Hello! This is my first Fanfiction, and I am very self-conscious about my writing. I love criticism and welcome any and all reviews! Please take the time to read, follow, favorite, or review. It would mean the world to me. I have written with Everyonedeserveslove on her fanfiction, Two Weeks. I helped with the last couple of chapters, and we are curently updating. Any suggestions are welcome, I am open to changing my story in any way to make it better. It is rated M for future chapters and the cursing and adult themes mentioned even in the first chapter. If any of that offends you, please refrain from going any farther. I will usually warn you if there is any explicit sex or things related to that. I know some people like to read M rated things, just not the sex scenes. I am totally fine with that, non taken. Other than that, the opening notes, please read, comment, suggest, and review!

I lay on my bed, on my stomach, with my feet in the air. As loud as my android allowed, I played Maroon 5's Payphone; the explicit version with the cursing. I'm not actually sure if Erik would approve or not. Even after knowing him for so long, he completely confuses me. Erik must rub off on me because people call me confusing, too. If I'm angry, I get quiet and don't talk to people, which is really unlike my usual self, and when I'm silly, I jump around and talk a lot more than my usual self.

My gifted teacher, Mrs. Miller, is one of the few who can handle me, and she is like a mom. I don't have one, though... Both of my parents died when I was five, Erik told me. He said he fostered me after seeing me crying alone on the playground of the school I attend. It's a huge school. With all grades, its pretty crowded, but there are different buildings. Each building is big, also, and they are meant for each grade. Some special teachers have different grades come to their class, though, like Mrs. Miller.

"CHRISTINE!" Oh, no. His voice can get pretty loud, and he can make it sound as though it is somewhere he really isn't. Its fascinating.

"CHRISTINE!" I jump up, he is not happy. Walking out of my room, I shut off the music and place my phone in my classic-fit shorts. I travel through the hallway and stop in front of my unnecessary portrait hanging. That wasn't a fun day, he had to force me to take it. I was in a white dress with green polka dots, about ten years old, and, looking back, I feel absolutely retar-

"God help me... CHRISTINE!" Uh, oh. Walk, Christine. Left, right, yes, now again. I am finally in the huge, modern, dark den and Erik looks pissed, like, really pissed. I notice my lemonhead wrapper on the piano and close my eyes tightly, wishing myself away.

"Explain this!"

"I- I'm sorry..." I didn't know what else to say. There was no reasoning when he was angry.

"I'm sorry? God damn it, Christine! Do you have to leave a trail wherever you step? Your school books and unfinished homework are on the table. Your dinner plate is on the counter NEXT to the sink! Why is it so hard to place it, not even, six inches away? And this! Oh, this. A candy wrapper on my PIANO! Holy fu- God! Christine, please pick up your things. There are dishes to wash." His voice got dreadfully quiet. That's when he was his worst.

I nod, scurrying to pick up the wrapper off the sleek, black grand piano and place my plate on the left side of the sink. I grab my Algebra I and Earth Science book, all the while feeling Erik's cool eyes. I mutter an apology before hanging my head and walking to my bedroom. I place them down and quickly return, seeing him walk away. I finish the dishes and find him in his office rubbing his forehead, reading glasses in hand.

"I know you're upset with me, and I'm sorry... But, do you want to watch a movie?"

Still massaging his head, he closes his eyes and mutters, "Sure.

Instead of a movie, we decided on Friends, the T.V. show with Jennifer Aniston. I think it's a classic comedy show, but Erik seems completely impassive.

"Are you okay? Do you want to talk, Erik?"

"No. Watch the movie."

"Please, Erik. I'm really sorry..." No answer, so I snuggle farther into his chest. He has his arms out on the backs of the sofa in our home theater and I have my knees up to me, holding onto him. I lean up and kiss his cheek, careful not to breathe in his face. I am always very self-conscious about my breath. If it smells bad… Ugh.

"I really am sorry..." I mumble. He sighs before wrapping his arms around me. Finally! I smile and focus on the 70" Flat screen, trying to go through our argument. I didn't say anything disrespectful…

"You know how I feel about my piano, Christine." His deep voice made me jump.

"Yes, I love it, too. I didn't mean to leave anything on it. I sat down to play and remembered I had a wrapper in my jeans. I took it out and just kind of set it down..."

"That's no excuse, though. You aren't allowed to eat in the den anyway. Let alone have wrappers that should be in the trash bin. They are all around the house, Christine." I nod, not wanting to waste my reasons to him. He won't listen anyway.

"No, don't shut down on me. I know what you're doing. You asked me if I wanted to talk, I'm talking."

"Ok."

"How was school, today?"

"Just a normal Wednesday. Nothing special, really."

"Nothing special? No updates on Raoul?"

"Not really; still rich, gifted, and always in trouble."

"Still in trouble?"

"Yeah. Well, he got suspended for fighting with Colton..."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah. It seems he cursed out Coach Carter and then, when he went back into the locker rooms, Colton mouthed off to him. I guess that was the last straw, because he started throwing punches."

"Colton just doesn't know when to quit, does he?"

"I guess not. And, even after their brief friendship last year, they still seem to have problems with each other..."

He grunted quietly. His way of understanding, I guess, "I'm going to bed, don't watch anything I wouldn't approve of." He gets up from the sofa, leaving me to feel cold

"Okay, Erik." He's always so skeptical about me and doesn't trust me as he used to. I know why, but I'm just too curious for my own good, I guess. He's so collected and serious; I didn't expect to find that. I did, though, on the left side under his bed. A DVD box labeled XXX caught my interest, so I popped it into the DVD Player. I found an unwelcome sight of man and woman, naked, and on the counter of a diner. I was only six or seven, then. He walked in, gasping and switched it off as I ran to my room. He quickly followed, sitting on the edge of my pink, canopy, princess bed. Oh, it was so pretty. Anyway, he wipes away my tears and tells me I am never to touch his things. I remember crying harder, but, ever since then, I had been intrigued.

Then, when I was eleven, I came across pictures online. I didn't go looking for them, but they were similar to his DVD... Seeing the reactions of the women in the pictures, I tried... touching myself. Now, of course, it didn't do anything for me, but, because of my guilty conscience, I told Erik. His face was priceless, remembering it now, but back then, I was scared that he was going to actually hit me. He didn't... never did. He simply got incredibly uncomfortable and walked out. I felt a little betrayed. I had just shared something, extremely personal, to someone who was supposed to love me no matter what, and he walked away. Looking back, I know it was because he didn't know what to say.

Now, I read erotic novels and 'smut,' as they call it. It gives me that delicious feeling in my lower stomach. I am beginning to crave it. I told him I read things my age wouldn't but he doesn't know exactly what. I write, too. I write bad stories that I share with my best friend, Heather. She likes to read them, but can't write them. Meg, my other best friend, is a little more innocent. She got uncomfortable with one of my stories, so I don't let her read them anymore. She likes to hug me a lot. I think she likes me, like a girlfriend. She denies it and we got into a big fight where Heather and Meg stuck together. I didn't insult her, I only asked Heather if she agreed in thinking that Meg liked girls. It seems Heather told Meg I was talking behind her back. I wasn't, but Heather was only being there for her friend. They have been friends for a lot longer.

I haven't been friends with people very long before I would change schools. Being in gifted, it was difficult to find a program for me, so I switched around, having to make new friends every two years or so. It was difficult, but I managed.

I yawn, suddenly feeling tired. I don't have a bedtime; just when I'm tired, or when I know I should go to bed. He trusts me with that. I turn everything off and travel to my bedroom, passing his on the way. I open the door to say goodnight, and am surprised by the sight of a toned, very naked, butt. I gasp and shut the door... Crap, he looked good. I hear him muttering curses under his breath and race-walk to my bedroom. He is there, though, turning me around to face him.

"Ta, ta, ta, Christine!" I try my hardest not to look down, but notice he put loose pajama pants on when I do anyway.

"What did you see? Hey! No, come here," Why can't he just let me sleep?

"What did you see, Christine?"

"Just your butt. Can I go to sleep now?" I choose blunt and bored as my persona.

"Why don't you knock?! You know, people actually get dressed in their bedrooms!"

"Why is it always my fault? Why do you walk around in your bedroom, naked, like a weirdo?! I want to go to bed!"

"Look..." He groans, running a hand through his hair, "I'm sorry. Goodnight, Christine,"

I turn away and walk towards my bedroom, "Goodnight, I love you..." My voice is unusually quiet.

"I love you, too."

Why is it always so weird around him? It's like I'm comfortable but I have a guard up. I always suck in my stomach, because I don't have a flat stomach, around him. I always try to look pretty where he's concerned. He's just Erik, though. But, is it wrong to think your foster-father is extremely sexy? He's got big feet, a size 12, but their handsome; long toes, and they aren't too hairy, he keeps them well-groomed, too. Wait, why am I talking about feet? He got long legs, strong thighs, and thick, muscular calves. A narrow hips and waist compared to his broad shoulders. He's got a four-pack, and a chest lightly dusted with dark hair. An angular jaw, beautiful green eyes, and full lips. And, to top it all off, a head of thick, black hair. He's gorgeous. The only reason he doesn't get dates, I think, is because of the mask. It makes him really mysterious, he only wears it when my friends come over or he leaves the house for work and other things.

He owns Destler Corporations, a huge company and he's stinking rich. I'm not allowed to sleep over at friends' houses. He says our house is big enough for them to come over and that if I'm over there, he can't keep an eye on me and make sure I'm safe. He just doesn't want me doing things I already do.

I snuggle into my Paris bed. It's beautiful, my whole room is. It's a deep blue and black color-scheme. He helped design it with me around my two favorite colors. I've got a full, black platform bed with a bedding set of Paris designs. It's custom-made. 'Nothing but the best,' Erik says. He spoils me and I know it, but I still love him…

Well, there it is. Chapter 1 : Wrapper. Christine is kind of outgoing in this story. She is usually very quiet in others, but I think Erik is quiet himself. So I think they would balance each other out. In a relationship, you can't have two obnoxiuous or wo shy people. It usually doesn't work out. And, while Erik is kind of outspoken, sometimes, Christine can get a bit shy, too. Read, comment, suggest, and review!