Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed! :)
Artemis Phantomhive: I have seen the Royal Albert Hall production, but I have to confess that I didn't especially like Ramin Karimloo's singing, or Sierra Boggess's for that matter. Her high notes didn't sound so good. However, this is only my personal opinion, and everyone else seems to love them. Have you seen John Cudia's phantom? He's really good.
Disclaimer: The main characters don't belong to me, but the rest does.
Dear Diary,
Raoul almost asked me out today! I just wish I could take the "almost" out of the sentence.
We were walking together to our next class, and were about to part ways, when he said "Wait," in an unusually serious voice.
"Yes?" I suddenly felt nervous.
"Um, Christine... I just wanted to say something... You don't have to say yes, but -... I just wanted to say that... well... you're very pretty, and I, um, was wondering if you'd like to, well, to -..."
"Hey Raoul! You're gonna be late!" yelled one of his friend.
Raoul looked down, blushing, then looked up again, started nodding at me for no apparent reason, and then walked away briskly.
Hopefully, if I can get him alone and I smile at him encouragingly, he will finish his sentence. Maybe tomorrow?
If this were a fictional story, I guess you could say that my umbrella is a plot device.
I forgot my umbrella at home today (again!), and it was raining really heavily. I realized this at the end of my lesson, and it made the perspective of walking home very unpleasant. I was probably making a face, because Mr. Destler asked: "Is there anything wrong?"
"Oh, no. Well, not really - I just realized I don't have my umbrella, and I have to walk home. But it's fine, really. I don't live all that far, and a little soak is not going to kill me."
After a short silence, he offered in a quiet voice:
"Well, I have my umbrella, and - I could walk you home. That is, if you don't mind?"
"That's very kind of you, but you really don't have to go through the trouble. I'll be okay."
"Oh, but I insist! You might catch a cold, and that would be very bad for your voice."
"Oh, alright then. Thank you so much!"
When we got outside, he opened his umbrella, and tentatively offered me his arm. I took it. The material of his vest was soft, but his arm underneath was surprisingly bony. When I think about it, that was probably the first time we made any physical contact. We silently walked, the rain softly drumming on the cloth of the umbrella with invisible fingers, and the gravel crackling under our feet.
When we got to my house, I suddenly felt nervous about my father seeing us, but no one was at the window.
I thanked Mr. Destler, then quickly went inside.