He growled, thumping the metal again and this time the charge sent tiny fragments of broken glass down onto the pavement, glittering faintly like flakes of snow or diamonds falling from the sky. He couldn't believe what a fool he'd been. How could he have expected for a few sweet words to have charmed her back onto his side. He was over her, he was, he told himself, but what he wanted was for her not to be over him. He wanted her to want him back, to apologise for their break up and for her to brush her hand over his chest again, look up at him with those beautiful dark eyes and see adoration in them as well as his own reflection.
Was that too much to ask? It hadn't even been his fault! And she, she, she was the one who had been bitchy, who had laughed at him and mocked him. No, she was over him... or was she, he thought suddenly. Was she over him? She had wanted to embarrass him, to have him seen as weak and her as powerful, as a victor. If she was over him, she would have let it go. She probably had been waiting all night, watching him, waiting for the right moment to approach.
She was still head-over-heels in love with him, he realised. Completely mad for him. That was it. The sudden understanding made him stand up straight, made him smile, made him feel once more the cock-sure attractive young man he knew he was. He was turning now to head back inside when he saw her silhouetted against the light from inside. "Getting colder out here." He said to her, the smirk back in place like it had never left his face, "Don't catch a cold, Audrey my love."