A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so much for the feedback! I'm glad you guys seem to like it so far. :)
Chapter Two
On Tuesday Christine had her Spanish class, her biology class, and her music humanities class. Her last class didn't end until 4:10 though, which put her in the rather inconvenient position as having to haul ass to make it to work by 5:00.
The necessity of work was rather annoying.
The plan had always been a little less rocky as Christine was growing up. She was the only child of Katherine and Gustave Daaé, and while they had not been rich, they had lived comfortably and put money aside for their only daughter's college education.
In Christine's senior year of high school her father lost his job, but her college plans had been untouched; he would get another job and all would be well. Only Gustave couldn't find another job, and he had the most terrible habit of impulse that when he got stressed out, he went out and randomly made large purchases that he didn't really need. From the time he lost his job in October to several months later in April, he had purchased a big screen television, a new computer, a new truck, and a boat. Once he got the boat he realized he needed a trailer, and by the time he bought the trailer the bank was sending warnings that their house was going to be foreclosed on if they didn't immediately receive back payments.
Katherine had an office job working 30 hours a week, but it was low-paying and certainly couldn't sustain them even if Gustave hadn't made so many foolish purchases.
All the stress—and his poor eating habits—came to a head shortly after Christine's high school graduation when Gustave was rushed to the emergency room with cardiac arrest. They rushed him in for surgery, but he had two heart attacks on the operating table and he died the same night. He did have a life insurance policy, but by the time Katherine used it to pay funeral costs and to pay all the debts they had accumulated so quickly, there was barely enough left to pay the bank enough money to keep the house from being foreclosed on.
The money that had been set aside for Christine's college fun had been severely dented—there was still around $8,000 left, but that wasn't going to cover it—and Katherine had to leave the job she had been at for ten years to seek full-time employment that paid better at a different company that she immediately hated.
Obviously there was no money left for Christine's education, and the $8,000 that had been saved was certainly not going to buy her a bachelor's degree. With her grades, she was able to get some financial assistance, but even taking out loans for tuition there was still the cost of living to consider. With everything that had gone on, Christine lived at home with her mother instead of at the dorms, but that left her with the additional time and cost of commuting into the city for classes as well as the occasional need to pitch in for rent when her mother couldn't cut it—which was most months.
That didn't make Tuesdays and Thursdays any more bearable.
She had to make her way into the city in the morning to make it to class, she spent all afternoon in her classes, and then she had to hustle to get to the restaurant where she hostessed from 5 to 11 pm. Making her way home alone at 11 pm wasn't something that Christine was comfortable with at any rate, but especially considering she had class again bright and early the next morning. She was off Thursday night, so she would be able to relax, do some homework, maybe some laundry, and then Friday she had to go back to the city just to take the intimidating music theory class and then to work 2:30 to 9:30, but after that she had already promised to hang out with Meg.
Her schedule was already so full, and it was only the first week.
Since the week was so busy, it floated right by, and Friday was there.
Her musical theory class, despite its strict professor, was already turning out to be one of her favorites. Yes, he was pretty strict and he loved rules a little too much, but he seemed to know so much that she couldn't help being fascinated. His class—not even to full capacity to begin with containing only 16 students—was cut precisely in half by Friday.
When he called attendance—a full minute late, which Christine found surprising—his lips had curved up in a smile when he saw that he had only 8 students in attendance.
"Well, congratulations for making it this far," he had told them.
Much to his surprise, Christine and Carlotta—the late ones—were also 2 of the 8 still standing.
Friday was the day of their first quiz. He lectured for the first 15 minutes—because he was evil that way—and then he asked everyone to put their notes away and keep out only a pencil. He assured them that since he wouldn't be grading on a curve, if they had any questions while they took their interval quiz they were more than welcome to raise their hand and he would come help since it was the first one.
Christine hated herself a little when she made it to the second bar of the quiz and got tripped up. She glanced up to where he sat behind the table, marking notes down on papers in front of him. Even though he had told them they could ask questions, she was afraid he would think she was stupid for already drawing a blank.
She decided just to take the chance of looking stupid though, because it wasn't like she could make it up with extra credit if she kept her mouth shut and bombed the test.
Raising her hand a bit shyly, his gaze immediately snapped up to her when he caught sight of the motion.
Pushing his chair back, he stood and walked over to Christine, raising his left eyebrow questioningly. "Did you have a question, Miss Daaé?" he asked quietly.
Biting her lip, she nodded apologetically and pointed to the paper. "I hate to ask you, but I don't want to get a bad grade."
Smiling slightly, he assured her, "My bark is worse than my bite." Then, walking around the table to stand beside her, he absently placed his hand on her shoulder to lean down and look at her paper.
Christine was caught quite unaware by the jolt of electricity that shot through her at the innocent brush of his hand on her shoulder and judging by the way he immediately stiffened and dropped his hand to the back of her chair, he had felt it, too.
Clearing his throat, he said, "Which one's giving you the problem?"
Staring at him blankly, she was momentarily dumbfounded by his question. Her eyes got distracted in those impossibly golden eyes of his, so unnaturally close to her. Up at the podium he was impressive and vaguely intimidating—an aura of power and knowledge emanating around his person. Leaning in close enough that Christine could smell his cologne… well, it was a whole different story.
Shaking herself slightly, she forced herself to turn and look back down at the paper, and for a minute she felt like she was going to break out into a sweat trying to find the bar she had been looking at.
Finally she jabbed her finger in the direction of the troublesome interval and managed, "Is that M6?"
Smiling slightly, Erik shook his head and said, "No." Then, leaning in even closer, he removed the pencil from her hand and erased it for her.
Her heart skipped, and she vaguely realized that he was quietly explaining the correct answer and why it was the correct answer, but all she could focus on was how close his face was to hers. It was completely inappropriate, but her vision felt vaguely fuzzy, she was paying more attention to how amazing he smelled and how the hand he was resting on the back of her chair kept lightly brushing against her back…
"Do you see?" he asked, his golden eyes meeting her coffee brown ones.
"Uh huh," she said, nodding dumbly, not even looking at the paper.
He bit back a smile and said, "You might want to… look."
Flushing several different shades of red, she jerked her gaze to the paper and said, "Right. Sorry. I'm looking… where I'm supposed to now."
His hand brushed her back again and she swallowed.
Once more he gave her the right answer, and that time she actually heard him, so she wrote it down on the paper beneath the bar.
"I don't know why I didn't know that, "she told him, shaking her head. "I did know that."
"It's okay," he said easily. "Sometimes your brain just freezes up—especially when your teacher's being rough on you."
It sounded dirty. She knew he probably hadn't meant it to, but considering the train of her thoughts, the words "being rough on you" coming from his lips made her think wholly inappropriate things.
Unsure of whether or not he really expected her to agree with him on that, she raised her eyebrows and glanced up at him.
He smiled.
Her heart somersaulted.
Inwardly groaning, she told herself she would not develop a crush on her music teacher.
His left hand was on her shoulder again, offering her a little reassuring pat. "You'll do fine."
She looked at his hand, but that time she realized she was looking—quite pointlessly!—to see if he was wearing a wedding band. He was not, and that pleased her.
"And hey, if you do need a little more help with any of this stuff, my office hours are in the syllabus, I'm generally always available to help out my students. I expect near perfection, and I don't mind giving extra instruction where it's needed."
"I know scales, I don't know why… I guess it's just been so long since I've practiced any of this…"
Nodding, he said, "Well, like I said. I'm your teacher, that's what I'm here for."
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," she returned with a slight smile.
He walked back to his table then, taking a seat, and Christine found herself watching him—until he sat down and looked at her, totally catching her stare—and feeling less intimidated than she had before.
Well, by him.
Her stupid whim of being attracted to her professor was probably something to be a little intimidated by, especially since her brain felt scrambled and she kept wanting to steal glances at him.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Christine shook her head slightly, forcing her brain to forget the electricity jolt and forget that Erik could apparently be pleasant instead of scary, and she returned her attention to painstakingly identifying scales and completing her quiz.
When she finished the test, she realized she was the first person to finish, and she wondered if perhaps she had missed something. Everyone else was still frowning in concentration—aside from Carlotta, who pushed back her chair as loudly as she could and practically raced to the front of the room so she could turn her test in before Christine had gathered her things.
Carlotta looked over her shoulder as Christine came up behind her and flashed her a haughty little smirk, as if it actually mattered who turned their test in first.
Christine found herself hoping that Carlotta had missed the "properties of sound" section, which had been fill-in-the-blank and on the back of the sheet.
With that, Carlotta strutted out of the room for no apparent reason and Christine fought down a rather immediate wave of dislike.
Christine noticed that Erik merely nodded silently when Carlotta gave him her test, but when Christine handed it in he leaned forward and quietly asked, "You saw that there's a back, right?"
Smiling, she whispered back, "Yeah."
"Good," he replied, nodding and flipping Carlotta's test over innocently enough to reveal an empty fill-in-the-blank section.
Christine's smile widened a little and she offered, "See you Monday."
He nodded, placing her test over Carlotta's and watched her walk to the door.
Once she got outside and down the hall a bit, she withdrew her cell phone from her purse and dialed Meg's number.
"Hey, what's up?"
"You're going to be so proud of me," Christine told her.
"I am?" Meg asked excitedly. "Did you decide to ditch cynical practicality and follow your dreams?"
"Well, no."
"Did you decide that you and I should get an apartment in the city so I don't have to live with my retching roommate and you don't have to commute like five hours each way every day?"
"No."
"Are you going on a date?"
"No, but stop guessing."
"Sorry, I'm all ears."
Sighing, Christine said, "I think I have a crush on one of my professors."
-o-
Christine met Meg outside of her apartment after work that night wearing a trench coat.
Meg burst into laughter when she saw her friend, but Christine explained that since she was dressed rather scantily, she thought wearing a trench coat was a good way of avoiding getting raped on the way there.
Meg ceded the point, but apparently felt no hesitation in leaving the apartment building in her three inch mini-skirt, see through shirt, and four inch heels.
"I swear, you would think I would get sick of dancing at some point, but no."
Shaking her head, Christine said, "I would just think you wouldn't want to dance in those shoes. They look painful."
"Oh, they're so gorgeous though," she said, looking down to admire her own shoes as they walked. "My mom's mister bought them for me for my birthday. She told me when we went to lunch the other day that she's thinking about dumping him, but I advised her that any man who buys me shoes like this is a keeper."
Rolling her eyes, Christine said, "Maybe you should date him then."
"Nah, he's old enough to be my dad." Brightening, she said, "Speaking of, how old is The Naughty Professor?"
Groaning, Christine said, "I wish you would stop calling him that. It's a stupid nickname, it sounds like a porno, and he is not a naughty professor. He's a very good professor, just strict."
"Is he young? You said he isn't married. Probably divorced," she decided with a nod.
"I don't know, it's kind of hard to tell how old he is with half of his face hidden. Since he does have a PhD I imagine he isn't young, but probably somewhere past 30 and before 40."
"Does he have gray hair?"
"No," Christine replied, shaking her head. "His hair's really dark, almost black."
"And you don't find the mask thing kind of weird? I mean, he's a college professor, not Zorro. I would think it would be weird."
"No, the mask is made out of this like… gauze cloth type of material and honestly I've only been in his class three times and I already feel like it's just a part of his face. It's not a theatrical mask or anything, it's more or less the same color as his skin and it kind of blends in, so he doesn't look weird."
"Maybe he's recovering from plastic surgery or something and it's temporary," Meg suggested.
Making a face, Christine said, "I would like to think he didn't get plastic surgery on half of his face."
"That's true," Meg agreed with a nod.
"Anyway, I like the mask. It's different. I think it adds to that aura of mysterious power that he seems to have."
Chuckling, Meg said, "I so thoroughly approve of you having the hots for your professor."
"I knew you would," Christine replied with a satisfied nod. "Do you have any love interests yet?"
Making a face, Meg said, "No. There's one really hot guy in one of my dance classes, I seriously almost convulsed from the hotness the moment I saw him, but the jerk is gay. So… he isn't going to be asking me out anytime soon."
"Yeah, you'll have that sometimes."
"It just isn't fair," Meg replied, shaking her head. "It's okay though, I'm going to be busy enough this semester. Did I tell you I got that children's theater internship? I'm going to be spending a good chunk of this semester helping little kids rehearse Annie and I get to dance on stage for one of the adult scenes. I'm going to be shown around a bit behind the scenes, too."
"You didn't tell me that. That's awesome, Meg! I'm so happy for you!"
Flashing a smile, Meg said, "I was pleased. It's going to be playing from the last week in November through December; I'll have to get you a ticket to at least one of the shows so you can watch. I mean, it's not the best internship ever, but I figured it's a start, you know?"
"No, definitely. It's great that you're doing some sort of interning—anything helps."
Bach began to play from somewhere in the vicinity of Christine's purse and she frowned, unzipping it and fishing around for her phone.
"Who's calling you?" Meg asked, puzzled. "I'm with you and your mom knows you're out."
Rolling her eyes, Christine said, "I do have a slightly larger social circle than that." Once she had her phone she looked at the name flashing across the screen and saw, "Scarecrow."
Unable to help herself, Christine started laughing as she opened her phone, "You put your name in my phone as Scarecrow?"
"I figured I had a better chance of you remembering me that way," Raoul joked.
"Am I Dorothy in yours?"
"Naturally," he replied easily. "So, what are you up to this fine Friday night?"
"Um… I'm walking right now. My friend Meg and I are heading to this club where her ex-boyfriend works."
"Oh yeah? Me and a few of my friends are heading out soon, too. We're going to Majesté; you guys should come meet us there after you leave your club."
"Oh, that's… we aren't really club-hoppers. We'll probably just go see Jason, sip a martini, and head back home to—"
Meg elbowed Christine swiftly in the ribs, scowling and shaking her head, hissing, "Who is that? Where are we being invited?"
Covering the phone, Christine whispered back, "This jock guy I did community theater with when I was a kid. He wants us to go to some place called Majesté with him and his friends."
Eyes widening, Meg jabbed her friend in the ribs again, that time unnecessarily. "Tell him yes and stop being such a prude!"
Raoul kind of laughed on the other end of the phone and Christine flushed, wondering if perhaps he had heard the interaction. Probably just covering the phone wasn't the most discreet thing to do.
"Come on, it'll be fun. I'll buy you both a drink. If the company is that bad, you can leave after that."
"Neither of us is old enough to drink," Christine stated. "Jason gives us a martini because he used to date Meg, but other clubs aren't going to serve us."
"Christine, my brother owns Majesté; I assure you, I will be able to able to procure a couple of martinis."
"Oh," she said dumbly. "Well, how much is the cover?"
"No cover," he said. "Just give them my name at the door, tell them you're my guests, and you won't have to pay anything to get in."
No cover charge on a Friday night was vaguely enticing, and at Meg's vigorous nods Christine finally said, "Well, okay. What time should we be there?"
"I'll be there by 11, so any time after that."
"All right, I guess we'll see you there then."
Raoul gave her directions in case she didn't know where the club was and then they hung up and she slipped her phone back in her purse.
Meg gave her another elbow to the ribs.
Glaring at her best friend, Christine said, "Would you quit that?"
"You've been holding out on me," Meg accused. "You tell me about The Naughty Professor but you don't tell me about the jock?"
"I didn't even think he'd really call," she replied dismissively. "I don't know if this is a good idea either. I'm dressed to go to the club with you; dressing like a whore when I'm at a club with a guy is a lot different."
"You're not dressed like a whore. Everyone dresses up to go to clubs."
"Sure, but he could be a douchebag for all I know," Christine reasoned. "Last time I saw him I hadn't even hit puberty yet."
"Well, come on, spill. How did the phone number thing happen?"
"We just ran into each other in the hall on Monday—he's actually why I was late to class and initially got off on the wrong foot with my professor. He recognized me, we talked for a minute, and then he suggested that we trade numbers. He said he'd call me later and this is the first time I heard from him; I assumed he wasn't going to call."
"When guys say they'll call you later it never really means later, it means whenever."
"Whatever," Christine replied, shaking her head.
"Is he cute?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
Meg's eyebrows shot up. "You guess?"
"He is cute, I just… I don't know, I don't really find myself attracted to guys I don't know. He's amusing, but I don't know if we really have anything in common."
"Well, you don't have to marry him or anything, but you're young, Christine; let the cute guy buy you drinks and flirt with you."
Shaking her head with a little smile, Christine looped her arms through her friend's and said, "Come on, we better go tell Jason you aren't going to stick around and flirt with him tonight."
-o-
:)