Better Than Me

Chapter 1

A/N: Hey guys, long time no see! I know I posted the summary for this almost a year ago and it took me forever to start it, but better late than never, right? I kind of got out of the writing habit as life got busier for me, but I've been getting the itch to start writing again for months now so I finally said screw it to my responsibilities and started writing this. I can always do math later (or never.)

Hope you guys enjoy Christian's side of the story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. It's going to be ridiculous and I can't wait. Here's chapter one.

Oh, and just a warning: because this contains Christian's thoughts there is going to be more language/vulgarity than in Better Than Revenge because that's who he is as a person and I don't want to have to filter all of his thoughts because then the pages would all be blank.

So be warned that there is language in this book.

Also, this is copyrighted, all rights reserved, *insert copyright statement here that I am too lazy to search for and copy and paste onto here as of this moment* blah, blah, blah.

Enjoy!

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Better Than Me

Chapter 1

I really thought I was going to get laid tonight until I brought my date upstairs and saw my dog had shit on my bed.

Everything had been going so smoothly up until then. It was the night of the premiere of my new movie, Fighter, which was pretty cool in and of itself, but the best part about it? It was a whole night dedicated to me. The paparazzi were all over me, the red-carpet reporters mostly just wanted to talk to me but settled for my other costars when I was busy – I guess those guys needed some attention, too – and, most importantly of all, every girl there wanted to be the one I took home that night. I could pretty much pick any girl I wanted. My prize could be the hottest girl there, or maybe the one who looked like she'd be up for some really kinky shit.

Just not too kinky. I was done dealing with girls who wanted me to reenact 50 Shades of Grey with them. It didn't help that my name was Christian, but for fuck's sake, I was Christian Ryder. I was a way better catch than that tool Christian Grey. Why the hell did I have to roleplay as that guy when I could just be myself?

Sure, the guy was a billionaire, but I was no McDonald's cashier myself. I was the hottest actor of the moment, deemed Hollywood's Golden Boy by pretty much everyone. My movies consistently sold out at box office and chicks loved me. And – and here was the best part – I was real. Plus, I probably had a bigger –

"Dude, what the fuck? It smells like shit in here."

I looked towards the source of the voice, the one and only Blake Grey. We had been friends for a while, before 50 Shades of Grey became the bane of my existence, but we had since bonded over our similar struggle. The easiest way to get punched in the face by Blake was to call him Mr. Grey or ask him if any of his rooms were red. He didn't like telemarketers or bank tellers much. Or people who addressed others formally. Or most females.

Instead of saying something, I just pointed at my bed. I had been standing there so long thinking about how much this sucked and how much I didn't want to clean up Bubba's mess that I had gotten used to the stench.

"That's nasty. Bubba, you're grounded, wherever you are," Blake said, but Bubba had fled the scene of the crime long ago. "Where is he?"

I shrugged. "He ran off a bit ago. I've been standing here having an existential crisis."