Disclaimer: I do not own Chris Jericho or anything else pretaining to World Wrestling Entertainment. I am just a fan; and I am not profiting from writing this piece.

Chris was staring at me, awaiting an answer.

The truth is I didn't have an answer. Hell, I didn't even know where we were. I had gotten so enamored with Chris and his R-rolling abilities that I had drifted away from reality a long time ago.

"If I wanted to say, 'I ran to José's house yesterday,' what would be the appropriate conjugation of the word correr in the past-preterite form?" Chris repeated his question in an irritated tone of voice.

I glanced down at my notes, as if they could help. After an hour's worth of lecturing, all I had written on my little piece of notebook paper was: CONJUGATING VERBS USING THE PAST-PRETERITE.

"Uh…" I stammered.

I frantically tried to position Spanish book in front of my notebook; so that Chris wouldn't be able to see that I had not been paying attention.

My classmates were snickering by the point.

I tried to nonchalantly look past Chris's shoulder to read what had been scribbled across the whiteboard. It was no use. I didn't understand any of it; it was all foreign to me. (I suppose that's the irony of being in a foreign language class.)

Chris scowled in disappointment.

"Preste atención, Señorita Copeland. Pay attention, Ms. Copeland."

"Sorry," I squeaked.

I could feel all the blood rushing to my cheeks as I slumped further down into my desk.

Chris gave me another look and then turned his attention to my classmates.

"¿Quién puede decirme cómo conjugar correr? Who can tell me how to conjugate correr in the before mentioned sentence?"

Haro was the only person to raise his.

In virtually perfect Spanish, the boy responded with, "Corrí a la casa de José ayer."

Why can't that boy speak English like that?

I think Chris must have been thinking the same thing because he had this slightly baffled expression on his face for a moment.

He smiled at Haro, and said, "Perfecto, Señor Nakamura."

I had been caught not paying attention for the umpteenth time in the past week or so. Chris must have sensed when I wasn't paying attention; because he put me on the spot almost every day…I was utterly humiliated in front of my classmates every day. I couldn't be angry with him, though. How could I be angry with him whenever he was kind enough to wear such tight-fitting shirts and slacks day-in and day-out?

Dressing so desirably should have been some sort of dress-code violation to say the least. Maybe if Chris dressed more appropriately; maybe if he dressed a little more like one of Wallens-Welborn Collegiate's finest, I could somewhat concentrate on the lectures? I could go to the office and file a complaint against Chris's tantalizing wardrobe. I mean, if I wished to succeed in Spanish class now, I was going to have to do something.

"Ms. Copeland?"

"Past-preterite describes what has happened or occurred. It does not describe people," I prattled absentmindedly.

I wasn't sure what Chris was calling on me for this time; but I thought that it would be better if I gave him some sort of answer that pertained to what he had been teaching.

He chuckled.

"Well, it's nice to know that you were paying attention at some point this morning…I just wanted to tell you that the bell has rang."

"Oh…" was all I managed to say. I made no effort to gather my books; I just kept staring at him like some mindless moron.

He chuckled again.

"That means that you're free to go, Ms. Copeland."

"Oh, right…" I gasped and nervously tried to get my books…and myself together.

I slid out of my desk, stumbled over my feet, and almost obliterated the entire row of desks next to me.

"Are you all right?" Chris asked, quickly leaving his spot at the front of the class.

My body stiffened as he grabbed a hold of my elbow.

I turned to Chris and gave him this awkward, lopsided smile. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks again. Great, more blushing…What was next? Was I going to run into the door on my way out? That would have just been icing on my cake of embarrassment.

"I'm fine," I replied, as I hurriedly threw my tote over my shoulder and gathered my books into my arms.

Chris hesitated a moment before he let me go. He had one of those concerned, parental expressions across his face. He was probably wondering if I was on drugs. Who knows? Maybe Ethan's secondhand marijuana smoke was finally getting to me? Maybe that would explain my sudden two left feet? Yes…We'll go with that. It's a better excuse.

I gave Chris another lopsided grin, muttered a thank-you, and brushed by him.

"Ms. Copeland?"

I abruptly came to a halt at the door. The sternness in Chris's tone had me hesitant to turn around; but after a moment or two, I gathered enough courage to do so.

Chris was silent for a moment. He stared at me and folded his arms across his chest.

"We're having a pop quiz tomorrow. It's going to be on all the grammar material that we covered in class today," he said.

"O—Kay…" I couldn't help giving him a baffled look.

Why was he giving me this insider information?

"You've seemed distracted these last few days." He continued, as if he had read my thoughts. "Now I don't know what's going on; and it's not my business to know. It just concerns me…I'm letting you know about the quiz in advance; because I want you to study the material and be prepared…for once."

I couldn't help laughing a little. It was out of nervousness as well as amusement.

"Mr. Fa—Jericho, I'm very flattered that you're concerned about me. But aren't you concerned about the rest of the class, too? You do realize that, like, half of us will probably fail the quiz, right? Very few people know or even care to know about what's going on in class. It's been that way for about four years now."

Chris pursed his lips and nodded.

"That may be so, Ms. Copeland. But you—I can tell that you have promise. Heed my advice. Study the material tonight. If you find that you have questions, then I'll be happy to help you before class starts tomorrow…But for now, I suggest you get to you next class before you're marked tardy."

I nodded and quickly scurried out of the room before I started blushing again.

Should I have been concerned about Chris's obvious partiality toward me? Should I have come to school wearing miss-matched sneakers? Who knows?

What was more important to me was the fact that Chris thought that I was "promising." How could he see so much promise in me when all I could do was mumble and fumble my way through class?

I let out a frustrated sigh and tossed my Spanish textbook onto my bed again. I couldn't recall very much of this morning's lecture. So I didn't understand the majority of the material I was supposed to study for tomorrow's pop quiz. It was all foreign to me. How ironic is that? I wouldn't have been so lost if it weren't for Chris and his stupid R-rolling abilities. Oh, and let's not forget his exceptionally tight khakis. They just made his rear scream, "Look at me!" So I did…a lot…when I wasn't distracted by his aforementioned stupid R-rolling abilities. I was dreading casual Fridays when he wore jeans.

"Hey, carrots…"

I jumped at the sound of Adam's voice. My older brother was cautiously poking his head into the room.

"What?" I responded in a flustered manner.

"The free-loader is downstairs," he replied as he nonchalantly picked at his fingernails.

"Adam," I groaned and rolled my eyes at him. "Ethan is not a free-loader."

He glanced up at me with a raised brow.

"Mom washes his clothes and feeds him almost on a daily basis. If that's not free-loading, I'd sure like to know what you call it."

I gave Adam another eye-roll.

"You know his parents have been at each other's throats."

"Yeah, so…Mom works two jobs to keep us up. She can't afford an extra mouth."

"Well, then. Maybe you should get a job."

Adam scowled and said, "Hey, my music gigs are bringing in some cash. And Mom knows I'm trying to focus on my wrestling training. So maybe you're the one that needs to get a job, carrots. You know, to start contributing to the household and paying for your own free-loading friend."

I sighed, "And we're back to that again."

"Yeah, yeah," Adam groaned. "So are you coming down to get Ethan out of my hair until Mom comes home from work?"

I glanced down at my Spanish textbook and let out another sigh.

"I can't hang out with him today," I answered. "I'm going to have to pull an all-nighter. I could have sworn I told him that today at lunch."

Adam nodded. He ducked out of the room. I could hear him yelling to Ethan from the top of the stairs.

"Hey, kid! You need to get your ears checked! Because Emma said she thought she told you that she can't hang out with you tonight! She has to study! So hit the bricks!"

"Adam!" I shrieked.

I leapt from my bed and darted out of the room. I slapped my brother on the back of the head as hard as I could. He yelped and gave me a startled look.

"Don't be uncouth," I scolded him.

He rubbed the back of his head and grumbled, "Don't sound like such a smartass."

I hurried down the stairs to do some damage control. Ethan met me at the bottom. He had a gloomy expression across his face.

"You really want me to scram?" he asked.

I sighed and ran my hands down the front of my face.

"I thought I told you at lunch I had to study?" I countered.

Ethan's gaze fell to the floor. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and then nodded.

"You did," he replied nervously. "You did, but there was a, uh, situation at my house…again."

"The neighbors didn't call the police again, did they?" I asked with a sigh.

"Don't know," he replied. His gaze was still on the floor. "I bailed right when the fighting started."

I stared at Ethan for a moment. He was feeling so embarrassed and humiliated. What kind of best friend would I be if I turned him away when he obviously needed me?

"Well, like I said…I have to study, but you can come on up," I said. "When Mom comes home, I'll ask her to fix the couch for you tonight."

Ethan's gaze finally met mine. He gave me that charming smile and said, "Cool. Thanks."

I couldn't help smiling in return and gestured for him to follow me. We walked passed my brother on our way up the stairs. He was eyeing Ethan.

"Keep your hands to yourself, kid," he told him in a stern, fatherly tone. "And I had better not smell dope when come back up these steps in half an hour."

"Adam," I groaned.

Ethan simply rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," he said knowingly. "Or else I'll be drinking my meals through a silly straw. I know the drill. Nice to see you too, Adam."

"Whatever," My brother grumbled. "Half an hour, just remember that."

Whenever he was out of earshot distance, Ethan asked, "Remember when your brother used to actually like me?"

I laughed a little.

"Those six years sure flew by, eh?"

Ethan sprawled out on my bed like he owned it and then took a peek at my textbook.

"Español…Is that what we're studying?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered with a sigh. I took seat on the bed and glared at the textbook in his hands. "There's going to be a pop quiz tomorrow on the material we covered in class today."

Ethan gave me a look and then laughed, "Well, how is it a pop quiz if the class already knows about it?"

"I'm the only one that knows about it," I admitted bashfully and quickly grabbed the book from his hands.

He pushed his bangs out of his eyes and gave me a playful smirk.

"Oh, so you're the teacher's pet already, huh?"

The blood started rushing to my cheeks.

"I wouldn't say that," I answered softly. "Mr. Jericho thinks I'm the only one in class that actually cares about the course. And I've been…struggling with the material last few days. So Mr. Jericho is just trying to give me a leg up. That's all."

Ethan nodded in understanding.

"This Mr. Jericho sounds like a real dumbass," he said after a moment.

"So, you don't think I care about the course?" I shrieked in an indignant manner.

"I didn't say that," he laughed. "I'm saying he's a dumbass for thinking he could actually start teaching anyone anything mid-semester. He'd wise to be a lazy ass like Mr. V. It'd be a lot easier on everyone; and you wouldn't have to worry yourself silly over some stupid pop quiz."

"I'm not worrying myself silly," I lied.

Ethan gave me a look and laughed again.

"I know you. You're always worrying yourself silly, Em…But relax, I'll help ya study and you'll ace that pop quiz with flying colors like you always do."

"You want to help me study?" I giggled.

My best friend rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah…Somebody call The Guinness Books. You want my help or not?"

I smiled and nodded.

"That would be great. And hey, you might learn something while we're at it."

Ethan let out a boisterous laugh.

"God, I hope not. Now come on, girl—" He pointed to my textbook—"Let's get your knowledge on!"

I nervously slipped into my desk. Naro had yet to arrive. So Chris had a clear view of me. He was sitting at his desk with his legs crossed. His reading glasses were on top of his head; and his bright blue eyes were studying me. He was probably wondering why I wasn't approaching him. No. No. I bet he was wondering why I was looking at him like I was picturing him naked. That wasn't hard to do; considering he had his lavender dress shirt unbuttoned a significant amount. Oh, dear Lord. Now was not the time to have some silly schoolgirl fantasy. The quiz…I needed to focus on the quiz…The quiz that Chris would be placing on my desk with those seemingly soft hands of his. Crap. I quickly diverted my gaze and started to nervously rummage through my bag for a pencil, which was pointless because I had already placed a pencil on my desk.

My heart all but ceased beating whenever I caught a whiff of Chris's musky cologne. I nervously set my bag on the floor and looked up. He gave me an easy smile and crouched down in front of my desk.

"Good morning, Emma."

I gave him a sheepish smile in return and tried my hardest to make sure my gaze didn't travel any further than his mouth.

"Good morning, Mr. Jericho."

"Feeling all right?" he asked.

"Estoy bien," I squeaked.

That smile of his grew larger.

"Bueno," he said. He paused for a moment and then asked, "¿Tiene preguntas que hacerme? Do you have questions to ask me?"

Yes, do you ever button your shirts completely? I thought to myself.

"Nothing comes to mind," I answered in a soft voice.

"So, do you feel confident about yesterday's material?"

"As confident as I can be," I replied, biting my lower-lip.

Chris eyed me for a moment.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked.

I nodded.

"We have a few minutes before class. You can ask me anything you wish," he offered sweetly.

I couldn't help smiling.

"Thank you, Mr. Jericho, but I think I'm going to do well."

Chris gave that smile again.

"That's great to hear," he said.

He tapped his hands rhythmically across my desktop as he stood-up.

"Make me proud."

With that, Chris sauntered back to his desk. I giggled, as if he had flirted with me or something. I wondered what my reward was going to be for being the only one in class to pass this pop quiz.