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Always Be Here	By : dawnenab Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 4615 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Orlando Bloom. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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**Disclaimer: I do not know Orlando Bloom. I have no knowledge of him personally and this is simply a work of fiction.... Strictly my imagination here folks. If you do not see him this way, then do not continue to read. I make no profit from this, and it is written for my own enjoyment, and hopefully that of others.

Your words to me just a whisper
Your face is so unclear
I
try to pay attention
Your words just disappear

'Cause it’s always raining in my head
Forget all the things I
should have said

So I speak to you in riddles because
My words get in my way.
I smoke the
whole thing to my head and feel it
wash away 'cause I can't
take anymore
of this, I want to come apart.
or dig myself a little hole
inside
your precious heart...
~Staind

Chapter One
Monday-4:15 A.M.
He's here again. This is the third time this week. He says he comes here because he loves me. Says I'm good for his soul, which is comical to me since I sold my soul long ago. Did you see him there on the sofa? He's got that naturally unkempt look that is so chic, yet he does absolutely nothing to achieve it. Black silk pajama bottoms and a ribbed white undershirt. I'm so glad I made him bring something over to sleep in, for just these situations. God! Why does he do this? Doesn't he know what kind of an effect he has on me? Of course he does, else he wouldn't be here. I think that's part of what keeps him coming back. That unspoken desire that burns in my eyes. I'll never act on it, and I think that's what matters to him. It has to be hard to be a piece of meat in this Hollywood machine.
Do you hear that? Snoring. Yes the great Orlando Bloom snores, like a bloody chainsaw folks. It's probably just another ploy of his to ensure that I don't get any real sleep while he's here. Did you notice the way the undershirt had ridden up just enough to show his tattoo? Maybe I'll kiss it. A tiny kiss wouldn't hurt; he probably wouldn't even wake up.
No! Wait! What am I doing?! Coffee. Need to make coffee. Orli will be waking up soon and he loves his coffee to be ready when he wakes. I wish I had a coffeemaker with a timer, but I don't drink the horrid stuff. Orli's the only reason I even have any in my apartment, but it is the good stuff or so he tells me anyway.
He was drunk again when he showed up. This is a new trend. I didn't want to sound like a mother, so I just pushed the door open enough to let him inside and helped him over to the sofa. Thank God he has the good sense to call a taxi when he gets like that.
"Heya baby," he said with a cheeky grin when I opened the door, once again rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I wanted to punch him.
"Hi yourself," I said, not bothering to mask the annoyance that was plain in my voice.
"What's wrong baby? Don't you love me anymore?" he asked. He was squinting his eyes, probably in a vain attempt to focus.
What was I supposed to say to that? Of course I love you, you idiot. That's why this is tearing the heart right out of me... Not exactly the brand of conversation one is looking for past three AM following a bender. There. Coffee will be ready in a minute. That'll most likely wake him. I think I need a shower.
4:45 A.M.
He's awake now. I can hear him in the kitchen. The shower helped, but I'm seriously thinking about checking myself into rehab just to get some sleep. Look at him. How can anyone look that good at five A.M. after being totally trashed the previous night? He hasn't even brushed his teeth yet and he's still a sight to behold. His rich chestnut hair is a mass of unruly curls. It’s the kind of "bed head" people pay hundreds of dollars to get.
He still has that sleepy, unfocused look which only makes him sexier. Didn’t think that was possible, but there it is. The tail of his undershirt ends a little above the waistband of his pajama pants, which bares a lovely strip of golden skin to me. The black pants ride low on his slim hips and I can see the little trail of dark hair that leads down to… Well, you know where it leads.
"Morning you," I say, moving to the fridge and grabbing a can of Dr. Pepper.
"God baby, how can you drink that at five in the morning?" he says as I pop open the top.
"You look like shit," I say in a weak attempt to change the subject. The coffee vs. Dr. Pepper debate has long since been talked to death and I don't want to rehash it at the moment.
"I can always count on you for the honest appraisal, can't I?" he quips, running his slender fingers back through his hair in an effort to bring some semblance of order to it. He doesn't realize that there's no need for it.
"Why don't you shower, Orli? I can order in some breakfast if you like. Bagels ok with you?" I ask casually.
Walking over, he stops right in front of me, settling his hands on my hips. He leans down and plants a kiss on the end of my nose.
"I'd like it better if you cooked for me," he says, a mischievous grin spreading over his face.
"Go brush your teeth Bloom," I mumble, looking away before I humiliate myself by starting to believe he actually cares for me.
"Yes ma'am!" he replies, mocking me with a Benny Hill-style salute and with that he is off to the bathroom. I watch as he leaves the room, wincing as he pulls his shirt off over his head before he is out of my sight. The boy is gonna give me a nervous breakdown before this is done.
5:30 A.M.
I've set the breakfast bar with the only two real plates I own. He'll have to deal with the plastic cutlery that the guy from Einstein's was good enough to include. Hell, I don't cook. Why do I need silverware?
"Are you gonna stay in that bathroom all day Orli? If I didn't know better, I'd think you've started to believe all the hype about yourself..." my voice trails off as I look up to see him leaning against the doorframe that leads from the hall with a towel draped casually around his hips.
His hair is still wet and there are drops of water on his shoulders where the moisture has dripped. His skin is a beautiful olive color, and I can see the band of whiter flesh just below his waist where the edge of the towel rests. He's using a Q-tip to clean his ears and grinning at me like the proverbial cat-who-ate-the-canary.
"Just want to be sure I pass inspection this time, luv," he replies, his lilting English accent lending more charm to an already charming voice. To prove his point, he walks over and blows in my face.
"Better?" he asks, cheeky grin and all as he throws the swab into the wastebasket near the door.
I would punch him, but that would be a crime against nature. Besides, half the female population of the planet would hunt me down and kill me if I so much as smudged that perfect face.
"It's a start," I reply, sounding as though I'm losing patience with him, though it's hard to keep the smile from my voice. He's adorable after all. He walks over to the bar and picks up a bagel.
"Any spreads to go with these, baby?" he asks, as if I would forget his tomato-basil topping.
"In the fridge," I say, nodding toward the white side-by-side model in the kitchen.
"So, you planning to wear that home?" I ask, indicating the towel. "Not that I mind, you understand, but if you are, would you mind waiting here while I run out to Macy's and pick up a few more? If you're seen in it, there won't be a single one left in the free world by lunchtime," I say, watching with my own grin as he stalks over to me and stares down at me trying to look ominous.
Good try buddy, but in that towel? Ominous is not at the top of my list of adjectives. As the grin on my face only gets wider, he realizes that the whole intimidation tactic isn't working so he moves on to the injured puppy routine.
"You're so mean to me sometimes, baby. I wonder if I should stop coming here. Maybe I'm starting to outlive my welcome."
God actors are so transparent sometimes. Even really talented ones.
6:00 A.M.
I need to get ready for work, so I excuse myself and walk down the hall to my bedroom. I'm in the process of pulling on a satin thong when I realize I'm not alone.
"You're really beautiful, baby," he says, walking over and plopping down on my as-yet unmade bed.
"I'm gonna put a bell around your neck Bloom," I say, trying to maintain some semblance of control. His laughter has the subtle undertones of his husky voice and I feel ripples of goose bumps begin to cover the surface of my skin.
"Cold?" he asks. I can easily picture the wicked gleam in his eye. I keep my back to him as I walk over to the dresser and extract my bra de jour.
I'm putting it on when he ventures "Why have I not asked you out yet? Better yet, why haven't you asked me, luv?"
My sigh is clearly audible and I turn to look at him and say, "You know I don't date actors Orli."
"It always amazes me that you can say that word and make it sound like 'lepers'. Why is it that you won't date an actor? Are we somehow less than human to you?" he whines.
I notice his dramatic tone so I reply, probably more harshly than necessary "There. That's why. You can't stop acting long enough to have a real conversation. I won't go through it Orli. I can't. I thought our friendship was something you found as special as I do. If I was wrong, then why is it my doorstep you end up on at ungodly hours time after time?"
"You live in a condo, baby. You have no doorstep." This is typical Orli. When the topic gets too heavy, fall back on your charm. His smile is broad, but his eyes aren't twinkling like they do when he's really happy.
Probably hurt his feelings, but hell, he's wreaking havoc on my nerves. Have to get him out of here soon or I'm gonna lose it. Oh shit! The doorbell. Where's my robe?
"I'll get it baby. It's for me anyway," he says as he walks out of the room. For him? What the hell? I go to see precisely who or what is at my door for him.
I walk down the hall to see Orli standing at the door, still wearing only my towel by the way, and talking to a young guy. Maybe 21 or 22. The guy looks over and sees me and I note the rather lascivious grin on his face as he looks from me to Orli. Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm standing here in my bra and thong. Great! Now it's gonna be all over the media that Orli is shacked up with a blonde in a condo in West Hollywood. Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful.
Orli looks over his shoulder and sees me in the hall. He takes in my state of undress with typical male interest, then he sees the mortification that must be written on my face like a neon sign. He takes the garment bag and shaving kit that the guy's obviously delivered to him and with a curt remark he gently shoves the guy out the door. He sticks his head out into the hall, probably telling the guy to keep quiet then he comes back in and shuts the door.
"It's alright baby. Damien won't say anything to anyone. He knows all about discretion," he tells me, walking over and stopping in front of me again, tilting my chin up with his free hand. "You ok?" he asks, and the genuine concern I see in his eyes is too much.
I close my eyes and say "You gonna get dressed or have you decided to move in Bloom?"
"Is that an invitation baby?" he queries and softly chuckles when my eyes fly open wide with shock. "Didn't think so," he says, walking off down the hall to my bathroom.
The mental image of him taking off that towel is more than I can take and I stalk back to my bedroom to get dressed for work. I think I'll call in a prescription for some Valium today. Couldn't hurt, right?
6:45 A.M.
I finally got my shit back together enough to pick clothes that match. Shoes too. How'm I doing? Not bad for someone that's hanging onto sanity with a fingernail, huh? Ok. Keys. What the hell did I do with the damned things yesterday? There they are.
"Orli? You ready to go? I can't be late to work again," I say, tapping my foot impatiently. "Orli?" No answer. He's not in the kitchen; I can see that from here. I go and knock on the bathroom door. No answer there either. Ok. I know he isn't in my bedroom 'cause I just came from there.
I walk back to the living room, pissed that he'd left without so much as a 'piss off' when I see the note. It's lying on the bar beside the plate that holds the remnants of his half-eaten bagel. It says:
Baby,
Sorry I left without saying goodbye, but Fi rang up while I was changing and I have to get to the airport right away. There's some additional location stuff needed in Morocco and they need me there like yesterday. Thanks again for being here when I need you. I'll miss your face.
Orli
Ok. At least there's a good explanation. Damn. Morocco. He's half way around the world more often than not. Oh well. At least I'll get some real sleep tonight. Thank God. Fi is his agent. She's also my boss. Fiona Sullivan, Agent to the Stars. Orli just calls her 'Fi' though. He has a habit of making up names for the people in his life. I've been 'baby' to him since the day we first met. Fiona is how I had the fortune--haven't decided if it's good or bad--to meet Orli. He's been a cyclone blowing through my life ever since. Damn. Morocco. Guess I better get to work now.
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Always Be Here