I put on a dark green, mid-length dress. My dress. The one dress that gives those 'feel good' vibes. I think it's the way the material flows around my knees.

I pull my hair into a soft updo and let some strands fall casually on my shoulders so that it doesn't look like I've put too much effort into it. I put on a pair of black, peep-toe heels and apply my favourite red lipstick. I look steadily into the mirror as I splash some perfume on my neck. 

The dragons in my stomach are back. I can't believe this is happening. I don't think I can fool myself into thinking this is not a date this time.

I open the window and let in the cool breeze. It's beginning to smell like spring. The nights are already getting warmer. 

I grab a light black shawl and step out into the living room to find Jeremy standing in front of the panoramic window. He is perfectly still save for the discreet twitching of his left knee, hands in his pocket, back straight as a line. He turns as he hears the door to my room close and our eyes meet across the room. The sight of him takes my breath away.

Oh my God... this is happening!

He looks strikingly handsome in dark blue jeans, a black pullover and a casual light grey shirt underneath. He looks me up and down and his eyes shine brightly as they settle on my lips. The intense burning grows deep in my abdomen. As I walk up to him, his eyes follow me with a devilish glimmer, as though he knows something I don't.

"Ready, Sparky?" he asks, smoothly.

Damn you, Jeremy James Cordina!

I nod, suddenly wanting nothing more than to stay here. Ignore the hunger for food, ignore the utter and complete mess we are making and just go back to bed, sate the other hunger that's torturing my body. 

But Jeremy makes his way quickly out the door, so I follow him out onto the pavement and watch him walk towards a mean-looking, sleek, grey car. Its lights flicker twice as he reaches it.

My jaw drops. "What happened to the Porsche?" I ask, the disappointment clear in my voice.

Jeremy holds the passenger door open for me, avoiding my eyes. "I upgraded," he answers shortly as I climb in.

The inside of the new car is very lush. It has beautiful cream leather seats and buttons and gadgets everywhere. It reminds me of the inside of a private jet, or rather what I imagine the inside of a private jet would look like. He climbs into the driver's seat and raises an eyebrow at me.

"Seatbelt," he orders.

"When?"

"Now."

"When did you sell the Porsche?" I ask impatiently rolling my eyes.

He exhales through his nose and reaches over to put the seatbelt on me himself. As he leans in, his delicious scent hits my brain and it makes the hairs on my neck stand on edge. He keeps his face half an inch away from mine, looking deeply into my eyes as he clicks the buckle into place. I squirm a little in my seat but force myself to focus. The barely-there smirk on his mouth tells me that he's heard my breath hitch in my throat. 

He's doing it on purpose. To get a thrill from the way his proximity affects me.

"Three weeks ago," he replies into my mouth.

It takes all my self-restraint and more not to defy him, challenge him, suck on his lower lip. He is so close that I would barely need to move. Maybe just tilt my head a little, if that. He'd deserve it, but my curiosity wins over my pride.

Three weeks. I had already moved into his apartment. He wasn't exactly in a good place then. Then a scary thought crosses my mind and my mouth is just as quick as my brain.

"Oh my God! Did you crash it? Were you hurt?"

He exhales, releasing some of the tension from his shoulders, and sits back sourly in his seat. "I didn't crash it," he replies, starting the car.

Just like the Porsche, this car comes to life with an intimidating roar but this one sounds less familiar. More aggressive.

We take off. He drives at moderate speed, eyes on the road and without saying a word, just like old times. I look cheekily at him out of the corner of my eye. Despite my concerns about going out with him earlier, I'm starting to think this is exactly what we need to get our minds off things. A distraction from our distraction. More than that, the familiarity, the normality of being back in a car with him, on our way to eat and talk, just the two of us, is more grounding than I could have imagined.

"No," he says after a while.

"What?" I ask defensively, hearing the irritation in his voice loud and clear.

"I'm not doing it," he answers simply.

"I didn't say anything!"

He raises one eyebrow in reply.

"Oh, come on just once!" I beg.

"No."

I don't say anything else but keep looking at him pleadingly through my eyelashes and biting my lower lip just slightly, knowing that this always does him in.

His eyes flicker in my direction and he immediately looks away, sighing and pursing his lips. "Stop it."

I see a corner approaching and I turn in my seat to face him, making sure that the slit in my dress accidentally stretches open over my right thigh in the process. Suddenly, his eyes come alive with a familiar, fiery gleam. The corner of his mouth twitches slightly. Adrenaline starts bubbling inside me and my lips involuntarily stretch into an excited grin. Without warning, Jeremy swerves the car dangerously to the left. I scream with joy as I hang onto the dashboard in front of me.

As we glide across the main road, it feels like time has stopped. I look at his face, calm and focused. He looks so good. He looks happy. The realisation that I could get used to this makes me uncomfortable. The realisation that I already am terrifies me.

Jeremy turns his face towards me, as though he can hear my thoughts, and gives me a cheeky wink and a shadow of a smile to go with it. I breathe out my fear.

Until dinner.

I promised.

We'll deal with this later.

"This car is better for drifting," he says factually after he brings the car back to face in the right direction and continues on the road.

"I see," I reply, grinning from ear to ear unable to stop myself.

"It's a Jag F-Type. It has a 2.0 litre... Oh, you don't care!"

I laugh back automatically and he smiles slowly, knowingly. My heart goes wild. What is this man doing to me?

He parks his Jag F-Type on a busy street in Sliema and quickly rushes out of the car. I turn to the passenger door, but then I recoil realising he's just opened it for me.

We walk together until we find a small, quiet restaurant. Jeremy keeps his hand on the small of my back the whole time, his warmth leaving a print on my skin. The waiter directs us to a snug little table in the corner of the rustic restaurant. Jeremy orders a bottle of still water, a bottle of Cheval Franc and two plates of pasta off the menu. We wait quietly for the drinks, stealing nervous glances at one another across the table. The wine arrives mercifully quickly and I smirk as Jeremy does his wine thingy after the waiter leaves.

He smiles softly at me and then says, "You look really pretty tonight, do you know that?"

I roll my eyes at him but blush incessantly under his gaze. I hope he doesn't see my heart glowing beneath my dress. This is just food, he said. This is just us having a meal, like we've done countless times before.

Yeah, right.

The food arrives and it smells magnificent, making me realise how hungry I am.

We eat and drink happily and the conversation starts flowing like the ebbing wine. I tell him all about my job and the people I work with. He scowls unashamedly when I mention Robert and narrows his eyes at me when mine roll back.

Then he tells me about how his father's behaviour has worsened after the scene he caused at his apartment. He wasn't happy that Jeremy finally stood up to him. My hand instinctively reaches out for his, remembering how his father was with him and his mother when he was only a little boy. His eyes glaze over a little as he stares at my hand on his, so I decide to change the subject.

I tell him that I had resumed my lessons with Marisa and this noticeably cheers him up. Soon we're discussing what The Odyssey and The Iliad would read like if they were written in Victorian times. We laugh and we argue until we agree to disagree.

Then Jeremy surprises me by saying that he's thinking about meeting up with his mother again after so many years. I try not to let my emotions get the better of me as he talks about this but I can't hold back a small smile, touched that he's finally opening up to me about his family and that he's at least considering remedying his relationship with one of his parents.

We talk about Millie. I tell him about how much I miss her and he tells me how her loss has affected him too. At this point, the wine bottle is empty and we're both close to tearing up but I'm relieved at how comfortable it still is to talk to him. It feels normal. Real. It feels good.

"I wonder what she'd say if she were here now," he says as he stares at his empty wine glass.

I look up at him and seeing the genuine curiosity in his eyes, I think about it myself. But I don't have to think about it for long. "She'd be taking the mickey out of us, no doubt! She was ruthless. But she... um... she loved you like a son. So, I'm guessing she'd probably say it was about damn time we did something about... about whatever this is."

He doesn't look up at me and even though the changes in his expression are very minimal, I can tell that his mood has taken a turn for the worse. His scowl is slightly deeper, eyes slightly more clouded, brows closer together.

"You're the reason she hated Keith so much. She felt he could never measure up to you," I say without thinking.

"She was right. Keith's an asshole."

I give him a small smile, trying not to laugh at his reaction. And then, after contemplating me for a few seconds he opens his mouth hesitantly.

"Can I ask you something?" The sadness in his eyes makes my heart drop but I nod slowly. "How come you never... you know... before last night?"

The heat rises to my cheeks and I consider telling him to mind his own business. But just like always, I hear myself answering within two seconds. "You ask that as though you don't know me."

His face falls noticing the sting in my voice. "I'm sorry," he apologises, "I didn't mean it like that. I just thought that with Keith..."

I can't blame him for what is going through his mind. I am twenty-two years old. I lived with my ex-boyfriend for four months. 

"After Jake," I start softly, knowing I will regret answering him, "I never trusted anyone enough to sleep with them. He had hurt me too much and I didn't want to repeat my mistake. I had already given so many firsts to someone who didn't deserve them. I didn't want to give more of myself to anyone unless I was completely sure. I guess, I was never sure of Keith."

I don't know how I was expecting him to react, but I cannot ignore the pang I feel in my heart as his lips tighten and he looks away from me again.

Yesterday, I let Jeremy do things to me that I would never have let Keith or anyone else get away with. And then again, this morning and this afternoon and the only thing I'm sure of with Jeremy is that I can never be sure of anything with him.

The waiter comes over to our table and clears away our empty plates, glasses and the bottle. Jeremy orders two espressos without asking me if I want one and then pays the bill. I smile to myself, remembering how angry his controlling behaviour used to make me. It still does but it feels so pointless battling with him when what we're facing right now is nothing short of war.

As we walk back towards the car, I notice how quiet Jeremy is and it's not his usual brooding silence. Whatever is on his mind is bothering him.

I slip my hand into his. He squeezes my fingers and we continue to walk in silence. But when we reach the car, instead of opening the door for me like he usually does, he stops, takes my other hand and pulls me towards him. His face is grave and determined at the same time and it makes my heart lurch terrifyingly.

"You're right," he starts, staring at my hands in his as his thumbs gently caress my knuckles. "We can't keep this up forever, Ally. And I know we said till after dinner, but if you think I can just let you waltz into your room tonight and just forget about the past few hours you must be out of your mind. It's already taking all my willpower not to rip that dress off you right here, right now."

"Well, you could at least wait until we get in the car!" I say jokingly, suddenly wanting nothing more than for him to do just that.

"No, Ally," he goes on unfazed. "We need to talk and it has to be now because I won't be able to if we get in that car."