For the first time in her life, she wondered why she attempted to expect everything. She certainly hadn't expected this.

Leana sat silently on the choral risers, her elbow resting on her knee and her chin nestled within her palm. Her thoughts were wide and varied, thinking of everything from graduation, though it was in a number of months, to feeding her cat when she got home, though she thought that it should have died months ago due to its age. Boys hadn't been on her mind for a great deal of time, and she had hoped to keep it that way, given how they had a tendency to distract her from more important aspects of her life such as homework and time with her girlfriends. Her hopes were obviously pointless, however, when a man strode into her choral classroom, unfamiliar in every way. She lifted her chin from her hand and quirked her eyebrow in curiosity as said unfamiliar man shook her choir teacher Mr. Thomas's hand with a bright smile on his face. Perhaps today would be a little less boring than she had originally expected.

There was something incredibly splendid about him, she realized, from the tips of his scruffy, blond hair to the soles of his black shoes. While he wasn't necessarily hot, striking, or handsome, he exuded a sense of presence that made Leana's eyes wholly unwilling to dance away from him. As the two men whispered to each other during the monotonous announcements over the intercom, a great deal of whispering was going on among the females on the risers as well, wholeheartedly allowed by the only occasionally rule-following Mr. Thomas. "He's cute," Leana added to the quiet uproar surrounding her. Her friend Janie, however, barely spared the man a glance before returning with, "His mouth is too small for his face." Wherever it was that Janie drew this observation from, Leana had absolutely no idea. Gladly taking a moment to examine said mouth, Leana concluded that it was exactly the size that it ought to be.

The announcements were long, each having to do with utterly ridiculous things that the students really didn't care to pay any sort of attention to, but it gave Leana a chance to study this man at a great distance. There was a messenger bag over his shoulder, one that was full enough to suggest that he wasn't simply going through the halls on a scenic stroll. The way that he and Mr. Thomas were smiling at one another suggested that the two of them had met once or twice before, at the least. Perhaps the two were previously acquainted and the man was coming through to see him again? But that still explained nothing of the bag nor why he had arrived so early in the morning. People only tended to do such a thing if they had a reason to be staying, one beyond common social interaction. In short, the man remained a mystery, strange and seemingly unsolvable until Mr. Thomas decided to enlighten the group on why he was there.

When the announcements concluded for the morning, her widely smiling choir teacher brought the man forward to introduce. "May I introduce Mr. Tenor Austen, your student teacher for the rest of the year." As the girls took to applauding, perhaps a wee bit too eagerly, Leana could not shake the feeling from her veins that this man was going to be incredibly important. She also could not vanquish the joy that rose inside of her when she subconsciously recalled that she had three classes a day under her choral teacher, more than anyone but Janie. A thrill shot through her. She was already calculating the ways to get under this Mr. Austen's skin.

Leana was a girl bordering on the edge of being superstitious simply because she always believed what she thought that her feelings were telling her. That morning, she'd had a feeling that she needed to dress as nicely as possible. Now, as she stood with the rest of her choir to warm up their voices and smoothed down her black tunic top over her jeans, she knew why. As her voice danced over the solfege scales along with the other girls, she could see that his eyes left her for nary a moment. Leana lifted her carriage, attempted to soften her face, anything to make herself feel worthy of such attention, but it was incredibly difficult. His eyes, which she pondered the shade of, carried the oddest of intensities. When the bell rang following the rehearsing of several songs and Leana surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder at Mr. Austen as she slipped into the hallway, she still felt her cheeks flushing from the visual attention she'd received. That feeling, whispering to her senses that this man would be important, still hadn't vanished. And so, as Leana often did, she blinded herself to any sensible thoughts and dived into the feeling with reckless abandonment. Immersing herself in it was sweet.

With her books tucked gently against her chest and her eyes sweeping across her fellow students as she passed them, Leana took to nibbling very softly at her bottom lip, a habit that came to the forefront often when she took to being thoughtful. This was an altogether logical turn of events, of course. Why hadn't she thought that the man might become their student teacher for the semester? A lock or two of bright red hair fell before her gaze, but she completely disregarded it in favor of focusing on her thoughts. In the past, the choirs had several student teachers, one per semester, each simply there to fulfill their duties to earn their Master degrees in education or music. It only made sense that this unfamiliar Mr. Austen would be doing the same.

When she suddenly felt mildly unsettled by the intensity of the thoughts and feelings sweeping through her, Leana nervously shuffled her books into one arm and used her other hand to push her hair behind one of her ears. Gosh, she was just being a typical teenager, wasn't she? That was ridiculous. She was beyond such things, and to live as one, hoping to get under Mr. Austen's skin or to draw his eye in some sort of way, was utterly ridiculous. Leana wasn't anything if not ridiculous.

She lifted her chin a little higher, then, and planned to focus her thoughts elsewhere, but recognized in an instant that such a thing would be almost impossible. …Dang it. Fine, then. She'd simply make sure that they were a bit less intense.

Throughout all of Mr. Thomas's explanations during his planning period, Tenor found his mind partially distracted. He did not wish to hear why Mr. Thomas chose the music that he did for his choirs. He did not wish to understand Mr. Thomas's agenda system. He certainly did not wish to hear Mr. Thomas's advice for life. No, as peculiar as it was, Tenor only wished to know the name of the fiery-haired girl in his first period class.

He had no idea what exactly drew his eye to her. Perhaps it was because she was the first to lock eyes with him when he walked through the door. Perhaps it was the way that she kept her eyes urgently on Mr. Thomas, as if terrified to miss a single thing that he might teach. Perhaps it was even her hair, a splendid shade of copper red that stood out among the brunettes and blondes in her class. Whatever it was, now that her face was imprinted in his mind, he knew that it most definitely wasn't going anywhere.

Tenor pulled himself back to the present, to focus on Mr. Thomas's instructions regarding the bulk copy machine. The cold band of silver on his hand beckoned for him to forget her eager face and learn how to copy fifty pages of music in ten seconds. No doubt he'd regret this in a week if he didn't pay attention now.

As he pressed the buttons to send a new piece of music through the copy machine, he took advantage of the few seconds of peace to let his thoughts drift once again while Mr. Thomas took advantage of their location to exchange a few words with the high school principal. There was absolutely no reason why one single girl should be so interesting to him, and Tenor knew that all too well. Flicking a lock of blond hair away from his face, he narrowed his eyes as well. It was very rare that his thoughts would be drawn with such natural intensity to other souls unless they had something about them that attracted Tenor with an odd sort of ferocity. Did that girl, that little red-headed lass, have something like that, then? And even then, what could it be?

His thoughts were obviously not going to be answered any time soon. Curling his hand into a fist, said cold band of metal came back to the front of his thoughts, and Tenor exhaled a gentle sigh. Tara, his beautiful blushing bride, would no doubt want to know every single detail that he could muster about this entire day. To let his thoughts get so carried away until all he had to bring up was a young girl in his mentor's first period choral class would be a recipe for disaster, knowing how Tara reacted so strongly and so dramatically to certain things.

"Well? Figure it out?" A cheery, smiling voice brought Tenor back to reality, and he looked at Mr. Thomas with a smile in return as he offered the music that he had copied. Upon receiving praise and being introduced to the principal, which passed with nothing truly of consequence, Tenor followed Mr. Thomas back to his classroom, listening to the older man's chattering about nothing in particular. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was a very welcome distraction.

It was by sheer force of will that Leana didn't sprint through the school proclaiming the news of the new choral student teacher to all of her friends, suddenly feeling herself bristling with nervous energy from the tips of her hair to the bottoms of her toes. However, she did wait silently by the door of her second period classroom until her friend Andrew began to walk past, innocently moseying toward his theater class for the day. It was then that she lurched forward and latched herself to his sleeve like a leech. "Hot new choral teacher," she hissed into his ear, eyes urgently wide to transmit just how important of a fact this was in the grand scheme of things. After all, they attended an incredibly small high school, in comparison to the public schools around them. To have someone arrive who was even remotely attractive and old enough to carry an air of mystery and experience about him was bound to cause a field day among those students with a few less inhibitions, Andrew among them.

His eyebrows arched in interest before he calmly detached her hand from his sleeve and moved on, albeit a few paces quicker, to his classroom slightly beyond the door leading into the choral classroom. Even Leana had to admit a bit of surprise at how carefully he moved and by the fact that he didn't throw his rather jiggly body into the choral classroom like a fly into a wind tunnel. However, instead, she forced herself to slip into her classroom for her second period class, passing it with nervous thoughts, bouncings of her pencil against her notebook, and soft sighs.

It was also by sheer force of will that Leana didn't stampede down the hallway in search of Andrew after second period. However, she did wait silently by the main office until Andrew walked up to her as quickly as he could without looking suspicious. Upon reaching her, he said only three words. "Oh. My. Gosh."

Yeah. It was good to have a gay friend.

By fourth period-slash-lunchtime, it was everywhere, the news of this freshly minted student teacher. The reaction among Mr. Thomas's choral students was highly mixed, some thinking so highly of Mr. Austen as to refer to him as the hottest thing to hit the Academy of the Arts ever while others would merely curl their lips and dismissively state, "Eh, he's all right." These reactions did not stop Leana from talking Andrew into skipping lunch in favor of watching Mr. Thomas's fourth period A Cappella Singers rehearse instead. The two had been in said choir two years prior before moving up the unofficial choral hierarchy that was present, and Leana had Mr. Thomas wrapped around her little finger due to her reputation for being a teacher's pet. There would be no trouble.

This was how Andrew and Leana found themselves crouched behind Mr. Thomas's desk for the next hour beside the demurely sitting Janie, who served as a teacher's aid during this class. While the former two stared at Mr. Austen's back with identical looks of wonder, Janie set to taking roll with no curious glance at the man with a small mouth. The only indication that Mr. Austen even noticed the two behind the desk who were not in chairs was when he nearly tripped over Leana's foot while he made his way to the hole puncher with a collection of music. He gave an inquisitive look to their presence, which was explained by an explanation that really explained very little, before going on his merry way and not looking back once.

The superstitious redhead felt her heart sink slightly in her chest, but quickly lifted her chin and carried onward. After all, he was only an adorable student teacher, curious feeling or no. There was very little, if anything, to fret about, not when he was only someone to observe curiously.

Tenor didn't understand this at all. One moment, he was observing Mr. Thomas as he led his choir in warm-ups, and the next, he was suddenly distracted by an odd sensation creeping down his spine. However, he dared not to look behind him, as he'd rather save face than risk embarrassment. He'd never felt it before, though it seemed a great deal like those feelings he read about in novels when the protagonist was being watched. The absurdity of this struck him suddenly and he smiled. What would he expect next? For some dragon to crash through the window? Surely no one could feel himself being watched.

"Tenor," Mr. Thomas gained his attention with a whisper, and he promptly wiped the smile from his face and looked over. "If you could go and punch holes in these?" Several copies of music were offered to him and he took them with a nod. The instant that he rose from his chair and turned, however, he saw two heads of hair and two pairs of wide eyes watching him. Tenor paused in his steps for only a breath before mentally chuckling. They reminded him of gophers or prairie dogs peeking timidly over the sides of their burrows. He did not recognize the brown shade of hair, but the bright red, so similar to a bright new penny, instantly drew his eye. Ah...Tenor had no idea of her name, but he certainly knew her pin-straight locks.

As he made his way around the desk, however, he turned his gaze toward the hole puncher. No matter how tempting it was to look at the two students, to ask them why they were there, to even ask the name of the girl with the red hair, it wouldn't interfere with his work. Honestly, his first day at a new school and shirking work to converse with a few students? It was absurd. However, as he paused by the machine, he looked down at the students for only a moment, wanting to offer them only a glance, but they had such an odd combination of excitement and nervousness painted on their faces that he couldn't help but furrow his brow and let his lips twitch into a small smile.

The two instantly offered hurried answers, seeming to take his expression as a question to their presence. The words blurred together like random puffs of air, however, deeming them basically meaningless. "Lunch is baneful with fuzzy koalas!" or something of the sort. Whatever it was that they said, he simply shook his head, punched holes in the music and went on his way. After all, as Mr. Thomas had kindly pulled up his big red fuzzy chair next to the piano in front of the risers, he couldn't stay away for long and seem disrespectful. It just wouldn't do.

However, as he dropped into the exceedingly comfy chair, he still felt that chill tremble down his spine, even as he tried to focus on Mr. Thomas's students and memorize faces. It seemed the little gophers were not willing to let him rest peacefully.

By the time that Leana slipped off toward her fourth period to fill her mind with literature and essays, she felt as if she was in middle school again. She certainly wasn't acting any better. However, she couldn't deny the hold that this Mr. Austen had on her mind, with his musical first name and his messy blond hair and beard. As she dropped her obscenely heavy backpack to the floor beside her desk, she vaguely wondered what color his eyes were.

Oh, you're pathetic.

She sank down into the chair, nudging a few messy bits of hair away from her eyes. Hmph. At times she thought that she should simply shave in all off. No doubt it hung just around the middle of her spine now at the most. It was exceedingly troublesome to care for, though on the other hand she wasn't sure that her face was strong enough to handle a shorter hair style. She subconsciously touched a hand to her cheek, feeling it give in when she pressed. Not plump but not hollow. Average.

Leana could never easily settle for average but, at this point, she supposed that she had little choice in the matter.

Droning began on the subject of Beowulf, lectures that normally interested her but at the moment seemed immensely dull compared to the subject of music and, unfortunately, Mr. Austen. Now it felt nigh on impossible for her mind to differentiate between the two. They were interwoven carefully, though she hadn't noticed when such a thing had happened, and felt rather disturbed that it had occurred, so utterly quickly that she had absolutely no say in the matter. Suddenly she felt incredibly tired, but had no idea why. Dashing a hand through her hair, she sighed. Boys – no, men – were complicated.

Or not.

Her tendency to indulge in fantasies came to the forefront then, and she immediately wondered if he was married. After all, she would be legal in only a couple of weeks. Perhaps...perhaps...

"Leana?"

She jerked herself out of her daydream, staring wide-eyed at the teacher before she subconsciously recalled what the question was. "Oh...umm, Grendal. It was Grendal." The teacher eyed her for another moment, shook her head, and moved on with her lecture.

She let out a little sigh of relief before slumping slightly in her desk. That was close. However, after years of succumbing to daydreaming, Leana know how to recover quickly when she'd been found out.

It was a real shame that a random man had distracted her so easily, especially since it had been such a great deal of time since any guy had turned her mind from any subject at hand.

Oh yes…and she had to go back to that classroom for the next period. Charming.

Resisting the urge to let her curious dreams flourish again, Leana turned her eyes toward the whiteboard. No more. Not now.