The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 30 - The Dance

I stared back at him, wanting to tell him I knew exactly how that felt, but as he turned his face away from mine, my heart sank deeply and took my voice down with it. I hated that he didn't talk to me the way I felt compelled to talk to him. I wanted to be there for him just as he was there for me.

"Don't worry about it, Sparky. It's nothing you need to concern yourself with," he said after a long, quiet pause. His voice, contrary to his words, was sad and heavy.

"Whatever you say," I sighed sadly, set on breaking through his barrier. "For all I know, the old Jeremy is even worse than you."

He looked down at his fingers, wallowing somewhere in his own darkness until a slow, sarcastic smile crept onto his face. "I love how you make it sound like I'm not the same person."

"You're not. The carefree man drifting across the streets of Malta was nothing like the man sitting next to me now. And neither is the notorious heartbreaker everyone keeps warning me about."

"Warning you? Who's warning you?"

"Everyone! Including yourself. And you know what? I'm not sure I'm okay with that."

"What?" he barked through a disbelieving laugh.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Maybe I don't want to be stuck with the stern, stuck-up Jeremy all the time. Maybe I'd like a bit of the young, nonchalant rogue for a change."

Jeremy shook his head. "Trust me, you have the better version. Besides, I can't be that guy with you."

"No, you can't," I agreed. "I'd see straight through your bullshit."

"Language, Sparky. And yes, you might... But you would still be all over me. And we can't have that, can we?" he responded with a victorious gleam in his eyes.

"All over you?" I spluttered.

"Mhm," he insisted, his enigmatic smile now shamelessly consuming his lips.

"You're pretty cocky for an old man, aren't you? I'll have you know I have never been 'all over' anyone!"

"Except Jacob," he interrupted, and I sucked in a sharp breath at his boldness. "And I'm not exactly old, I'm thirty-two. I'm at the point where age, beauty and experience are perfectly balanced."

"Ah, but you forget, Mr Cordina, that I don't fit your formula. I may have daddy issues but I don't need to prove anything to you. And I'm definitely more brains than beauty. So your charm won't work on me."

"That says a lot about your intellect then. Look, I'm not being arrogant, I'm being factual. You know as well as I that I can charm those torn jeans right off you."

His smile made my mouth dry, but I got the feeling I might have bruised his ego slightly, and my pride swelled just a little.

"Ha! Yes, very charming. Did you get that line from Mr Darcy himself?" I replied sarcastically, secretly hoping it was too dark for him to see my flaming cheeks.

"Darcy?" He considered this for a moment as he chewed on his lower lip. "Funny, I've always considered myself more of a Heathcliff. You know, gloomy creature, misfit, terribly misunderstood and turned rebellious?"

"Heathcliff? No way!" I bantered. "Vronsky, maybe. But not Heathcliff!"

"Oh, come on! Vronsky's a spoilt brat. He expects everyone to bow to him without even putting in any effort," he protested.

I raised my eyebrows at him. He had basically just described himself.

"How dare you!" he exclaimed, pretending to be offended. "I put a lot of effort into my craft!"