Romantic Occurrence

I happen to believe that romance is scarce. That said, when a romantic occurrence takes place in a girl's day-to-day life in Paris, she simply must report it:

Yesterday I was eating an early lunch with Max at his place when I realized I had to get going or I would miss my bus and be late for class. We said goodbye - he still in his jeans and t-shirt, I in my 5 layers, braced for the snowy weather outside. I walked briskly to the bus, hustling across the street when I saw it coming around the corner, and got in a long line of Parisian bus-riders.

I had just reached the door, and scanned my bus pass, when I heard my phone ringing. Looking down, I saw that it was Max who had called me, but the call had just ended and I was just stepping on the bus. I decided to call him back later to see what I had left behind, if anything. People were moving pretty slowly down the aisle so I was still standing right at the door, with one old lady behind me who was still waiting to step on board. I opened my mouth to say the obligatory: "Bonjour!" to the busdriver when, out of nowhere, a hand tapped me on the back, insistently.

I turned around, surprised, to find an out of breath MAX standing there, beckoning me off the bus and out of line. My first thought was: "What did I leave behind? And why is it so important that he came to give it to me?" But Max's hands were empty, except for my own, which he grabbed immediately upon my rejoining him. "I want to walk you to the metro." He explained.
"You put on a coat, scarf and shoes and ran all this way after me just so we could walk five blocks together?" I demanded.
"Yes. I realized right after you left that I wanted to see you a little longer." He replied, tugging me across the street.
"You know," I teased, mid-street, mid-kiss, "that is quite romantic!"
Ten minutes later, we said goodbye at the metro, and Max turned around to walk back home.