Flicker (6 page)

              Despite her hopes, however, Elise didn't get any indication of Alex's well-being during the day. She tried to put him out of her mind, forcing herself to pay attention to her classwork with moderate success, but she still felt like the day dragged by. Finally, seventh period ended and she wove her way through the crowd, which was slightly more subdued than it had been last week as her fellow students settled themselves into the routine of the school year. She nearly cursed as an eleventh grader stopped dead in front of her, abruptly deciding he needed to visit his locker. Ducking around his friends, who all looked at her disconcertingly until she glared them away, she headed for the stairs.

              “Miss me yet?” She heard the voice underneath the general hubbub of shouting, laughter, and slamming lockers as she passed the door to the art classroom.

              Elise was already smiling as she looked back over her shoulder at Alex. “Oh, I was devastated-- a whole two days without you!” She flipped her hair nonchalantly, pretending that she hadn't been worried sick about him all day.

              He fell in step beside her. “So, how was your weekend?” He asked.

              “Uneventful,” she said, shrugging. “Got a new book, went to a family cookout-- you know, stuff.”

              “New book?” He asked, eying the pile of textbooks in her arms. “I don't see one. Generally when I start something new, I can't put it down until it's over.”

              Elise laughed. “I already finished it-- what do you think I did at the family cookout?”

              “Depends on the family, I suppose,” Alex replied. “I had good fun with mine this weekend.”

              “Yeah, well mine I generally try to avoid,” she grumbled, then grinned at him. “But how was your cousin's party? I see you're still on two feet today. What, not enough alcohol in New York City to knock you out?”

              “Oh, I'm sure there would be if I cared to look for it-- but someone had to be the designated driver,” he chuckled. “I do have to say, though, my cousin enjoyed his party-- and I have enough blackmail photos to get anything I want from him for the next two years or so.”

              “Is that so?” Elise asked, eyebrows raised, as they edged around a crowd of rowdy boys in varsity jackets blocking the water fountains.

              “Absolutely,” Alex responded somberly, standing back and gesturing politely to allow her to pass through the stairwell doors before him. “See, my cousin will now be inviting me to all of his fraternity parties, and buying my drinks, unless he wants his mom and his new girlfriend to know exactly how he looks wearing nothing but a bra-- on his head.”

              Elise burst into surprised laughter as she tried to picture the weekend Alex must have had. All that came to mind were a few scenes from some idiotic movie about a bachelor party in Las Vegas that her own cousin had insisted on showing her at the barbeque yesterday. As she imagined Alex taking part in antics like the movie portrayed, she couldn't help but laugh even harder, and ended up gasping as she tried to breathe past her mirth.

              “Wow, I didn't think it was that funny!” Alex laughed along with her.

              “No, no,” Elise gasped out. “No, it just reminded me of this stupid movie-” she was about to add more, but in her amusement, she didn't notice that she had dropped her hem. For a moment, lifting her hands to illustrate what she was trying to say, she felt like her old self; she forgot she was wearing her skirts. As she tried to stifle her giggles and catch her breath to explain, she tripped on the long garment, and staggered.

              In a flash, Alex was there, his arm an iron band around her waist and his other hand holding her arm to steady her books. Elise gasped, frozen in shock at the abruptly intimate contact. She was unable to block out her uncomfortable awareness that her body was pressed to his from hip to shoulder, her curves molding against the immovable solidness of him, her layers of skirts doing nothing to protect her. “Careful,” he murmured in her ear, all trace of amusement suddenly gone. “We wouldn't want you to get hurt, now would we?” His voice was dark, and his tight grip around her waist held her against his broad chest, impossibly strong. His tone reminded her of the moment he had grabbed her wrist the first time he'd spoken to her. Just like then, he was holding her in place, leaving her no hope that she could escape before he allowed it. The aspects of him that had frightened her so badly that day had largely been absent from his demeanor since, but here they were again. Her pulse was suddenly racing, and a fine shiver ran down her spine.

              “Thank you,” she muttered, jerking away from him without meeting his eyes. Purposefully gripping her skirts with shaking hands to keep from tripping again, she continued quickly down the stairs.

              “Elise, wait!” He called, pushing past a group of girls who all cast him dark looks in response. He ignored them, catching up with Elise near the bottom of the stairs. “What's wrong?”

              “Nothing,” she snapped, then took a deep breath, calming herself. He had just saved her from falling down the stairs, and embarrassing as that was, there was no reason to be angry with him for flirting a little during the encounter. After all, hadn't she decided that flirting was okay? Hadn't she been doing it throughout all their conversations since the second day of school-- including their date on Friday? Besides, it was her own stupid fault for being so clumsy and tripping in the first place. Reminding herself not to be ridiculous and get scared over normal little things, she turned to look up at him. “Really, nothing,” she said more calmly. “I didn't mean to get snippy; sorry.”

              “No problem,” he brushed her apology aside. “I should have been more thoughtful,” he said carefully. “I've noticed you're not a big fan of casual touching.”

              She frowned as she looked at him. She generally tried not to be obvious about such things-- but then, he'd already proved how observant he was. She bit her lip, trying to stop the tremors still rippling through her. “Thanks,” she said again, and straightened her shoulders before walking into class.

              Elise didn't look at Alex for the entirety of the period, choosing to focus on Magistra's introductory lecture about the classical literature they would be studying. As she took notes on Virgil and Sophocles, however, she had the distinct impression that Alex was watching her very closely once again. At least this time, armed with the knowledge that she had spent several hours in his company last week and hadn't had one awkward moment, she didn't fall into the melancholy depression that had overtaken her before. Still, whenever she, in an unguarded moment, allowed her mind to drift back to the moments when she had experienced his speed or his strength, she couldn't help the shudder that ripped up her spine.

              Much as she hated to acknowledge it, Elise was horribly confused about what he made her feel. On the one hand, his power over her was terrifying-- there was no way she could trust anyone with her safety, not like that, and pretending otherwise was just going to end poorly. But on the other hand... Elise unwillingly admitted to herself that something about his clear ability to outpace her if she tried to run, to overpower her if she tried to fight-- something about that was very, very exciting.

              Thinking it through, she realized that every time she'd stiffened, or pulled away, or pushed him, Alex had stopped whatever was frightening her. He pushed her, played games with her, but the minute she let him know she wasn't enjoying it, he let her go. And he was never upset, never angry, about having to stop-- not only did he seem genuinely contrite, but if anything, he almost seemed like he understood why she stopped him. That in itself was a concern-- Elise kept her secrets for a reason-- but she realized that his practice of stopping when she wanted him to was actually starting to make her trust him.

              She managed not to turn around and look at him, but only just. Trust was a dangerous thing. But it also made her feel safe enough that just for a moment, she was able to pretend. And in pretending that she was her old self, that nothing had ever happened to her, she made herself think--
would I like him playing these games with me? If I'd never been hurt, would this be nothing but fun?
Elise couldn't lie to herself-- the answer was an unequivocal yes.

              At the end of the lesson, Elise was not surprised to see that she had taken really terrible notes on classical literature. She rolled her eyes ruefully as she jotted down the night's homework, which involved a long, complex passage that she would have to translate.
Why am I doing this to myself
? She grumbled to herself with amusement as she packed her notebook-- once more, it was full of half-sketched eyes and swirling lines rather than anything Magistra had said-- into her messenger bag and stood. At this rate, she was going to be a fantastic artist, and not know a thing about Latin.

              Once again, Alex was there, looking down at her from his great height. She was relieved to see that this time, however, he didn't look so unhappy.

              “You aren't mad at me, are you?” He asked carefully, maintaining slightly more distance than he typically did. More than anything else, Elise appreciated that. It was nice to believe he wouldn't press her while she figured out a way through her tangled web of emotions.

              “No, not at all,” she said, forcing a smile up into her eyes. “You saved me from a very embarrassing fall; I'm grateful.” He broke into a small, relieved smile of his own, and Elise decided she ought to lighten the mood a bit. “Although,” she went on seriously. “I really ought to blame you. After all, I wasn't this clumsy until you came along.”

              “Ah,” he cried, dramatically as any Broadway actor as he clapped his hand to his heart. “The fault is mine, dear lady, for causing you such distraction! Would that I could diminish my charms, that your poor mortal being would be shielded!”

              “That's what Zeus said,” one of their classmates muttered as he sidled past them, heading for the door. Elise met Alex's eyes and they both burst out laughing.

              “You walked into that one,” she chucked, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

              Alex walked her home that day, and Elise slowly relaxed as they chatted about normal things-- her favorite color (forest green), his favorite movie (
12 Angry Men
), and whether physical activities that didn't involve running after balls could still be considered sports. As the conversation turned to music, Elise suddenly remembered her earlier nerves, and turned to him somberly.

              “So, did you hear about the riot this weekend in some club in New York?” She asked him, trying not to betray her burning curiosity about whether or not he'd been there. Now that she knew he was all right, she was more intrigued than worried-- after all, she was a complete stranger to that sort of wild lifestyle.

              Was it just her imagination, or did Alex suddenly look distant? He blinked down at her, but he was smiling in a decidedly self-deprecating manner. “Is that what all the sirens were about? My cousin was all for going to check it out-- we heard what must have been half of NYPD from a few blocks away. But I figured whatever was going down, it would be best to keep my drunken family out of it.” He laughed. “A riot, really?”

              She nodded, returning his grin. “My dad was reading about it in the paper this morning, and my mom got all upset. I suppose she's worried that next thing we know, big city gang hooligans are going to start bashing in our windows with bricks or something.” She snorted. “You know, being a social worker, you'd think she'd be a little more understanding of the underprivileged.”

              “Nah,” Alex laughed. “It's just the opposite, really-- you always think the best of people until you really see them at their worst. After that, it's hard to see the good in anyone. I'd imagine that after some of the crack dens she's probably taken kids out of, she's started seeing evil everywhere.”

              “Wow, aren't you the philosopher?” Elise forced herself to continue smiling despite the goosebumps that had suddenly spread down her arms. He had no idea about the worst of people...

              Alex distracted her from her ruminations by insisting that they take a quick detour down the main street in town so Elise could point out good places to get ice cream or takeout Chinese, and startled her when he greeted the lady at the takeout counter in fluent Mandarin. That quickly sparked a discussion about his love of languages, which evolved into a debate over literature. They spent the last ten minutes of the walk arguing the classics verses modern novels, and Elise laughed more than she had in a long time as she found herself playing devil's advocate just to watch Alex's face turn blotchy when she resolutely insisted that Dickens was an obsolete fraud. He turned the tables on her, though, and despite the fact that she could see the smile he was trying to suppress, she still couldn't help spending an extra five minutes on her front walk ranting at him after he told her that
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
was, in his opinion, a complete waste of ink. It was nice, she reflected after he'd finally admitted defeat and left her on her front porch again, to just have a generally frivolous conversation with someone. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to have regular friends.