Kate is showing genuine bloody concern for her best bloody friend. How totally unbearable.
I shake my head in a back-off-now-Kavanagh way.
Bloody Kate tries to make Ana feel better by providing friendly support and inexplicably calling her a babe. Ana ignores her and ‘realises’ that Grey is not the man for her because he’s really fit. Hooray for female empowerment.
Idly, I wonder if perhaps he’s celibate. … Maybe he’s saving himself.
Ha! I don’t think celibacy sells over 5 million books. (5 million. How thoroughly depressing.)
She takes her final exam. The one she has been ‘studying for’ since page one.
It’s Friday, and we shall be celebrating tonight, really celebrating. I might even get drunk!
“Ana, there’s a package for you.”
Odd. I haven’t ordered anything from Amazon recently. It’s addressed to Miss Anastasia Steele. There’s no sender’s address or name.
Stop speculating and OPEN IT. This is a sure fire way to find out what’s inside.
I inspect the books closely, three volumes of Tess of the D’Urbervilles. … Holy shit – they are first editions.
No, Ana, I am dangerous for you. Stay away. I’ll just take you for coffee. Then maybe send you a priceless package. But, please, stay away.
She says she will send the books back to Grey. They go out to celebrate.
The bar is loud and hectic…
“José Luis Rodriguez – are you trying to get me drunk? Because I think it’s working.”
After champagne and five glasses of margarita, I should bloody well think so.
I make my way to the bar and decide that I should visit the bathroom while I am on my feet. Good thinking, Ana.
Indeed! Congratulations on being toilet trained.
She drunk dials Grey. Not such good thinking, Ana.
“I’m not the strange one, you are.” There – that told him, my courage fuelled by alcohol.
I imagine him as an old-time movie director wearing jodhpurs, holding an old-fashioned megaphone and a riding crop.
But … why?
She hangs up after slurring at him for a bit. He calls her back and she answers WHILST SHE IS ON THE TOILET.
“I’m coming to get you,” he says, and hangs up.
She has told him she is in ‘a bar’ in Portland. But he’ll probably still find her though. Because this story is bollocks.
Drinking in the cool evening air in the parking lot makes me realise how drunk I am.
Classier by the minute.
“Ana,” José has joined me. “You okay?”
Argh! Attractive man wants to look after you! Why must she be tortured so?
His hand has slipped into my hair, and he’s holding my head in place. … I don’t want this.
So knee him in the balls…
“I think the lady said no”… Holy shit! Christian Grey, he’s here.
…or wait for rescue. Much more your style.
I vomit spectacularly on to the ground.
Fantastic! This could be the best moment in the book so far. Ana’s complete spinelessness and abject humiliation, all on one page.
“Ugh – Dios mío, Ana!” José jumps back in disgust.
Well, there you go, José can’t really love her, otherwise he’d have let her spew all over him.
I vow silently that I’ll never ever drink again.
Only he would have a monogrammed … handkerchief. CTG. Vaguely I wonder what the T stands for…
I will guess … todger.
…this is so, so many shades darker in terms of humiliation.
Shades! Darker! It’s difficult enough to shoehorn in one book title, let alone two! Kudos.
“What are you sorry for, Anastasia?”
Damn it, he wants his damned pound of flesh.
READER, PLEASE NOTE: EL JAMES HAS READ THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.
“Do you make a habit of this kind of behaviour?”
It is literally none of your business. Back off.
There is a tedious conversation in which Grey explains … oh, forget it, it’s too boring even to summarise. He traced her phone, that’s how he found her.
He’s clutching my hand – such a confusing array of emotions. I’ll need at least a week to process them all.
Yup, that’s how emotions work. Once this guy touched my hand and it took me three days to clear the backlog. I had to cancel a haircut and a swimming trip.
…somewhere deep, deep down my muscles clench deliciously.
I have decided not to find this disgusting, because I know much worse is to come.
Grey orders Ana to drink a glass of water. Whilst she does this she reminisces about the events that happened a mere few pages before. You may be asleep, EL James, but I am not. There is no need to repeat yourself.
Boy, he can dance. In the back of my mind, my mother’s often-recited warning comes to me: Never trust a man who can dance.
Brilliant. Far better advice than, say, never trust a billionaire playboy who tracks your phone, tells you what to drink and turns up uninvited to your party.
Ana and Grey find Kate dancing with Christian’s brother, Elliott. Kate is putting the moves on Elliott because she, unlike Ana, has moves.
It means there’ll be three of us for breakfast tomorrow morning.
My my, how presumptuous.
Is she okay? I can see where things are heading for her and him. I need to do the safe-sex lecture.
Really? I think Kate might have a little more knowledge in that department. Where would you get your information?
I hope she reads one of the posters on the inside of the bathroom door.
Read Chapter Five.