“Not quite twenty, no,” he answered her, opening up one eye. He shut it just as quickly and opened the other one, and then spent a few moments switching back and forth, watching her jump around in his vision. “Looking at me, do you reckon I could pass for about sixteen?” he asked, trying to sound as though the answer didn't matter to him a whit, though he was quite concerned with what her response might be. On a good day it would have been optimistic of him to think he could pass for twelve, considering how shrimpy and big eyed and baby faced he was, his choice in outfits causing him to resemble a cross between an organ grinder's monkey and a madame alexander doll. Even so, he was hopeful. Fifteen didn't get a lad anything he didn't already have, but sixteen could get you a job if you had a knack for stretching the truth. He had this twisted idea that once he was sixteen, everything would make sense. It seemed both a little too far away and a little too close. 

”You need some real romance to write about. Somebody to get really sappy and heartbroken over. It would be good for you.”

“Know what I'm heartbroken over? Your playing,” he laughed, clearly teasing. He swung one leg around the chair to meet the other and rose to his feet, coming down to sit beside her on the bench. “You're the best mate I ever had, Julia, gunning for me to get my heart broken and all. That's what everyone wants for their friends,” he chuckled, throwing an arm over her shoulder. He knew what she meant, though. She wanted him to feel something. Keats and his pals were all really horny for nature, and that seemed to be good enough for them, but Jamie didn't have that sort of fixation. He had a Julia, who he really did think was lovely and worthy of a hundred love ballads, but as far as muses went, she only provided so much material. He slipped his arm away and reached out  to play a nice, loud dissonant chord, which sounded like a cue for a villain to enter the room. “Who should I hire to break my heart? You have someone in mind?” 


a simple rule that every good man knows by heart: its smarter to be lucky than its lucky to be smart