Chapter 2: The Art of Pursuit, the Pain of Rejection
I thought about it. There wasn’t much reason. I remember reading somewhere:
“Love always arrives suddenly. Only people who’ve never loved think love is a slow process. Love is a talent.”
The moment I saw Julian, my talent for loving someone woke up.
I started pursuing Julian.
I gave him opportunities, showed up at every event he attended, followed all his appearances. I didn’t hide my feelings for him at all.
At first, he was surprised, then cold, rejecting me again and again. He said:
“Ms. Monroe, I don’t have the time or energy to play games with you. Don’t waste your time on me.”
I just smiled, tilting my head at him. “Who says I’m playing games? I’m very serious, Julian.”
To show my sincerity, I chased Julian for over a year, but he stayed unmoved.
I called my dad. I asked, “Dad, I really, really like someone and want to be with him, but he doesn’t like me. But I really want to have him. What should I do?”
He was somewhere with some woman. When he heard my dejected voice, he didn’t care. He taught me, “Then give him terms so good he can’t refuse.”
“But I only want his true heart.”
My dad laughed, like he’d heard something hilarious. He laughed at me like I was a little kid, then gently advised:
“Sweetheart, feelings change, only interests last forever. Even if he loves you, one day he won’t. But as long as you can give him what he wants, so much that he can’t refuse, he’ll never leave you.”
So I laughed.
But the Queen Bee crown meant nothing to Julian. At first, I tried giving him opportunities, scripts, endorsements—he refused them all, proud and unwavering.
Some people said he didn’t know what was good for him. But I knew, the more he was like that, the more I liked him.
Until he told me he had a girlfriend.
I had someone check who his girlfriend was.
Soon, I got the name—Sierra Lane.
Yeah. Sierra Lane.
I searched online. She and Julian had acted together in a fantasy series, and it seemed their feelings grew from that show.
I asked the director for some behind-the-scenes footage and watched all their moments together, start to finish.
Then, finally, I realized.
I was heartbroken.
In the footage, Julian was gentle, smiling, kind. During scenes, he looked at her with focus, shaded her from the sun with a script, gazed at her with warm eyes…
I watched it over and over, then let it go.
I’m someone who always acts on my heart. The man was single, the woman was single. I liked Julian, so I pursued him. The falling flower had intent, but the flowing water was heartless. I wanted him; he didn’t want me. Simple as that.
My pursuit of him was always based on him being unattached.
Now he had a girlfriend. To keep going after him would be crossing a line.
But just because I could let go rationally didn’t mean I wasn’t a little sad.
I couldn’t stay in the States, because no matter how much I told myself to move on, deep down, there was still a crazy, possessive streak in my blood.
It screamed at me, making me want to destroy Sierra Lane, to threaten and tempt Julian, to use every means to get him.
So I went abroad.
I traveled for two months until I got a call from Julian’s agent.
He was very polite, very careful, telling me Julian had been blackballed—blacklisted in the industry—and asking if I could help. At the end, he added that Julian didn’t know he was calling me and asked me to keep it quiet until things were resolved.
He gave a bitter laugh: “You know how Julian is.”
After all, I had liked him. I was bored anyway, so I looked into it.
Julian and Sierra Lane had taken a script together as the secondary leads—the second-lead couple. Some spoiled investor wanted to hook up with Sierra. She refused, so he played dirty, and Julian beat him up.
A classic knight in shining armor.
When I called that rich kid, he was playing poker. When he heard what I wanted, he started complaining:
“Who? That Julian Reeves? You want to use him?
Monroe, let me tell you, he’s a total psycho. I think he’s got anger issues. He beat me up without even asking, saying I tried to mess with his girlfriend.
Look, I always like things to be mutual. His girlfriend—okay, she’s pretty, but not my type. She was the one coming on to me.
I got beat up for no reason, couldn’t clear my name if I swore on a stack of Bibles. If I don’t blackball him, who should I blackball?