Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Victorious. I'm not smart enough to come up with this kind of geniusness;)
Author's note: Just as a warning, the rating for this story will change. If that makes you uncomfortable, please don't invest any time into reading this story.
{~~~JADE~~~}
I sit outside the building, doing nothing. Just sitting in my car and thinking, persuading myself to keep sitting in my car. To not enter the building.
It's early in the morning. 6:30am in fact. But that doesn't matter. The building is open 24/7.
I stare at the flashing "open" sign. So big. So enticing. So inviting.
But I don't go in. I can't.
I yawn. A reminder that I haven't had my coffee, yet I'm somewhat functional. Alert even. It's because I'm thinking so hard. Concentrating. I'm persuading myself to sit right here.
Who knew it could be so difficult to sit still? Who knew it could be so difficult to stay here in my car; to not open my door; to not walk into the building? Who knew that could be difficult?
But it is.
It's very difficult.
Very hard.
I take a deep breath. I exhale. Then I take another breath, cleanse my mind.
Then I drive off.
I go to work. I leave the building behind, and I go to work.
Every day I do this. Sometimes twice a day. I park outside of the building, I sit in my car, and I restrain myself from getting out, from going inside.
Why do it at all? Why drive to the building in the first place?
Because there's something in there I want; but when I get the urge to go to the building it feels more like there's something in there that I need.
And so I sit there. In the parking lot. And I breathe until I can convince myself that the thing in the building, the thing I need, want, so bad, would be bad for me to have. Wrong.
It would be wrong.
Not the thing itself. But the purpose for which I would buy it. That would be wrong.
Wrong.
Because I want to sleep with one of my students. One of my female students.
I'm not a pervert or a pedophile. I swear I'm not. And I won't let anyone judge me, not until they take a walk in my shoes. And my shoes take me to Hollywood Arts every morning, Monday through Friday except holidays.
I teach scriptwriting. Not the average course for a high school, but Hollywood Arts is not a regular high school. It's a performing arts school, one of the best in fact. What we, as educators, do there, is mold future movie stars and artists. Which also means, there are more attractive kids there than there aren't. Like maybe eighty nine percent would first and foremost be described as sexy. The other eleven percent are so talented that their looks don't even matter. In fact, their unattractive faces have become quite endearing, in a way.
So of course I like to look, but what makes it so that I'm not a pedophile? I don't find myself attracted to any of these kids. They've got the look, sure, but they know it. They know they're talented. They know they're attractive. They know they're gonna be somebody.
Especially the scholarship kids. You'd think they'd be the most humble, not having money like the rest of their school mates. And you'd be wrong. They're the worst of them all because scholarship kids are the special ones. The ones with raw talent. The ones who were scouted during school plays at normal junior high and middle schools. Elementary schools too, in rare cases. So those kids, the scholarship kids, tend to be the most popular, the most cocky, and also the most hated, because they book more jobs.
Let me tell you, that much arrogance is a complete turn off, but it's what I expect from my students as well. These kids have to have a certain amount of self-importance, otherwise what the hell are they doing here?
I get through my day quite easily despite my morning…hiccup though. I always do. I'm an excellent actress. Far better than my students. I just happen to value my privacy more than the fame.
I warn my students about that part of stardom. But they claim it's worth it.
Half of the ones who make it will go insane from the lack of privacy. From the inability to simply go out and get a cheeseburger because fans and paparazzi want to-
"Ms. West, are you listening to me?"
I blink twice and look at the student who's interrupted my internal musings. Tori Vega. She's the only kid who calls me that.
It's West. Just West. That's what every other student in this entire school calls me. Except for this one. God, this girl works my nerves like no other.
She's a scholarship kid, which means she should be arrogant and conceited as hell. And why not? She's got the look. Big brown doe eyes, slim in figure, long, wavy brown hair, and something that no other girl in this school has. The most prominent cheekbones I've ever set eyes on.
She's also got talent. Singing and dancing is what she's most comfortable with, but her acting's actually pretty damn phenomenal. That's only in class though. She tends to get a bit of stage fright when it's time to perform in front of an audience. Sikowitz is working on that now. He's a brilliant teacher, weird, but brilliant. The girl will be a triple threat by the time she graduates…which is in two years, because Tori Vega is finishing her sophomore year. She's a little late though. I'm not too clear on the details, but I know she was held back in kindergarten. Who the hell gets held back in kindergarten? Add that to her late birthday and she's the oldest sophomore Hollywood Arts has ever had.
I sigh deeply. Tori's class is my last class of the day. So that bell that just rang was the final bell. The one that means it's time to go home. Yet, instead of going home and getting a head start on her weekend like all of the normal kids in this school, this girl has decided to corner me instead.
I grit my teeth and smile at her. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"
She huffs impatiently, her chest heaving slightly, and it takes a lot of effort on my part to keep my eyes on her face. I don't know why. She's barely an A-cup.
"A dance." She all but whines.
That's another thing about Tori. She irritates me. Bad. Something about her just makes me cringe, so I don't know exactly why she, of all the students in this freakin school, is the one my libido likes to get active around. Oh, did I mention Tori's the student I want to sleep with? No? Well she is and it confuses me to no end.
I know it's not just her physical appearance. As I've said, there are plenty of good looking students here. And it can't be her personality because she irritates me. So there's probably something wrong with me.
I'm hoping it passes soon.
"What about a dance?" I sigh, eventually.
"It's almost the end of the year and we haven't had a school dance yet." She continues.
Because they're stupid, pointless, and useless, I think to myself before giving her what I hope is an encouraging smile.
She doesn't say anything else after that and I figure she's waiting on me.
"Is there a question in there somewhere?" I ask, dropping my smile. I can only do that for so long.
She gives me a brilliant smile, and before I can start thinking about how bright and sunshiny it is, I arrange my face into a scowl.
"I was wondering if we can have one!" She exclaims. "Maybe a spring formal, or oh, what about a Sadie Hawkins dance?"
"A what?" I scowl some more, hoping she'll get discouraged and walk away.
No such luck.
"You know, a Sadie Hawkins dance! The one where instead of the guys asking the girls it's the other way around!" She finishes excitedly, and I have a feeling that's the one she wants to go with now.
"Why are you asking me?" I ask, my scowl still in place as I pack up my briefcase. Home. It's time to go home. Doesn't this kid wanna go home?
"You're…you're the head of student activities." She blinks at me.
She's right. I am the head of student activities, and as such I've got enough on my plate as it is. Trying to balance the school plays, trips, fundraisers, etc…let's just say, I've got enough to do without worrying about a stupid dance. Hollywood Arts has gone decades without doing the silly things, why start now?
"Ms. West?"
"No." I brush by her.
"What?" She gasps behind me.
"No." I repeat firmly.
I hear her scrambling up behind me and I successfully resist the urge to turn around and scream at her.
"Why not?" I hear her pant behind me. "Give me a reason and 'because I said so' is not one."
"Because I said so." I answer without missing a beat.
She grabs my arm.
Big mistake.
I whirl around and snatch away from her so forcefully that she falls, landing on her knees in front of me.
"Never touch me!" I hiss down at her.
Her face goes crimson, her eyes get wet. Please God don't let her cry. I didn't mean to make her fall, but I don't take it back.
It's my rule. Has been ever since my first year teaching here. Some senior with the hots for me told his whole class I gave him a deep massage, clothes off and everything, when in all actuality, I just gave him a pat on the shoulder for a job well done. After that, it's been my own personal rule. I don't touch my students, and they don't touch me. That way no one can accuse me of inappropriate touches between me and my students if there's no touching at all.
My students are used to it by now, but this is Tori's first year. Granted, this is a lot of my students' first years, but Tori….I don't know. The girl is made for touching. I don't think she realizes how much she does it, but I've watched her with her friends. She's extremely hands on. If she's not touching some part of one of her friends, she's unconsciously maneuvering herself so that one of her friends is touching her. So I know she didn't mean anything by grabbing me a few seconds ago, but like I said. It's my rule.
Tori stands up. She looks okay, physically. I don't see any bruising on her knees, but she's concentrating really hard on wiping them off. She's too embarrassed to look me in the face.
"I'll see you Monday, Tori." I tell her before walking away. I also thank God it's Friday. I won't have to see the girl for two whole days, and maybe by then this little incident will be forgotten.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
It's Saturday now, a good day I guess. It's beautiful out and all, but it's also late afternoon and I'm out for a jog. Which means, the sun's high, bright, and beaming down on me like there'll be no tomorrow.
So, I'm cursing myself out, as I always do during my Saturday afternoon jogs. For the millionth time, I'm wondering why I just can't wake up early and go while the sun's still sleeping.
I promise to wake up tomorrow morning and go, but I know I won't. I never keep those promises because I'm not much of a morning person. It's bad enough I've got to wake up early during the week to go to work.
"Ms. West!" I hear behind me.
Great. The sun's kicking my ass so bad that I'm hallucinating now.
"Ms. West!" I hear again, and I keep moving. There's just no way…
Suddenly she's jogging beside me. Tori Vega. I knew it was her. Like I said, she's the only person who calls me that. But, I don't know, I guess I was still hoping I was imagining her voice. And now that I know I haven't been, I turn and glare at her.
"How'd you find me?" I snap.
"Why can't we have a dance? I want a real reason." She pants beside me.
"Are you stalking me or something?"
She jogs a little ahead of me and turns so that she's jogging backwards, facing me, forcing me to look at her. "I want to have a Sadie Hawkins dance." She answers firmly.
The look on her face, that determined grimace thing that she's doing, sends a shot of pure wanting into my lower stomach.
I look down and I breathe. I inhale sharply, trying to cleanse my mind.
Wrong.
That feeling was wrong.
I'm barely watching where I'm going, trying so hard to avoid what her gaze is doing to me, but now I'm looking at her legs. She's got great legs. Long, smooth, blemish free. They're perfect. And there's another shot, sent straight down to core as I find myself imagining those perfect long legs wrapped around me.
I blink a few times, and my eyes roam upward, thighs, tight shorts, flat stomach, sports bra. Jeez-the-fuck-us! The girl's leaving very little to my imagination. I swear Tori's the only human who is more perfect in real life than whatever I've fantasized about her.
Finally, I look back up at Tori's face, because really, looking at her body isn't doing me any favors.
"No." I snap at her, shaking my head vehemently.
I interrupt whatever the hell she was talking about. I shout "no" at her, but really, I'm talking to myself.
"Please, Ms. West." She pouts, staring me straight in my eyes. "I'll do anything."
It's that little whimper that causes my brain to go haywire. I literally have to put all my effort into not imagining her beneath me, panting, whimpering, begging for me to….ah shit.
I start to run. Like, run. I seriously need to get away from her.
She chases after me for a few minutes, but she gets tired soon. Normally, I'm not much of a long distance sprinter, but I've got enough adrenaline pumping through my brains to keep at this pace for hours.
"I'll see you later, Ms. West!" She yells after me.
Fuck!
{~~~O~~~}
Sunday I stayed home the whole day. Never mind my fridge is empty and all I have to eat is peanut butter and jelly. But I couldn't risk Tori making good on her promise to "see me later."
Which was stupid on my part. It's not like I can avoid the girl forever. She is my student.
"Jade?"
I look up from my lunch. Peanut butter and Jelly because I still haven't had time to go to the grocery store.
I tense up when I see who's standing in my classroom doorway. Principal Lane. When I was a student here, he was the guidance counselor. Now, he's a principal with feelings, always wanting to resolve issues in a healthy way and such.
"What?" I growl.
He doesn't come in; which means what he's got to say will be quick and final. I tense up even more.
"Give the girl a dance." He says, and then he leaves.
I throw the rest of my sandwich in the garbage. No longer hungry. Why should I have to suffer because Tori Vega wants a freakin' dance?
Why?
But I'm a good actress. I act like I'm okay. Like I'm not pissed the hell off.
My students are none the wiser.
Tori Vega is none the wiser.
She sits in my classroom, the last period of the day, with a smile aimed at me. I try my best not to glare at her as I'm a professional, but I think I slip up a couple of times. I don't think she notices. She keeps smiling at me; but then again, she could be smiling because she knows she got her way.
The thought irritates me on a whole new level. I'm surprised there isn't smoke coming out of my ears by the end of the class.
Five more minutes, Jade. Just five more minutes.
All of my students are packing up, getting ready to leave. There are five more minutes left, but they like to get ready early. Well, Tori isn't packing up, and I get this sneaking feeling that she's gonna try and corner me again, like she did Friday.
I don't know what for. She got what she wanted. There'll be a stupid dance.
Then a thought occurs to me. What if she wants to go over plans for the dance? Like decorating plans and stuff.
She does, I know it. And I have no time to waste on that kind of stuff. She wanted this dance so bad, she can figure it out on her own.
I pack up my briefcase and I'm out of class just seconds before the last bell rings. Teachers don't do that. I know, but I don't care.
I disappear into the most useless contraption in this school. The elevator. There are only two floors here at Hollywood Arts, and we don't have a single student in a wheelchair right now. But this is the only way to avoid the swarm of students emptying their classrooms.
Then one student slides in just as the elevator door closes.
Tori.
Dammit!
"Ms. West?" She pants, making it completely obvious that she ran after me.
"What?" I snap back, professionalism be damned. "Why are you following me now? Principal Lane visited me this afternoon. You have permission to do the stupid dance!"
"He did?" She frowns. "How'd he know I wanted a dance?"
I gape at her. It wasn't her who told him? Then who the hell did?
Suddenly the elevator stops and I snap my mouth shut before turning my body toward the door, away from my student.
"If you really don't want to do the dance…" she trails off behind me.
I ignore her in favor of waiting for the door to open. But it doesn't. I mash a few buttons, but nothing. The door still stays closed.
Seriously? There are only two freakin floors and this stupid elevator can't handle 'em?
"It's really not that big of a deal." Tori continues behind me.
I continue to ignore her, mashing the buttons a few more times before calling it quits.
"What's going on?" She asks, finally noticing the elevator doors haven't opened.
"Elevator's broken." I answer while pulling my phone out and dialing Lane's number.
There's a sharp gasp from Tori. Then she mutters, "I can't be in here anymore."
"Too bad." I shrug.
She pushes passed me and starts mashing the buttons frantically. I'd tell her I already tried that but I get the feeling she won't hear me. She looks panicked. More than panicked, actually. She looks like she's having some kind of….shit, she's claustrophobic!
"Lane!" I bark into my phone the second he answers my call. "The elevator's broken!"
"No need to yell, Jade. I'll get someone on it soon." He answers calmly, almost soothingly.
Damn guidance counselors.
"No! I need someone on it now! There's another student in here with me!" I yell urgently.
"Jade…"
"She's claustrophobic!" I hiss, explaining the gravity of the situation.
At that moment, Tori sits down and squeezes her eyes shut. My eyes are drawn to her chest, the way it's heaving up and down so violently freaks me out a bit.
"Lane, you gotta get this kid outta here." I panic.
"Jade, listen to me. You have to calm her down."
"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"
"Find a way, Jade."
I look over at Tori. She still has her eyes screwed shut, and she's still doing that heavy breathing thing. "Tori, calm down!" I snap at her.
"A little more reassuringly, Jade."
"Why don't you do it?" I yell back at him.
"Because I'm not there, you are." He answers calmly.
Ugh!
I take a deep breath. "It's okay, Tori. Just, I don't know…think wide open spaces or something." I say.
"Shut up!" she hisses back at me.
My jaw drops for a second, but only for a second. "Lane, come get this kid now before I kill her!" I hiss into my phone.
"Jade, calm down. You're the adult. Go to her. Comfort her. You can do this." He cheers me on.
But I can't do this.
"I don't touch my students!"
"Jade, there's an exception to every rule."
I hang up on him.
There's an exception to every rule my ass. Well, I acknowledge that there really is an exception to every rule, but I'll be damned if Tori Vega is that exception. I already have an unprofessional attraction to her, and now I'm supposed to do what? Rub her back and whisper comforting encouragement into her ear.
I think I'll pass.
I sit down as far away from my student I can manage in this tiny space. I can't do what Lane wants me to do. I've got a strong will, but it's not Iron.
Truth is, I know I could have Tori if I wanted. She wouldn't be very hard to seduce. She craves attention, especially from me for some reason. I've noticed that.
If I was to finally give it to her, she'd be mine. Regardless of what she thinks her sexual orientation is. Most straight girls don't know they're gay until another girl gets in her pants.
I bet only three minutes have gone by so far, but it feels like so much longer. Mainly because of Tori's breathing. It's loud and unsettling. The way she's gasping for air is so hard to ignore.
Poor baby, but I can't go to her.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
It stops eventually, the loud breathing, but only to be replaced by something else. Something worse.
It's gotten quieter, her breathing. Much quieter, but I hear a bit of a wheeze now, and it's followed by these small hitches.
The hitches are consistent, coming every second…
My heart starts to pound. That's not normal.
They start coming every two seconds…
My hands itch to cover up my ears, but I make fists in my lap instead.
They start coming every five seconds…
I'm barely breathing, just listening to her. This is driving me insane.
Every seven seconds…
Jesus! It's getting worse.
Every sixteen seconds…
It's like…It's like I'm listening to her die.
Every one, two, three…I count twenty seconds.
My eyes fly open and I scramble over to her. She's lying down now, curled up on her side. Eyes shut, sweating, and shivering. What the hell? This has got to be more than just claustrophobia.
I hover over her, on my hands and knees. I still don't touch. I can't touch.
That would be bad.
Wrong.
"Tori." I whisper. "Breathe."
"Go… away." She wheezes with great difficulty. "You don't… care."
"Tori-" I try again, but she cuts me off.
"I'm…"
Wheeze.
"Fine…"
Hitch.
"Ms.…"
Wheeze.
"West."
I don't even think about it. I pull the top half of Tori into my lap, fitting the back of her neck into the crook of my elbow easily. She's so pale, her eyes vacant, unseeing. I swear she's stopped breathing. And I'm scared shitless.
"Breathe for me, baby." I demand, almost forcefully.
Her eyes change, focus. She's looking at me. Directly into my eyes. And then she takes a deep, rattling, breath and slowly exhales.
I breathe a small sigh of relief.
"Good girl." I croon. My free hand goes up to her face, taking hold of her chin. A silent demand for her to stay just like that, to keep looking at me.
She complies, giving me her undivided attention. She barely even blinks.
"Again." I command.
She does as I say. Taking a huge gulp of air, and there's no rattling in her chest this time. I nearly smile with pure relief.
I lower my hand. Rest it on her chest so I can feel her breathe.
"Again." I whisper.
It's the last time I have to say it. Because she starts breathing on her own. Huge deep breaths until she's gradually able to breathe regularly.
"Good." I encourage her. "Good job, baby." My mind's screaming at me to stop calling her that. Call her Tori, it corrects. Call her Vega. Hell, call her Ms. Tori, Ms. Vega, or even Ms. Tori Vega, but stop calling her baby because it's inappropriate. Because it's wrong.
Wrong.
"Good girl. Just keep breathing, baby." I murmur, ignoring my common sense. It doesn't matter anymore anyway. This won't be the last time I touch Tori Vega.
I know it won't.
{~~~O~~~}
I find myself sitting outside the building again.
I shouldn't go in.
I know it.
It's wrong.
That thing I need, the thing that's inside….it's wrong.
But I turn off my car.
Turn it back on, Jade.
I unbuckle my seatbelt.
Buckle yourself back in, Jade.
I open my door.
Shut your door, Jade.
I step out.
Get back in, Jade.
I stand.
Sit down, Jade.
I shut my door.
Open your door back up, Jade.
Lock my door.
Wrong, Jade.
I walk.
Stop, Jade.
And I walk into Toys X Us, the most popular adult store in all of L.A.
Go back Jade. It's not too late.
But it is.
It's too late to go back.