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
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
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