Fifty Shades of Grey Read Online Free PDF Page A

fly-fishing or making furniture when he’s not. Ray is a skilled carpenter and the reason I know the difference between a hawk and a handsaw. All seems well with him.
    Friday night, Kate and I are debating what to do with our evening – we want some time out from our studies, from our work, and from student newspapers – when the doorbell rings.
    Standing on our doorstep is my good friend José, clutching a bottle of champagne.
    “José! Great to see you!” I give him a quick hug. “Come in.”
    José is the first person I met when I arrived at WSU, looking as lost and lonely as I did.
    We recognized a kindred spirit in each of us that day, and we’ve been friends ever since.
    Not only do we share a sense of humor, but we discovered that both Ray and José Senior were in the same army unit together. As a result, our fathers have become firm friends too.
    José is studying engineering and is the first in his family to make it to college. He’s pretty damn bright, but his real passion is photography. José has a great eye for a good picture.
    “I have news.” He grins, his dark eyes twinkling.
    “Don’t tell me – you’ve managed not to get kicked out for another week,” I tease, and he scowls playfully at me.
    “The Portland Place Gallery is going to exhibit my photos next month.”
    “That’s amazing – congratulations!” Delighted for him, I hug him again. Kate beams at him too.
    “Way to go José! I should put this in the paper. Nothing like last minute editorial changes on a Friday evening.” She grins.
    “Let’s celebrate. I want you to come to the opening.” José looks intently at me. I flush.
    “Both of you, of course,” he adds, glancing nervously at Kate.
    José and I are good friends, but I know deep down inside, he’d like to be more. He’s cute and funny, but he’s just not for me. He’s more like the brother I never had. Katherine often teases me that I’m missing the need-a-boyfriend gene, but the truth is – I just haven’t met anyone who… well, whom I’m attracted to, even though part of me longs for those trembling knees, heart-in-my-mouth, butterflies-in-my-belly, sleepless nights.
    Sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. Perhaps I’ve spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high. But in reality, nobody’s ever made me feel like that.
    Until very recently, the unwelcome, still small voice of my subconscious whispers.
    NO! I banish the thought immediately. I am not going there, not after that painful interview. Are you gay, Mr. Grey? I wince at the memory. I know I’ve dreamt about him most nights since then, but that’s just to purge the awful experience from my system, surely?
    I watch José open the bottle of champagne. He’s tall, and in his jeans and t-shirt he’s all shoulders and muscles, tanned skin, dark hair and burning dark eyes. Yes, José’s pretty hot, but I think he’s finally getting the message: we’re just friends. The cork makes its loud pop, and José looks up and smiles.
    Saturday at the store is a nightmare. We are besieged by do-it-yourselfers wanting to spruce up their homes. Mr. and Mrs. Clayton, John and Patrick – the two other part-timers
    – and I are all rushed off our feet. But there’s a lull around lunchtime, and Mrs. Clayton asks me to check on some orders while I’m sitting behind the counter at the till discreetly eating my bagel. I’m engrossed in the task, checking catalogue numbers against the items we need and the items we’ve ordered, eyes flicking from the order book to the computer screen and back as I check the entries match. Then, for some reason, I glance up… and find myself locked in the bold gray gaze of Christian Grey who’s standing at the counter, staring at me intently.
    Heart failure.
    “Miss Steele. What a pleasant surprise.” His gaze is unwavering and intense.
    Holy crap. What the hell is he doing here