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!"

"Your craft? Oh my God, you're so full of it!" I laugh.

"Picture this," he starts, gearing up into arguing position. "We are somewhere nice, like a classy whiskey bar or something."

"I don't drink whiskey," I interrupt.

"Well, in this fantasy you do!" he retorts irritably. I shut up and purse my lips to hold back my smile letting him get on with his story. "You're laughing with your friends in a corner, having a good time and I'm eyeing you from across the room. I come over to you and offer you a drink."

"Hmm, bold but well-mannered. I like it," I say in mock approval.

"You sure do. So, I hand you the drink I've already bought for you because I did my research and asked the bartender what the lovely lady in the corner is drinking. See, Ally? Effort. We engage in proper conversation. Interesting. Funny. A bit of flirting, of course, but nothing too obvious because I know you love a challenge, being a woman and all that crap." He rolls his eyes as he says this but doesn't let it interrupt his narrative. "Then, just when I see you're getting hooked, I ask you to dance."

I open my mouth to argue but he raises his hand to stop me and shifts around so that his body is facing me. The glimmer in his eyes shuts me up more effectively than a hand gesture ever could.

"You take my hand and follow me out onto the dance floor, glancing around the room to see if people are looking." Now it's my turn to roll my eyes but again, he goes on unfazed. "I place my hand respectfully on the small of your back and when I spin you around, your face lights up and you throw your head back happily and laugh, just like you were laughing with your friends earlier. That's how I know I have you. And then, when the song is over, I pull you in, thank you for the dance, Ally," he looks straight at me as my name rolls off his tongue smoothly, pinning me to the ground with those ice-cold blue eyes of his, breath catching in my throat just like a butterfly caught in a net, "and disappear magically into the crowd."

My brain is so focused on trying to restart my lungs that it's barely able to process his words. Eventually, it gets there.

"What?" I ask confused.

"Oh, don't worry," Jeremy replies with a smug grin on his face, clearly satisfied with my reaction. "I'll make sure you find me just as I'm heading out the door..." he pauses and puts his thumb on my parted lips, fingers grazing my chin. "You ask for my number and I..." his fingertips thread up my jawline and travel down my neck, over my shoulders, down my arm, "take your hand," he goes on slowly, his voice nothing more than a whisper now as he gently takes my hand in his, "and take you home."

He's not smiling anymore. On the contrary, he looks very serious as his long fingers weave through mine. I stare back at him, unable to tear my eyes away and then, the deja vu hits me like a cruel bolt of lightning crashing through the starry sky.

I've lived through this. I have met the old Jeremy. We ran through the exact same scenario four years ago at the Christmas party, but we only made it to the nice conversation. We never got to the dancing and the twirling and the happy laughter.

I breathe in the cold air. It feels as sharp as ten knives piercing through my lungs. Sosa was right. This man preys on women without them knowing what hit them! I feel stupid and a little sick and just as I'm about to tell him that I don't like the old Jeremy, my Jeremy is back.

He opens his mouth and says, "Dance with me."

I'm stunned speechless. Part of me wants to tell him to fuck off, that I'm not just a routine or another conquest. But for some reason, it doesn't feel like that. It's as though he knows exactly what I'm thinking and wants to make it up to me. 

He stands up, my hand still in his, and pulls me up gently. His left arm slithers to the small of my back as I look into his guarded but beautiful face. He pulls me closer, firmly but softly, until my body is pressed to his, his scent filling my brain, soothing yet intoxicating, and starts humming gently to a tune I know I've heard before but can't really register.

Slowly, we begin to move together, first in the same spot and then revolving in a circle. My head tilts slowly onto his chest, against his heart. I hear its familiar beating, steady, the ragged sharpness of his breaths. He hums a little louder as he takes a step backwards and spins me around, then quickly pulls me back to him. I feel my lips curl into a smile. His eyes are twinkling like the silver stars above us, full of secrets, full of riddles for me to solve. They gleam boldly as he turns me again, pulls me back in and pushes forward with the hand that's holding mine. I lean backwards into a low dip as he holds me from my waist.

I can't help it. I throw my head back and laugh. He smiles and his humming picks up the pace. He pulls me up and lifts me effortlessly into the air. I giggle mercilessly as he spins around with me in his arms. I wrap my hands around his neck as everything but his face becomes a blur, the one constant in an otherwise whirling world. Then he slows down, puts me back on the ground and leads me straight into another dip.

Our eyes lock. I stop laughing. He stops humming. Our smiles slide off our faces. His chest is heaving, as is mine. I try desperately to break the hypnotising eye contact, but I can't. My brain is struggling to take control of my body but it's a complete waste of time. My neurons have completely lost their functional ability.

I observe his face, trying to read his thoughts through his eyes which have gone dark, fearsome. A crease forms between his brows, almost like he's in pain. His hand is trembling in mine. He straightens and pulls me up with him, but he doesn't let go. And he doesn't look away. I'm lost and captivated by his stormy gaze, vaguely aware of his hand gliding up my spine until it gets lost in my hair. I want to say something but the sudden fear in my chest doesn't let me.

And just when I realise what's happening, just when I'm surprised at how good his fingers feel as they spread open to caress my cheek, my hair still tangled around them, surprised at how natural it feels to lean against his body, it's over. The storm in his eyes clears and is replaced by a dull void. The rise and fall of his chest slows down. The tight grip on my hand is relinquished. The warmth of his hand on the back of my head disappears, leaving it bare and exposed to a cool breeze that sends a shiver down my spine.

Jeremy's eyes fall to the ground. The sound of the whooshing waves and the roaring cars explodes in my ears as he staggers backwards, looking like he's been slapped in the face and then punched in the stomach. I literally see the brick wall coming back up behind his pupils just as mine collapses. He takes his keys out of his pocket.

"Jeremy..." I breathe.

But he turns around and strides off to the parking lot. The car beeps and the lights flicker behind the bushes. My brain and body finally reconnect and I follow him wordlessly.