A ROMANCE IN CANNES

Chapter 20

There was a knock at my place around seven-thirty.

“I’m coming!” I flew towards the door.

I nervously glanced around the room, hoping it wasn’t someone coming into my apartment. Once again, order was far from reigning there.

I discover Victor on the doorstep.

“Hey! How are you?” I asked.

“Good.”

I was waiting for the follow-up, which was slow in coming. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, drawing my longing female gaze to his very appetising bicep. I really needed to have a little more action in my life, I might jump on any man at any moment. I was becoming dangerous.

“I was thinking since you’ve already made me food twice, could I offer to return the favour?” he finally said.

He looked so insecure it was adorable.

“That’s very nice, but… do you really think you’ll cook? You told me cooking wasn’t your forte,” I reminded him.

“Indeed, I would like to avoid poisoning you, I thought I could order something. What do you like? Pizza?”

“A pizza would be fine with me. I haven’t eaten one for ages, and I still haven’t had the opportunity to test the pizzeria that involuntarily lights up my living room.”

“Mmm, if you’re talking about the one downstairs, I wouldn’t recommend buying anything from there,” he grimaced.

“Why?”

“You really don’t want to know. Take my word for it, that’s all.”

“Okay, I trust you to order good pizza elsewhere.”

I thought back to his way of shopping and added:

“Something tells me you know your stuff.”

“We can say that,” he smiles.

He gives me an appointment at his house half an hour later. Just enough time for me to put away a few things.

When he ushered me into his apartment, a delicious smell greeted me.

“The pizzas have just arrived,” he told me.

“Great, I’m starving.”

Like the first time, we sat down at the kitchen table. We ate silently if we put aside my moans of pleasure when I crunched into the perfect crispy dough, and the taste of the tomato sauce drove my taste buds crazy.

“It’s really delicious,” I admit once my pizza is done.

My belly was about to explode, but I was happy.

“I understand you liked it,” he commented with a small smile.

Damn, maybe I went a bit overboard. I really don’t know how to stand.

“It’s still nice to eat together, rather than both of us alone,” I pointed out.

“Hm, hm.”

“You must spend a lot of time alone. It’s quite lonely, as a writer, as a profession. I don’t know if I would like that…,” I said.

“In my job before, although I had colleagues, I was alone in front of my computer. Here, I’m not completely alone, I have my characters with me.”

“You know you just gave me the perfect argument to call the asylum?” I joked.

He frowned, I clarified for him.

“I have my characters with me… Do you talk to them?”

“I recognize that it’s a little strange,” he admits. “But please don’t call the psychiatrists right away, I’m fine.”

“Why did you quit your job before? Wasn’t it compatible to continue to work in IT and write on the side?”

He took a deep breath before he answered me.

“My personal life and my professional life were too intertwined, I had to make a choice.”

“And what does that mean?”

I was aware that he probably remained vague for a good reason, but I understood that, with Victor, if I showed myself curious, he’d open up. I didn’t know if he did this with everyone, or only with me, but I had the power to make him talk, so I might as well take advantage of it.

“I set up my business with my ex-wife.”

I suddenly understood his remark about the mixture of his two lives.

“A long time ago?”

“At the end of our studies, almost ten years ago.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, he seemed lost in thought, and I didn’t want to rush him. I was aware that talking about his ex was a sensitive subject.

“At first it was just the two of us. I developed the programs, she did the merchandising and marketing. We were lucky, good investors followed us, and we grew little by little. Almost two years ago, I realised that she was cheating on me. After we divorced, it had become complicated to work together, so I sold her my shares. There it is.”

This revelation left me with more questions than answers, but it gave me a little more understanding of Victor. As I was certain that he would add nothing, I questioned him:

“And now?”

“Now I’m writing a book.”

No kidding.

“And you haven’t tried to rebuild your life?”

He shrugged his shoulders, staring at the kitchen behind my back. I guess his ex hadn’t left him emotionally unscathed.

“I haven’t had the opportunity to meet someone who interests me.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I get the feeling you don’t go out much. I doubt you’ll meet her throwing your trash in the garbage chute.”

“Listening to you, it sounds like I’m living like a hermit,” he grumbled.

“Ah, yes? Do you go out often? I mean with friends.”

“Most of my friends are fathers, they generally don’t get out much. And as for dining at their house, it’s always a little strange to come alone. You find yourself being the fifth wheel, quite often. Except when one of their wives decided this would be the perfect opportunity to introduce you to one of her single girlfriends. I think I still prefer it when it’s my mother who tries to matchmake me.”

“Ooh! That much?”

“You have no idea what a woman looking for a husband is capable of when her girlfriend has been teasing her for weeks, promising to introduce her to the perfect man.”

“You should write a trivia book about it.”

“Now that would be a fast track to crazy town,” he said, making a small movement with his eyebrows telling me he was joking.

“And have you ever tried dating sites?” I asked.

“Dating sites? To do what?”

“Well, you know it’s used to put you in touch with…”

“I know what it is, thank you. It’s not for me.”

“You can’t know until you try. And then lots of couples form like that now.”

“No thanks. I prefer to do this the old fashioned way.”

“You mean you’re secretly hoping that a damsel in distress asks for your help grabbing a tin can off the top shelf at the supermarket and that the moment you hand her the tin of cat food, you’ll detect in the depths of her eyes the gleam of your soul mate?”

“You have an overflowing imagination. You should write books,” he grumbled.

“My turn to decline the offer. But, you know, I met a lot of guys through dating sites, and most of them were good guys.”

“You’re on a dating site?”

He asks this question with a hint of horror in his voice.

“Several even.”

“But why?”

“Well, because I like having a little company once in a while.”

“You don’t have friends for that?”

“My friends don’t bring me the same kind of company.”

He didn’t seem to understand, so I specify:

“I don’t sleep with my friends.”

“Ah,” he just replied.

“Why do you refuse to try?”

“Because, through a computer, you cannot observe people’s reactions. A perfect psychopath can be charming with a keyboard in their hands. Whereas when you meet people in real life, it’s easier to read their emotions on their faces.”

“It’s almost ironic that you’re the one saying that.”

“Why?”

“You spend half your time behind a screen. And then you’re one of the hardest guys to read. Or maybe it’s the opposite if it happens, you’re afraid of revealing too much of yourself with a computer in your hands.”

“Are you into over-the-counter psychology now?” he said sarcastically.

“No. I’m just trying to understand your logic. In any case, it’s guys who come up to me in a bar without my inviting them that makes me think of a psychopath.”

“I didn’t say that they were all concentrated behind their computers. There are also some in nature.”

“As there are also good people behind their screens. But, anyway, I don’t even see how I could convince you, since you refuse to use an app to make up your own mind.”

“I don’t need to use it for myself, I know exactly what’s on it.”

“And I wonder how you could possibly know that!”

“I know because I created one of these apps!” he said, raising his voice.

His revelation cut mine off. I watch him speechless.

“The company I created was developing an online dating app,” he explained to me more calmly. “You may understand that I don’t want to use it for myself.”

I say nothing, the time to digest the information. Victor got up and cleared the table, he was tense.

“I guess it just makes sense that you don’t want to use those kinds of apps,” I admitted after a moment.

“Could we talk about something else?”

He still looked annoyed.

“Okay! When are we going out for a drink?”

“Why do you want to go out?” he grumbled as he put the plates in the dishwasher.

“Because even if your apartment is very nice, it would be cool to change the view. And then, you’ll have the opportunity to test your charm on the ladies. Who knows, maybe one of them will be to your liking?”

“I’m going to apologise to my mother and my friends’ wives, there’s worse than them, there’s you.”

“Come on! We’re really going to enjoy ourselves! Besides, since you just banned me from using the Internet to meet someone, you have to come play chaperone with me.”

He turns, crosses his arms over his chest, and stares at me for a long moment. Once again, I had a hard time understanding what could be going on in his head. It was sad that a guy like him was so lonely.

He was pretty cute if you like the geek style, with his messy hair and his glasses. He seemed a little withdrawn, but when you broke the shell, he could be funny. Too bad he and I weren’t inspired by the same things. He was looking for the one he would end his days with, and I was just looking for the one who could warm my sheets for a few hours.

“All right, we’ll go for a drink, you and me.”

“Great! When?”

“Whenever you want, but on one condition.”

“What?”

“We spend the evening like two friends who want to chat and have a good time. No way are you playing matchmaker.”

“Agreed, but even if I promise not to interfere, I decline all responsibility if a tall blond jumps around your neck!”

So we fixed our outing for two days later. I am already looking forward to it.