Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious.

Chapter One
Call Me Maybe

As a junior at one of the best performing arts colleges in the country—Hollywood Arts Universtiy—you'd think Victoria "Tori" Vega would be a little more confident in herself. That she could walk into a group of people she had never met and easily charm her way into their hearts. To be involved in the film, music, or theatre industries, one had to have a certain...air to them. One that came off as strong and outgoing. A real people person.

Instead, the brunette walked into her first class of the day—the last acting class she was required to take—with shaking hands and a nervous smile. She had completely forgotten about the "gen. ed." class; the last time she'd taken a acting elective was in her first semester of freshman year. Because of this, she recognized no one, except a couple of people that had tried out for parts in musicals and used the music building's stage to practice. It did not inspire confidence that none of them seemed to recognize her, either. Not that she expected them to.

She was too used to the easy-going manner of the music program and its students. She had been so surrounded by it for the last two-and-a-half years that she almost forgot about the other possible majors in the school. Now, she noticed dramatic expressions of interest from the other girls in the room as they whispered animatedly behind their hands.

The smiles they threw her looked genuine, but that was the thing about actors; they were trained to trick you into believing something that wasn't true. And something about them made her think that they were making fun of her.

Glancing around the slightly cramped room, she tried to find a seat that was relatively out of the way, something to keep her under the radar, at least. She really didn't want the professor to pick on her if he did decide to pick "volunteers"; the more inconspicuous she could be in a class that she didn't really want to be in, the better.

"Excuse me, but are you in the right room?"

Jumping slightly, she spun on her heel, coffee in one hand and books tucked under the other arm. She nearly slammed into the guy who had spoken then—a tall, well-muscled guy—and let her head fall back to catch his eyes, opening her mouth to apologize.

Holy. Crap.

Olive skin paired well with his shiny black hair, which waved in its long state. Dark eyes flashed with kindness and a white, even smile lingered on his face. Handsome? Hell yes he was. And his clothes were the perfect style and fit to show off his great physique. Though he was in no way a body builder, it was obvious that he knew his way around a gym with a build that most other men would probably kill for. Was that drool coming out of her mouth?

"Uhm...uh...this is," she began, shifting everything in her arms around to check her handwritten schedule once more, "...Acting On Stage 216 with Professor Sikowitz, isn't it?" Tori chewed nervously on her lip, hoping she hadn't made such a mistake in front of all the snooty girls that she knew were still watching her. Please, please, let this be the right room, she thought. This has got to be the right place; Andre gave me the directions to get here!

He smiled down at her and her heart beat wildly in her chest. Why had she decided to go comfy today? Of all the days to wear her complete geek outfit, it had to be the day she talked to a guy that looked like he'd walked right off a magazine spread! Sweatpants and old tennis shoes paired with a Homecoming T-shirt from her sophomore year in high school wasn't her best choice. And piling all of her long, chocolate brown hair on top of her head wasn't her most glamorous look. But she'd woken up late and didn't want to waste any time putting on makeup or picking out something awesome. Instead, she'd put on her glasses, the first thing that she grabbed out of her closet, and hit the road.

A chuckle escaped his lips, spreading through her like wildfire and bringing a slight flush to her face. "Well, I guess you're in the right place." His smile broadened as he took in her disheveled appearance. "You just looked a little too...psyched out to be in a Sikowitz class." As she sputtered in response, he bowed low, ushering her into the second row of chairs like a true gentleman. "After you," he added huskily as he turned his gaze up to hers.

Tori blinked at him, her blush growing steadily. "Uhm, actually I was hoping to be a little less...noticeable than that," she answered quietly as the room began filling up even further. Her eyes darted to and fro, not missing the number of pretty girls throwing flirting sideways glances towards her companion. "I think I'd rather just sit in the back," she said, starting to move around him.

The stranger rose to his full height once more, a questioning look on his face. "Have you ever had a class with Sikowitz? Going to the back of the class is like putting a huge sign over your head and offering him money to pick on you." He smiled wolfishly as she shook her head in the negative, taking a step closer to her. Leaning down just enough to confirm his presence in her space, he murmured into her ear, "A virgin, huh?"

As the heat that crept across her face exploded in redness, she was suddenly hit by a sense of deja vu. It reminded her that not all pretty people were nice, that not every boy that spoke to a girl had good intentions. She straightened, forcing her performing persona to come to the surface. She wasn't about to be made fun of. "What's that supposed to mean?" Of course, he'd hit the nail right on the head with that comment and she couldn't keep the slight shake of embarrassment in her voice.

He backed away with his hands in the air as if he were shocked by where her mind went, though he wore a shit-eating grin as he did so. "Hey, I was just talking about not being in a Sikowitz class. Everything else that you might not have experienced is none of my business." His wink, however, added a silent, "Yet," to the statement.

She went rigid, thinking back to all the times that she had been made fun of by Ryder for something like that. Anger blossomed within her, warning her that she was stepping into dangerous territory within her own mind. She needed to get a grip.

Schooling her features, she forced herself to hold the air of a queen. "Well, it was nice talking to you and all, but class starts any minute and I have yet to find a seat." Gripping her books tighter beneath her arms, she moved around him to the fourth row, far enough away to feel as if she had made her statement quite clearly.

Plopping down in the seat, she set her books on the ground next to her chair—no desks in an acting class—sipping her coffee as her stubborn gaze met his amused one. No way was she going to let that guy get the better of her! She might be blushing like a teenage girl—who could blame her?—but she was a twenty-one year old woman, damnit! She could get past all of this, she knew.

Her eyes followed him as he sat down in his own seat, directly in front of her. When he slouched comfortably, throwing his head over the back, she was a little shocked to find a grin on his lips as he watched her in return.

Don't break eye contact, she told herself, though she desperately wanted to avert her gaze. You don't believe in hypnotism, remember? So, they sat like that, her glaring at him while he showed nothing but interest. To keep herself focused on anything but how gorgeous he was—even upside down—she pictured Ryder in her head, how he had ruined her senior year in high school with nothing more than words. This guy was no better, she was sure; he was looking for a conquest, someone that would be a challenge.

Except she wasn't so susceptible to that anymore.

The backdoor to the room suddenly swung open with a bang as it hit the wall, a balding man bursting in. Her eyes immediately broke with her new annoyance as he too looked forward to sweep over the new man, immediately knowing that this was the professor she'd been waiting for.

The hair he did have was long and curly, brushing almost to his shoulders. If she hadn't known better, she'd think he was a hipster with the crazy clothes he was wearing, but some instinct told her that he was just that strange.

"Hello, air-breathers!" he called in a booming voice, arms opening dramatically to welcome them. He took the step onto the stage with routine ease, turning to the class. Squinting at them, he said loudly, "I see quite a few of you from my other classes. Good! But for everyone else, I am"—he gave an exaggerated bow—"Sikowitz."

She snuck glances around the room, trying to pick out the faces of any other newbies. Unfortunately, she wasn't that terribly great at reading expressions, so she had no idea who might be as uncomfortable as she was, a possible ally within this foreign territory.

Somehow, her eyes disobeyed her and became re-glued to the back of the gorgeous guy's head, though she tried to force them away. She wasn't about to get stuck on a guy who obviously just wanted to use her. No, thank you. She'd had enough of that for a lifetime.

"So," Sikowitz continued, clapping his hands together to draw all attention back to him, "today we'll just do some quick introductions to get to know our fellow actors and actresses better! I've recently run out of coconuts and am already having withdrawal symptoms." His words were easy and crisp as he sat on the edge of the stage, watching them expectantly.

Was she the only person that didn't understand what he meant by that?

"I'll call off your name and you'll stand, give us the name you go by, your year and program, and then one quirky thing about yourself." Digging an incredibly crumpled piece of paper—the roll call page, she assumed—out of his pocket, he began calling off names, checking them off his list as they gave the necessary information. A few hadn't shown up; that meant that they were automatically dropped from the class.

She learned that she was one of the few non-actors to take a Sikowitz class. Was he really so renowned at this school? If so, why hadn't she known who he was beforehand? She'd been in a couple of the musicals over the past few years, though they required more of a head for music than acting.

Could he be the "tough" professor her Acting 101 professor had warned her class about way back when?

"Oliver comma Beckett," he announced. His head immediately shot up, instantly landing on her mystery man. "You're in two of my classes this semester, Beck? Are you sure that's wise?" He spoke as if it were an inside joke between the two of them; meaning the guy from earlier was probably BFFs with the prof.

Great.

Beck stood, hands in his pockets comfortably as her eyes dug holes in his back. "Yeah, it seemed like a good idea at the time," he answered with a shrug. Girls throughout the room tittered at the movement, as if it were the best thing they'd ever seen. Idiots, she thought to herself, though she couldn't help being intrigued by what he might say. "Anyways, I go by Beck," he said, glancing around the room. "I'm a senior in the acting program here. Something interesting about me..." He glanced over his shoulder at Tori, catching her eyes. That disarming half-smile came to his lips while his gaze held hers steadily. "I've got a thing for blushing brunettes."

Her eyes widened and blood rushed to her face once again. As every face—male and female—in the room turned towards her, she gritted her teeth, throwing Beck a glare as he sat down. Go to hell, she sent telepathically.

As if he could read her mind, he winked at her once again.

"Won't lie, Beck," Sikowitz cut in, interrupting their non-verbal battle. Everyone turned back to him, as if expecting the best reaction from him. "That was pretty personal. I like it; people find it easier to act with someone they can understand a bit."

Beck looked back to their professor with another haphazard shrug. "You asked for something quirky; I was just giving you what you asked for."

"Touche, Beckford!" Sikowitz bellowed as chuckles erupted from him. His features immediately fell into a more natural position and he went back to calling out names, drawing ever nearer to hers.

Why was her heart still beating so wildly in her chest? There was no way she could be attracted to a guy like Beck Oliver, someone who had called her out in front of the entire class—most of which seemed to be his fanclub. No, this was about what a jerk he was and how embarrassed she was. That was why she felt so hot as she remembered his husky voice as he'd breathed the dreaded V-word in her ear. It didn't have anything to do with imaginary arousal towards him.

"Victoria Vega."

Pulled from her thoughts, she hastily stood, nearly knocking over her chair in her haste. Ignoring the murmurs around her—yes, from all those girls that had smiled at her in the beginning—she once again donned her confident alterego. "I'm Tori. I'm a junior in the music program and I don't go for guys with big, hot-air-filled heads." Sitting back down, she caught Beck's laughing look and threw him an expression that was quite obvious in its no-way tendencies.

Sikowitz glanced between the two, shaking his head with confusion at the exchange. It was apparent he didn't care for young adult mating rituals in the least. Continuing with the last few names on his list, he let the class go just after Aaden Zyne said his peace, waving them off in a bored fashion. "Go off, children! Take your hormones elsewhere!"

Standing quickly, she snatched up her books, intending a hasty retreat. She wasn't even trying to pretend that she hadn't realized how stupid her little outburst had been; no doubt she was only stoking the fire. Hadn't she been told once before that a guy would back off if it was indifference that he was met with instead of hate? But that didn't mean that, for the four hours a week that she would spend in that class, she would keep letting herself get corner by Beck. No way. She was going to keep away from him as much as possible.

Besides, her embarrassment was enough for one day, wasn't it?

Tossing her empty cup of coffee away just beside the door, Tori stepped into the over-crowded hallway. It made her remember her days as a freshman as bodies slammed into her from all sides. I forgot all about the acting department being full of hustle and bustle. All of these people are constantly in competition with each other.

Gritting her teeth against the onslaught, she tried to weave her way through the hall, only to have an Amazon warrior slam into her head on, knocking one of her books from its careful perch beneath her arm.

She sighed, starting to bend to pick it up when a now-annoyingly-familiar head bent, snatching it off the floor.

After a moment, Beck straightened, holding the book out for her to take. "Dropped something," he said, stepping closer to her to help block the flow of students. His eyes searched hers hesitantly, though the rest of his face was grinning coolly. "I don't suppose you'd like to reward my chivalrous actions with a quick coffee date?"

Was that a hopeful light in his face?

She felt the word "yes" on her tongue, just about to dive off the tip. Stopping herself, she wondered if she could really believe that he was different. Wasn't every guy always "different" until he pushed a girl too far? And did she even really want to go out on any sort of date with Beck Oliver, even a friendly coffee date?

Shaking her head, she brought her books closer to her chest. "Sorry," she apologized insincerely. "I've got a class in just a few minutes. Gotta go." Then she blended into the crowd, running away.

Knowing that he was aware of her cowardice—since, technically, Sikowitz's class wasn't done for another half-hour—she still fled, going into the library. She found one of the solo study computers in a back room, locking herself inside.

But when she put her books down on the table, she noticed a small piece of folded paper tucked inside one, barely poking out enough for her to notice. Quickly, she pulled it out, wondering if maybe it was something left within from a previous owner.

Just in case you change your mind, Tori Vega.
Beck
xxx-xxx-xxxx

Eyes wide, she stuffed the paper into her pocket hastily, feeling that burning come back to her face. How had he known that she would say no? There was no way he'd gotten that note in there after she'd turned him down, no way he'd written it. Was she really so easy to read?

Would she actually text him?