The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 30 - The Dance

I stare back at him wanting to tell him I know exactly how that feels but as he turns his face away from mine, my heart sinks deeply and takes my voice down with it. I hate that he doesn't talk to me the way he makes me talk to him. I want to be there for him just like he is there for me.

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

"Whatever you say," I sigh sadly leaning into him, insisting on breaking through his barrier. "For all I know, the old Jeremy is even worse than you."

He looks down at his fingers, pondering, wallowing around somewhere in his own darkness until a slow, sarcastic smile creeps 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 barks through a disbelieving laugh.

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

"No, you can't," I agree. "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 responds with a victorious gleam in his eyes.

"All over you?" I splutter.

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

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

"Except Jacob," he interrupts and I suck 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 makes my mouth dry but I get the feeling I may have bruised his ego slightly and my pride swells just a little.

"Ha! Yes, very charming, Mr Darcy!" I reply sarcastically, secretly hoping it's too dark for him to see my flaming cheeks.

"Darcy?" He considers this for a moment as he chews on his lower lip. "Funny, I've always considered myself as more of a Heathcliff. You know, the gloomy creature who never fit into his society, terribly misunderstood and turned rebellious?"

"Heathcliff? No way!" I banter. "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 protests.

I raise my eyebrows at him. He basically just described himself.

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