Flicker by Arreyn Grey Page B

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--