A/N: Hey guys! So, let me begin by saying thank you for your feedback! Much appreciated, as always. :)

Also, it's been brought to my attention that I overgeneralized in the beginning of my story, so let me clarify one thing. I imagine Emmy Rossum as my Christine in terms of how she looks (the physical description of Christine can be fuzzy-is she blonde? does she have blue eyes? is she brunette? does she have brown eyes?-because there have been so many Christines. It was totally an oversight of my part-I meant her characterization physically as well as her openness to Erik, but NOT her voice. Many Christines are half afraid of him (and sometimes, their own shadow), and I was only thinking of the people who were inevitably going to read the first two chapters and then send me a scathing review informing me that Christine likes Erik too much, in the story she was more cautious, yada yada yada. I was attempting to avoid having to say fifty million times, "THIS IS A MODERN RETELLING, MODERN GIRLS ARE NOT SO EASILY COWED, WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP?" As... it isn't polite. :) Stupidly NEVER thought of the voice issue. (I know, duh. I can't even believe I did that.) Anyway, Christine's voice in my story is as Christine is described in the original stories that I liked-vocally gifted. Emmy Rossum does have a nice voice, sure, but... it's really not up to the standard I would have thought the real Erik(s) would have had. :)

Broken-Vow: In response to Erik's music selection, yes, he does intend to knock her socks off with, "Hey, I'm going to teach you to hit this really impossible note in this really difficult aria in a language you don't even understand." Lol, because he's just that diabolical. (See scene in the next chapter, when they finally have their first voice lesson.) However, he does not expect her to nail it on her first try-or even in the near future. Erik's overall goal is to get Christine to switch her major/career path and train her voice in earnest. He doesn't expect her to be able to sing the Queen of the Night aria right now, but by the time he's finished tutoring her, he expects her to be able to. Since you obviously know how difficult that is—and up till now, Christine does not—you know that's no small feat. That being said, this is Erik we're talking about, and I imagine him to be highly driven in terms of music. As far as her being a natural, I don't mean that she could naturally sing the aria in this chapter, and I'm mostly taking the "Christine has a pure instrument, oohh, aahh" thing from the original Phantom plots, but I also tend to think some people must be born with some kind of superior potential; I watched a video of a 14-year-old singing the Queen of the Night aria and was duly blown away. I also picked The Magic Flute because I saw that Juilliard was doing a performance of it, and I'm going to bring Julliard into the plot later. Anyway, thanks for your input! :)


-o-


"Why are you making me do this? Have I not been a good friend to you over the years?"

Giving his friend a rather impatient look, Erik said, "I couldn't just show up on my own, it would look like…"

"Like you're stalking the young woman?" Nadir suggested, eyebrows rising. "Is that not precisely what you're doing?"

"No, of course not," Erik said dismissively as he glanced down at his untouched drink.

Nadir sighed, glancing around him at the crowd of people, many of them younger, but some of them trendy professionals, sitting at the bar and drinking as they talked with their friends.

"Majesté is a stupid name for a bar," Erik murmured, tilting his face away again as the woman next to him noticed his mask and began to peer at him rather rudely.

Leaning against the bar and looking at his friend, Nadir raised one black expectant eyebrow at his friend. "Tell me why I am here, my friend. Stalking protégés is not really a habit you've developed, is it?"

"Not all of them," Erik stated. "And I'm not stalking her. She invited me to come if I was out."

"And naturally being the party animal that you are, you were out and about? Is that why you had to drag me here as a cover?"

"You're not my cover. Can't I buy a friend a drink?"

"You could, of course, if I liked to drink. Since you know I do not, I am not foolish enough to believe that's why I'm here, nor are you foolish enough to think I would believe that. What are you doing, Erik?"

Not particularly caring for the seriousness of Nadir's inquiry, Erik shifted his gaze to his glass, picking it up and tilting it back for a taste of the bitter liquid. Grimacing, he sat the glass back down and said, "I'll never understand why people drink."

"I can only assume it is because everyone has a friend like you," Nadir said dryly.

Smiling slightly, Erik said, "Most people aren't so lucky."

Snorting, Nadir said, "Yes, I'm sure it is luck."

Deciding it was time to change the subject, Erik asked, "Did you enjoy California?"

"Strangely enough, it was hot. It was nice, I suppose, running everything. The only way I am allowed to call any shots is when your obstinate presence is absent."

"I'm called that a lot lately," Erik remarked.

"Well, it is because you are obstinate. Did you read my report today on the project?"

Shaking his head, Erik said, "No, I didn't get around to it."

"How unlike you. What were you doing that was so important?"

Instead of answering him, Erik merely slanted his friend a sideways glance. "Well, since you're here now, why don't you tell me how it went."

In a droll tone, Nadir said, "Production is now ahead and costs are well below budget; if you want details, you may read them in the report that I spent hours preparing for you."

Sighing, Erik said, "I'll do it tomorrow, Nadir. You're such an old woman sometimes."

-o-

Christine had finished her second martini before Raoul's hand got a little brave and came to rest on her thigh.

Smiling slightly as she drained the rest of her glass, she pointedly looked down at his hand.

Unfortunately, he wasn't paying a lick of attention to her—was instead laughing at something one of his friends across the table said—so he didn't even catch her gesture. Giving an audible sigh, she moved her leg so that it was completely pressed against the other, hoping it would dislodge his hand from her bare thigh, but his hand just floated with it, and suddenly his hand was resting so that one thigh was covered by his hand, and his finger tips were lightly brushing her other one, also.

Unfortunately that caught his attention, as it would have had to feel like Christine intentionally spilled his hand into her lap.

Turning an affectionate smile on Christine, Raoul's finger lightly curved downward, his fingers wrapping around and caressing the inside of her thigh, then his other hand came up to her face, gently running the back of his fingers down her jaw line.

Feigning coyness, Christine offered a light smile but turned her face away, shifting her legs again in another attempt to get him to stop touching her. It wasn't that he made her necessarily uncomfortable, she just didn't want him getting any ideas of trying anything further.

Chuckling, Raoul murmured affectionately, "Little minx. Philippe said you're as charming as he remembered you."

"I was awkward when he met me before, never charming. Perhaps he meant it as a subtle insult," she joked.

"My family always liked you," Raoul remarked. "Do you remember my mother sending you flowers on the opening night of The Wizard of Oz? You were so excited, no one had ever given you flowers before."

Smiling at the memory, Christine said, "Yeah, that was so nice. I'll never forget how excited I was to get flowers like a real leading lady."

"When is your first chorus concert? I'll send you flowers and make you feel like a leading lady again."

Unable to censor her reaction, her eyes widened at the mere thought of getting flowers from Raoul in front of Erik and before she could even think about it, she said, "No!"

Looking a little offended, Raoul frowned.

Offering a smile to take the sting out of her vehement objection to his kind gesture, she said, "I'm not the leading lady this time, I'm only one voice among many. Flowers are completely unnecessary."

His frown eased, but she could tell he didn't completely believe all that vehemence was just because she wasn't the leading lady.

Before he pressed anymore, she indicated her empty glass and said, "Can you let me out? I have to use the restroom."

"Want me to grab you another one while you're gone?" he offered.

"No, I'm okay," she said, glancing over at Meg to summon her, but Meg wasn't paying attention, she was smiling and relaxing against Conor. Killing that idea, Christine scooted out of the booth by herself and tugged the ultra mini skirt down, cursing herself for the millionth time for letting Meg dress her.

Stumbling a little over her own feet, Christine started as Raoul's hand shot out to steady her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I do not need assistance to walk to the bathroom, thank you very much," she informed him, pulling out of his grasp and trying to walk in an even line so that she didn't trip over her stupid heels and fall flat on her face. Unfortunately, when she gave Meg leave to dress her, Meg had also chosen the shoes; why her best friend thought she should be able to walk after drinking in high heels was quite beyond Christine.

She made it several feet away from the table and nearly approached the little hall that led to the bathrooms, but she was brought to a dead stop when she spotted the masked man sitting at the bar, facing her and her table. Eyes widening slightly, she turned to look back at her table—checking out his view—and saw that while the high back of the booth protected most of her privacy, he could definitely see them from the shoulders up.

Turning back to face him—the alcohol convincing her that of course he didn't notice that she was checking to see what he could see—she smiled a little and headed over to the bar.

It didn't immediately occur to her—especially in her less observant state—that the man next to him was there with him, and she said, "When I said you should swing by if you were in the area, I thought you would at least say hello."

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "I didn't want to interrupt."

She lost her own smile, wondering what precisely he meant by that. How long had he been sitting there with a perfect view of her table? How much had he seen? Searching her memory, she tried desperately to remember if Raoul had kissed her yet.

"You wouldn't have been interrupting," she said kind of quietly, instinctively moving closer to him and watching what she could see of his face. It was absurd to be watching his reaction to make sure he wasn't mad at her, but that's what she felt like she was doing.

Unfortunately, she couldn't tell. She could see that he wasn't as friendly or warm to her as he usually was, but she wasn't positive about his reason. The alcohol in her veins insisted that if he was angry at her, she needed to fix it, as she liked him very, very much.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" she blurted.

"Why would I be mad?" he asked levelly.

Instead of reassuring her, his cool question only served to make her feel worse.

The man beside Erik peered around him then, offering a very thin smile and saying, "Forgive my very rude friend. I assume you are Christine Daaé? I am Nadir Khan."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, offering a little smile. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Your friend is looking for you," Erik informed Christine, nodding toward her table.

Frowning, Christine turned to look back at her table and she saw Raoul standing there looking quite ridiculous as he frowned worriedly in her direction, a pink martini—that she told him she didn't want—dangling between his fingers.

Although she wanted to shoot Raoul a dirty look for checking on her, she reluctantly stepped back away from Erik, inching toward the bathroom. "I should probably…"

Erik merely nodded.

Feeling soundly scolded—even though she hadn't been at all—Christine made her way back to the bathroom, wondering if Erik thought she was a great big skank. She had such an easy respect for him—and he had certainly proven he deserved such respect—that the thought of him thinking poorly of her was absolutely unbearable. He was her teacher, her voice instructor—he was like a guardian angel! He encouraged her dreams, forced her to prioritize, even helped her get a better job that she would enjoy so she could continue to make the same amount of money while working half the hours and even having more time for music.

He asked her to be dedicated, and she was drinking at a night club while she cuddled with a guy she didn't even like.

What the hell was she doing?

Even though she was having difficulty precisely following her own fuzzy logic, by the time she left the bathroom she decided that she owed Erik an explanation of sorts.

He was standing at the bar holding his wallet when she made her way back to him, and beneath the alcohol's influence, she felt common sense begging her to guard her tongue.

"Are you leaving?" she asked, approaching him on his side of the bar.

Glancing at her, Erik nodded his head. "Yes, I believe we've stayed long enough. Nadir and I both have to work early in the morning, so…"

Since she didn't see Nadir, she guessed he must have either left already or he had stepped away for a moment. That suited her just fine.

"Um… I'm really sorry I didn't notice you here earlier. Have you been here long?"

"Not long. It's perfectly fine, I was coming out for a drink with Nadir tonight anyway, I only stopped by because I hadn't been here before."

His voice sounded so guarded, and she hated it. Although she didn't mean to pout—and remind him of her age—her mouth did sort of form one. It was unclear whether she meant to say so or not, but the words spilled out, "Raoul's just… a friend."

Smiling very slightly—and very falsely—Erik assured her, "Christine, you owe me no explanation as to whom you spend your time with. I'm your teacher, unless it begins to interfere with—"

Not even letting him finish his bullshit line, she rolled her eyes and said, "I don't have dinner with any of my other teachers, Erik."

That shut him up.

Unfortunately, it also shut her up because she hadn't meant to say it.

"That… doesn't matter," she said, attempting to recover. "The point is, I respect you, and when you respect someone you want them to think well of you."

"Why wouldn't I think well of you?" he asked, his tone a little terse.

Biting down on her lip, she glanced down at her incredibly short mini skirt, her sexy top, and the fact that she knew he had been watching her—at least at intervals—sit with Raoul in the booth.

Sighing, he seemed to have watched her own evaluation of herself, and his tone softened very slightly. "You're young, Christine. You don't have to apologize for that. I have no right to… expect any more of you."

"But you can," she said, despairing a little at his words. "I'm not… this girl, not really. I mean, I like to go out with Meg and have fun, but Raoul… and… these clothes… you probably think I'm a whore, and I'm not!"

"I don't think you're a whore," he assured her, his gaze very briefly flitting over her appearance. "Your clothing… is age-appropriate."

Fighting a groan, she just closed her eyes, wishing she could rewind the night and either drink one less martini so she could think more clearly, or put on more clothing before she left Meg's apartment.

She wanted so badly to just tell him she wanted him to like her, not to think of her as someone that was too young for her, not to sit quietly in a darkened corner and watch her act her age with a guy she had no genuine feelings for.

She wanted him with a certainty she didn't even understand, and she wanted to tell him so.

Luckily, she hadn't had that much alcohol. Enough to admit it to herself without denial, sure, but not to him.

"As far as not dining with your other teachers, I did tell you up front that you were under absolutely no pressure to do that, and if I've made you feel uncomfortable at any time—"

"No, you haven't made me feel uncomfortable," she interrupted, not letting him apologize. "Don't you get it, Erik? I don't feel uncomfortable around you. I like being around you."

His lips curved up sardonically and he tossed a gaze in the direction of the booth. "It does appear that I am not the only one you like being around."

"I don't like him," she said immediately, not even pausing to think about it. "It might look bad, but I swear… my relationship with Raoul is friends only, completely platonic."

Nodding once, he asked benignly, "Do you kiss all of your friends?"

Ugh, Raoul had kissed her already. Fighting a grimace, she said, "No…?"

"As I said, Christine, you owe me no explanations."

"I'm sorry, I won't kiss him again," she said, unhappily watching Erik shove his wallet into his back pocket and begin to step around her.

"It's none of my business who you kiss."

"You don't care?" she asked quietly.

She watched his jaw clench and he paused in the act of stepping around her. Those golden orbs of his bore down into hers and for a moment she felt transfixed, completely unable to move. Then his hand was lightly at her waist, moving her away from the bar and into a darker corner against the wall. Her heart accelerated a little, and she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Why was he moving her out of the line of view of her table otherwise?

Her heart squeezed a little bit as she leaned against the wall, looking up at him as he stood so close to her. Instinctively licking her lips, she never broke his gaze.

"I am your teacher," he stated a little more harshly than any of his words before.

"We already agreed to keep that relationship separate from any other relationship," she stated.

His hand moved to rest on the wall beside her head and his face looked strained, as if he desperately wanted to throttle something… maybe her.

"What you are experiencing is a minor infatuation, and it will pass," he stated.

Frowning at his high handed conclusion of her feelings, she said, "And just how do you know what I'm feeling?"

"Do you think I haven't seen it before?" he returned, the visible eyebrow shooting up. "I haven't even been a teacher for very long, and already I can see the signs from a mile away. It isn't real, it's a phase that will pass for you."

"That's not fair. That's also not what I asked. I didn't ask you to tell me how I feel—mostly because I know how I feel better than you do—I asked you."

"Asked me what, Christine? If I have inappropriate feelings that could get me fired for a student?"

Shrinking slightly at his intense tone, she murmured, "You know I would never get you fired. You have to know me better than that."

A sound almost like a growl rumbled in his throat and he said, "It's irrelevant. You are my student and only my student. It's none of my business who you kiss and you don't need to apologize to me. If our friendship is clouding your view of our relationship…" He allowed his words to trail off, as he seemed to want to give a subtle threat to make her back off, but he didn't want to actually have to propose ending their friendship.

Shaking her head at him, she said, "Nice way to dodge my question."

He hesitated ever so slightly, and then he said firmly, "No, I don't care."

That time it was her stomach that felt squeezed, laced together with steel thread until the intensity of her disappointment made her feel physically sick.

"I don't believe that," she said, her voice small.

"Well, you should," he said unkindly. His tone was firm, and he had what she had dubbed the 'teacher voice.'

Instead of arguing with him, she bravely decided to do something else to test her theory that he was just as affected by her as she was by him. Reaching out to him, she lightly rested one of her hands on his shoulder, feeling his entire body go rigid beneath her fingertips, and brought just her index finger up to very lightly trace the edge of his slightly irregularly shaped lips. He stood stock still as she tenderly brushed her finger over the sensitive nerves surrounding his lips, and for a moment he allowed her to explore his face, watching her eyes as they found things she hadn't noticed before—like the tiny scar above his lip and below his perfect nose. Her fingers inched over toward the mask but before he had to stop her, he saw her mentally stop herself, and then her fingers snaked around his neck, toying lightly with the short hairs at the base of his neck and causing gooseflesh to rise on his body. He was almost completely transfixed until he realized that she had snaked her hand around his neck for leverage, and she was pulling her body against his. At the first brush of her body against his, he felt his will power waver; when she was pressed against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her hips fitted snugly against his he closed his eyes, his senses taking over for the moment. He could feel her breath on the unmasked side of his face, the sweet, delicate inhalation that she took as she leaned in to kiss him.

Before her lips met their mark, he snapped out of it, pulling away from her as if he had been burned.

Gasping a little in surprise, she stumbled forward, having been leaning against him for support.

Erik swallowed, his firm authoritative teacher mindset crushed under the weight of his more deeply hidden insecurities. Awkwardly, he took another step back, saying, "I have to go."

He could see the humiliation on her face—having just opened herself up to him, and promptly being rejected. When the humiliation passed, he watched hurt contort her features briefly.

He hated himself for putting that look on her face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking like it was difficult to even force a whisper from her lips. "I… was out of line, and it won't happen… again. Excuse me," she said, promptly shoving away from the wall and through the wall of people blocking the bar without even saying "excuse me."

Sighing a little at how clumsily he had handled that, he attempted to go after her. "Christine."

Either she didn't hear him, or she was ignoring him, because she kept moving.

"Christine, wait," he said with a bit more volume, shoving his own way through the people. It wasn't hard to catch her; she was in heels, and he was taller than she was. His fingers closed around her wrist and he pulled her back before she could get close enough to their booth for the boy to notice the commotion.

"Christine…"

"What?" she whispered furiously, turning to face him with shining eyes. The sight of tears in her eyes made him feel even worse, and he wished he could just wipe those tears away and never cause her to cry again.

"I'm sorry," he said dumbly.

Shaking her head, she angrily brushed away the one tear that had the nerve to creep down her cheek, and she said, "Don't be. I'm drunk, I wasn't thinking clearly."

He would allow that she wasn't completely sober, but she was also by no means drunk. Obviously she was trying to collect what was left of her pride, however, and he wouldn't begrudge her that.

"This is my fault," he stated. "I've sent mixed messages, I confused you…"

"It's not your fault," she said, shaking her head. "You made it very clear that we're friends. I'm fine with that, I… don't know what came over me. Please just… pretend that didn't happen."

"Christine…"

Disinterested in whatever else he had to say, she pulled her wrist free of his grasp and turned away from him, taking another step toward the table.

Wanting to stall her for at least another moment, he said, "Wait, do you have a way home? Here, take some money for a cab."

Before he could pull his wallet out of his back pocket, she turned back to him, a spark of rebelliousness that had never been in her eyes when she looked at him suddenly present. "I don't need your money, Professor Destler."

Ignoring the little jab, he said, "Well, you shouldn't be walking around late at night in that. I just want to make sure you get home safely."

Smiling without humor, she said, "Don't worry, my friend won't let any harm come to me."

He felt the muscle in his jaw pulse a little, but he showed no reaction beyond what he hoped looked like an accepting nod. "I would encourage you not to do anything foolish because you have wounded pride, Christine."

"Thought you didn't care," she said, looking vaguely annoyed.

"Christine… just because I'm not in a position to…" Sighing a little, he tried again. "Think about this rationally, Christine. Keeping our relationship a secret right now isn't extremely difficult; we don't see each other too frequently outside of school, and when we do we can generally say it's related to school or at least music. Aside from being completely unethical and risking my job if anyone did find out, you would have to keep me a secret from everyone in your life—Meg couldn't know, your own mother couldn't know… the secrecy would become a problem."

"You don't owe me any explanations, Erik," she said quietly, echoing his earlier words. "I had no right to ask you to take such a risk. Like I said, can you just… forget that ever happened?"

Not on his life, but he nodded anyway.

She nodded too, but there was no sparkle in her eyes. "Should I still meet you tomorrow…?"

"Yes, if you would still be interested in lessons, I would still gladly instruct you."

"'Kay. Then I'll see you tomorrow."

"Be safe, Christine."

Not bothering to respond, she gave a small wave and then she walked back over to the table. Raoul immediately looked up at her, noticed the visibly unhappy look on her face, and asked if she was okay.

"I'm fine," she murmured, waiting for him to slide out so that she could slide in.

He finally did, and then he turned—a bit too perceptively—to see where Christine had been or who she had been talking to that she was no longer in the good mood she had been in when she left the table. He did catch just the sight of Erik's masked face as he stole a last glance at Christine's table before leaving the club, but Raoul frowned, thinking possibly that wasn't the teacher he had peeked into Christine's classroom to see. After all, why would Christine be upset if she simply ran into her teacher?

She didn't seem to notice—or, in fact, care—when he didn't immediately slide in next to her, but he remembered himself after a moment and slid in beside her, moving his arm around her shoulder and pulling her against his chest. She didn't fight him, but she seemed distant even as she tilted her head to rest on his shoulder, her chocolate curls spilling rather attractively over his chest.

God, she was beautiful.

Smiling slightly, he gently tipped her chin back so that she had to look up at him, and there was a small pout on her downturned lips, but he thought she looked like a displeased princess. "You are stunning," he stated quietly, lightly brushing his fingers across her porcelain skin.

It was a very small smile, but her eyes warmed a little bit and her pout melted off of her face, her lips tugging upward ever so slightly.

Encouraged, Raoul smiled and impulsively leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her lips.

"You're sure you're all right?" he asked her.

Nodding her head, she shifted positions so that she was more upright, just lightly leaning against his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for caring though."

Raoul smiled, giving her a tenderly playful little wink as he said, "How could I not? I'd have to be made of tin."

Although he obviously didn't understand why, that particular line caused her smile to fall right back off her face, and he felt momentarily frustrated with himself for burying the lead.

"I got you another martini," he volunteered, hoping she would drink and socialize like she had been before she had gone to the bathroom, when she had been happy.

"I didn't want one," she said gently, but nonetheless shoved the martini away from herself.

His handsome brow furrowed, and he said, "Tell me how I can cheer you up."

Shaking her head, she forced a smile and said, "I swear, I'm fine. I think I should be heading home though. I have a lot to do tomorrow."

"All right," he said, nodding. "Would you like me to hail you a cab?"

"No, I can handle it," she assured him, sitting up and looking across at Meg. Her best friend was busy flirting with Conor, but Christine's patience was shot. "Meg?"

Before she even looked, Meg already knew what Christine wanted. Her lips turned down and she said, "We have to leave already?"

"I guess you don't have to if you don't want to, but I don't want you to have to go home alone."

Shaking her head, Meg said, "I can't let you leave alone, either. We can go."

"I could take her," Raoul offered.

"Oh no you don't, Prince Charming," Meg said, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him. "The only person either one of us is leaving with is either one of us. We don't go home with handsome boys no matter how many cocktails we've had."

"That's too bad," Conor murmured, trying to pull her back into his arms.

Raising her eyebrow even higher, she said, "Don't push you luck, buddy. I flirt, but I'm no hoe." Easily scooting her way down the booth, she offered Christine a casual smile before sensing the slightly red-rimmed eyes and the slight shine on her eyes. Immediately her smile fell and she leaned in, whispering, "Are you okay?"

"I'm great," Christine said unconvincingly. "Can we just go?"

"Did something happen? Did Raoul do something—"

"No, not Raoul," Christine said, shaking her head. "I… did something very stupid, but it doesn't matter now, I just… really want to go home."

Brow furrowing in concern, Meg glanced up at Raoul with a little less patience. "Want to scoot out so we can leave?"

Raoul promptly scooted out of the booth, standing back so that Christine and Meg could stand up, and since Christine no longer cared, Meg took the liberty of tugging the back of Christine's mini skirt down.

"You're right, that's short," Meg admitted.

Scoffing, Christine said, "I tried to tell you that before we left the house, but can you ever listen to me? No."

Half-shrugging, Meg said, "Normally you're too conservative."

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "Yeah, well, when I stop being conservative I really go all out."

"What did you do?" Meg demanded.

"I'll tell you on the way back to your apartment," Christine said miserably, stepping closer to Raoul and giving him a hug. "Thank you for inviting us, I had a nice time," she said politely.

Embracing her for a moment longer than was necessary, Raoul pulled back only slightly—but kept his arms around her—and said, "It was our pleasure. You should hang out with us more often."

"Well, hopefully with her new job we'll all have more Christine time," Meg said, looping her arm through Christine's and blowing Conor and air kiss. "We will see you gentlemen later."

Allowing Meg to pull Christine out of his arms, Raoul said, "Call me tomorrow if you get a chance, perhaps we can have dinner."

"I don't think so," she said apologetically. "I have… homework tomorrow."

"All day?" he asked lightly.

Shrugging, she said, "I'll call if I get some free time."

"When do you start your new job again?" Raoul asked.

Hesitating, Christine said, "I'm not completely positive if I'm going to be getting a new job… I'll let you know."

As soon as they said goodbye and got a fair distance away from the table, Meg was alert. "Why don't you know if you're going to be taking the job now? It's like a dream job, I thought you were really excited about it."

"Well, I was…"

"What changed?" Meg asked.

Sighing, Christine said, "Well, it all started at school today when I foolishly told Erik that if he was out and about tonight he should stop by…"

-o-

A/N: And that was all she wrote! (For now, anyway.) :) Sorry for the turbulence, but… it's Erik's fault. I totally wanted him to kiss her; he was a spaz. :\