Flicker Page 5

  At the same point, though, she couldn't deny that they had fun together. She had caught herself laughing more freely than she had in years because of him, at points when she hadn't felt influenced or manipulated at all. Moreover, there were times when he put the arrogance, the games, aside-- those few times, she had seen a seriousness in him that she had never encountered in anyone else her age. Something about his fervent sincerity made her feel almost safe-- a sensation that, even more than carefree happiness, was all but alien to her now.

  As she strolled through the park on her way to school, Elise caught herself glancing over at the tree he had backed her against and the field where he had flopped comically into the grass, as if she expected to see him there. She felt remarkably calm and centered about everything that had gone on yesterday, as if just organizing the pros and cons of their interactions had given her more control over them. And perhaps it had-- Elise didn't feel nearly so shaken now, walking across the damp grass under the heavy gray sky.

  A thought came to her, surprising a delighted giggle from her lips. She decided she would chance the rain this afternoon, and see if Alex liked it as much as she did. She'd teach him to put her off balance.

  For a moment, Alexander looked between Elise, the vine-laden wrought iron archway, and back again like she was out of her mind. Then, in a dry voice that went perfectly with his raised eyebrows, he simply said, “I hope you brought an umbrella.”

  Elise grinned at him. “Where's the fun in that?” She asked in a light tone, her chin tilted up playfully. “Think of it this way-- at least you left that dinner jacket at home!” And with that, she skipped off down the gravel path.

  Alexander followed her at a more leisurely pace, content for the moment to allow her to lead him through the foliage. From here, he could watch and appreciate the way her skirts swirled gracefully with the sway of her hips. Her hair blew back when she turned to see if he was still behind her, and he caught himself admiring the beauty in the shape of her face, in her wide smile and twinkling eyes. She looked like she was dancing as she moved through the flowers, bending now and then to smell a rose or brush her fingertips across a leaf. Seeing her like this, at peace and in her element, might be worth braving the oncoming storm.

  He was still chuckling at her choice for a date: she had simply given him directions as he drove, so he had been quite surprised to find that their destination was a large botanical garden a few towns away. He supposed he shouldn't have been; he had already noticed how much more comfortable she was when she was surrounded by nature. However, he had thought the weather would have deterred her from outdoor activities. Alexander thought rather ruefully that he ought to have realized by now: Elise wasn't the sort of girl who cared more about her hair and makeup than she did her ability to walk in the rain. He also felt a smirk crawl across his face when he considered the possibility that she had chosen this venue with the rain in mind, knowing that she didn't mind being caught in a storm, but that most people would. This girl was becoming more and more fun by the minute. Still smirking, he broke in to a gentle jog to catch up with her.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance as Elise led Alexander further into the gardens. Except for them, the grounds were deserted-- the other patrons had either gone home or taken shelter in the garden's small cafe to wait out the storm. As fat raindrops started to hit the path around them, Elise disappeared around a curve of shrubbery. Following her, Alexander found himself standing before a cozy wooden gazebo that was all but hidden in a grove of weeping willow trees. Elise stood in the doorway, grinning.

  “Well, come in before you get wet,” she called.

  This was definitely a testament to the changes that could take place over a few hours of conversation, Elise thought as Alex pulled his car up in front of her house. Just two days ago, she had been so frightened of him that she hadn't wanted him to know her name, and now she had no qualms about his knowing exactly where she lived. Though, she reflected, it would be sort of stupid to get squeamish about such a thing now, when she'd been willing to get into his car and spend an entire afternoon alone with him.

  “Do I need to park out of your parents' way?” He asked, peering through the pounding rain at the dark house. “Won't they be home soon?”

  “Nah,” Elise shrugged. “They go out right after work on Fridays-- they won't be home for hours. So,” she ventured as he put the car in park. “Any big weekend plans?” She tried to keep her tone and expression neutral, but his small smile as he turned toward her let her know she wasn't fooling him.

  “Actually, yes,” he said. “Sorry, miss. I have a cousin in New York with a very unfortunately timed birthday-- I won't be back from his party until late Sunday night.”

  Elise forced a smile in return. “Ah, well, if you're hung over Monday I reserve the right to laugh at you. Loudly. While I shine bright lights in your eyes.”

  Alex laughed. “If I let myself get that drunk, you'll be well within your rights to do so. Though,” he added thoughtfully. “I can't promise I'll be so charitable at the time.”

  “Oh?” She asked, curious and a little cautious. “Are you an angry drunk? Or at least, angry the day after?”

  “Oh no,” he said with a chuckle. “I melt. If-- and by eighth period, that's a big if-- I'm still hung over when you see me, most likely I'll collapse on my desk and drool all over it for a while.”

  Elise gave a genuine laugh at the picture he painted. Somehow, it was difficult to imagine this elegant, poised young man drooling on a desk.

  “Well, if that happens, I'll be sure to take a picture,” she said, still smiling a little.

  “I don't have any plans for next weekend,” he volunteered. “Why don't I pick you up on Saturday?”

  “That's definitely doable,” she replied. “Dare I ask what we're doing?”

  “Oh, no, I'll keep that a surprise. But make no mistake: it's my turn to pick.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, and Elise swallowed down a sudden nervous fluttering in her stomach.

  “Oh, goodness,” was all she said as she grabbed her bag. Then she paused, her hand on the door handle, and looked up into his eyes. “Thank you for today, Alex. It was really nice.”

  He met her gaze seriously. “It was,” he said with sincerity. “I'll see you Monday, Elise.”

  She blushed at the warmth in his tone, and without looking back, hopped out of the car and ran through the sheets of rain to her front porch. She had closed the door behind her before he pulled away.

  “Morning, honey!” Marie said brightly and with a touch of surprise as Elise came into the kitchen at seven o' clock on Monday. Elise had, without too much embarrassment, laid out her clothes the night before, and as a result was running early. Robert glanced up from his paper, unused to seeing his daughter before he left for work, and nodded to her. Elise saw that he was only a quarter of the way into his mug of coffee, and didn't begrudge him the lackluster greeting. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and plopped onto a stool at the bar, immediately regretting not grabbing her book from her backpack first but deciding she'd rather eat the cereal while it was still crunchy than bother going to get it now. Her parents were talking to each other, but she barely paid any attention, musing instead over the plot twists of the new book she had almost finished over the weekend.

  “And the Dow is down again,” her father was saying from behind his newspaper. Her mother, sipping coffee while she packed her lunch, nodded. “I was hoping for an upturn over the weekend, to give our customers a little more incentive to invest. I think I'll set a conference call this afternoon, to tell the branch managers they'll have to push a little harder.” The Inquirer rustled as he turned a page, and Elise vaguely heard him “hmph” in disgust. “There was a riot in some nightclub in New York over the weekend, apparently.”

  “Was there really?” Marie actually turned to look at him. “So close to home? That's terrible. People weren't hurt, were they?”

  Robert glanced at his wife's nervous face and interpreted her
concern. “You have to expect these things in the city, dear. But these sorts of crime waves never spread to the suburbs-- people go to those stupid clubs to act up, but they burn themselves out. We're two hours from New York-- if not for the news, we'd never even know things like that went on.”

  Elise glanced over at her father, her stomach twisting as she hoped he would give more details, but unwilling to ask and have to fabricate an excuse for her sudden interest. She bit her lip, worried that Alex had been hurt in the riot-- after all, he'd said he'd be in New York all weekend. But that was silly, she told herself. There had to be hundreds of clubs in the city; the odds of him being at that particular one were extremely low. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness that overtook her, but to her disappointment her father didn't say anything else on the subject. She ate faster, eager to get to school despite the fact that she already knew she wouldn't see Alex until last period. She hoped she might at least get some clue that he was all right. Contrary to most of her peers, Elise didn't harbor any illusions that tragedy only happened on TV.

  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-- someth
ing 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.