The boy stepped into the restaurant, his stomach twisting.
Scanning the place, he saw a flock of neatly spread tables at the far end of the corner, unnerved at how everything was pristinely white and spotlessly silver. Waiters wafted through the guests, refilling tea cups, receiving orders, and presenting dishes. Coloring the quiet murmurs was a soft, romantic violin that created the perfect atmosphere for perfect coupling.
Max wanted to barf.
Third table down, in front of the window....
The boy grudgingly searched, pinpointing a table-for-two propped near the wall. Facing away from him sat a girl, her hair pulled up in a bundle of dark strands.
Here goes nothing.
Pulling himself tall, he forced a smile on his face that would make any mother (specifically his) proud. Then, with the grace required for a son of a billionaire, he strode across the room to meet his fate.
"Good afternoon. Maximus Claden, at your..."
He stopped, flabbergasted.
A plain green sweater hung from her shoulders, the words I-DON'T-CARE stitched onto the front in black letters. Dark leggings poked out from underneath the green, leading to a petite set of feet that rested bare on the marble floor. On top of her head, wisps of unkempt curls sprung out of a sloppy bun, framing a set of wide, silver eyes and shocked features.
The girl was the epitome of sloppiness and nonchalance. Max almost marveled at her nerve to attend a Five Star restaurant in clothes equivalent to pajamas. Heck, for all he knew, they could be her pajamas!
And her face - something was wrong with it. Oh, she had the normal, pretty features - plump lips, high cheekbones, small nose. But Max could not shake off the feeling that something was off, different, alien...
She isn't wearing makeup.
The realization struck him with utter bewilderment.
All females wore makeup - at least, the ones he knew. Even his mother thought it ridiculous to greet the morning without, as she called it, "putting her face on."
Yet this girl had nothing. Not the smallest touch of powder, not the slightest sheen of lipstick.
He stared in shock.
"Can I help you with something?"
The boy jumped, his heart slamming to a stop as he realized she was talking to him. The silver eyes, once surprised, had narrowed in offense.
Oh great.
Max immediately latched to his default facade as his impulses jolted for him to leave.
"I was utterly captivated with your beauty, milady," he declared with a wide joyous grin, his legs itching to walk away. "Absolutely stunned. Tell me, where in the world did you get such beautiful..."
He searched for a compliment. It was hard.
"Eyes," he concluded, giving an extra dose of 'smile' to cover the hesitation.
All his will had been praying for the words to work. Yet, from the moment - no - at the moment he broke into his signature smile, the girl seemed to recoil, almost as if repulsed by his very expression. Currently, her shock transformed into a glare that sliced through every layer of his five-piece suit.
For a moment, the silence held - the long, awkward, heart-beating-in-chest kind. Then she turned her head, her eyes fixing rigidly on the back wall.
YOU ARE READING
Romance Me
Romance"I'm so sorry, Lynn." His husky voice seemed to wrap around her, pulling stronger than any physical force. "I am. For eighteen years, I've been doing everything wrong. So please..." His other hand came up, its warmth encompassing Lynn's cheek as tho...
