Reunion with My Billionaire Ex

Romance of the romanticist III

Romance of the romanticist III

From the warm tones of his cologne to those of his voice and well-chosen words - he was so easy to be mesmerized by. So easy to feel leisurely comfortable with.

Maurice's POV,

“Action thriller or romantic comedy?” he asked, trailing all the romantic comedies I've enjoyed before. Cry-baby was somehow classic for me.

“I don’t know, whichever you like.” I still said. “I haven’t seen any of their trailers. So, I can't decide. Which one do you think is better?” I spoke in a clear breath. “I'll have the chance to let you choose.”

“What exactly do you do in your life for entertainment, if it is not your time in the office? And let’s not include news telecasts in it. I know you love them.” huh! How would he know how busy I am?

“News is important. Other than that, I work, of course. And…. And…. I read sometimes too.” I do nothing other than work, food, and sleep. Who thought a girl who had nothing but fashion to discuss all day could have such a morphosis? Nothing interests me much. My life has turned out to be more robot-like than the life of a twenty-five-year-old single woman.

All the dates that I have just work dates or client meet-ups. Or let’s just say tinder dates that turn out to be just horrible.

“Just choose any.” He persisted.

So won't I go for the one with the least risk of dissatisfaction? “Romantic comedy is a no-brainer.” I've had some good ones.

“I never took you for a romanticist.” I'm not. More like a realist, if anything.

“I'm not,” I replied. “I just don’t like violence. If it’s avoidable, and I surely don’t want the blood to splatter all over my birthday,” I quickly asserted. It makes me want to enact the scenes, I sink in the emotions of cinematic emotions and actions. My mind won't concentrate on art. Rather, it just drifts back to the time when I am the protagonist, I would walk in his shoes. And it just gets a bit too exhausting. “Movies don’t interest me anymore.” I lied. “I am just doing it for you.”

“I'm honored for your time. Then, romance it is…” he exclaimed just about the time we stepped closest to the counter. “Didn’t you say you were born and raised in New York?” he remembered as we didn’t halt our slow walk? The ticket guy just stared at him. Yeah! He is surely a s****l magnet.

“Hmm. Why?” I have to ask. But my gaze wouldn’t stop at just one of them.

“New York and violence go hand in hand.” Yeah, everyone knows that. “How can you hate violence when New York is your hometown? It is everywhere you see, even kids are violent these days,” he says. Not quite false, it’s true, but I was protected back then from violence. At least the physical impact of it I haven’t had to witness.

“I know, I was just lucky enough to not witness it that much in childhood. Now, not so much.” I added. “Have you lived in New York too? I don’t think you like it much though.”

“Yeah, for quite a while I was there, but never liked a single day. From middle school till I graduated high school. The school was hellish.” That is new.

“That’s most of your teenage years. Wow! I never knew.” I bet he was a fuckboy. An outcast, too hard to approach, beautifully intimidating.

“Yeah! That is—”

“Then we must have at least once passed by one another. That’s the beauty of New York.”

“I hated New York, no one cares about no one there. I couldn’t see my dad. It was hard for me to make friends, no acquaintances, nothing that I had in LA. I was glad to be back in LA for college. Mom took random guys home every night and I hated the traffic there. I had no one to talk to and even mom didn’t look after me.” It’s the first time he has said the word mom in front of me. “It’s all dad for me.”

“Hey! That’s too personal,” I exclaimed. “I already noticed how you don’t talk about your mum. You shouldn’t be telling anyone this. I loved my life there.”

“I want to tell you, so you can pity me.” he came nearer just so he could whisper it slowly to my ear, turning jiggles of my body. “It just brings people closer.” He looks into my eyes. “I want to get closer.” His vicious smile is all I can see even in this dimming air.

“That’s the weirdest thing I’ve heard.” I chuckled. I would rather not be close than be pitiful. “Never expect you would need such tactics.”

“I know normal things won't work for you. We can get closer if you pity me. To break the ice. I'm not as perfect as I look.”

“I'm learning that.” There wasn’t any ice between us. It’s just plain brick walls of this social difference. I wouldn’t want history repeating itself. I ran from it once. When everything was good for me, I would never believe that there was anything like a social difference. It was only when I fell from grace that I realized what made me different from all my friends. What were the things that they could afford with a snap of fingers and I had to work for years? That was the true difference, and even if at the bottom, I would never make anyone think any less of me.

“I don’t think a movie is a good idea,” I uttered just as we were about to get in. “I don’t feel like it. I'm exhausted.”

“You don’t feel well.” he examined my head. “Should I take you to the doctor’s?”