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. |
**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.
Pairings: Orli/OFC Het Fic
This story is rated NC-17 for heavy use of strong language as well as future scenes.
I'd be lying if I said I was completely unscathed
I might be proving you right with my silence or my retaliation
Would I be letting you win in my non reaction?
How would I explain?
How would I explain this to my children if I had them?
Because I can't not
Because I can't not
Because I can't afford to be misread one more time
Would I be whining if I said I needed a hug?
Would you feel slighted if I said your love's not enough?
How can I complain?
How can I complain when I’m the one who reaches for it?
Because I can't not
Because I can't not
~Alanis Morissette
Chapter 16
Sunday 3:00 PM (Morocco time)
Mmmmmmmmmm. What time is it? What day is it? Man. I was so tired. Who can blame me after that ordeal? I’m glad I told him about it, but now I don’t know what to do. Or how to act. The sympathy in his eyes was nearly more than I could take, and I’m not sure if I can handle seeing it every time I look into them now. What I’d really like to do is stay right here, in this bed, in his arms forever. No use wishing for that though. Shit. Phone. Who could be calling? Probably Fiona. I haven’t checked in all week and she’s likely going out of her mind with worry.
“Hello?” I say softly into the receiver, trying not to wake Orlando.
“This is the front desk. There is someone here who is asking for Mr. Bloom. Is he available?” the woman on the other end asks politely.
“Yes, just one moment please,” I tell her and reach over to shake Orli awake. Covering the receiver with one hand I grasp his shoulder with the other and say “Orlando? Wake up Bloom. Phone’s for you.”
His eyes flutter open then fall shut again. He then peeks at me through one squinted eye and says “Phone? For me?”
"Oui," I say, smiling at him and handing him the receiver.
Grinning at me he whispers, “Merci.”
“Hello? Yes, this is he. What? Here? Yes, tell her I’ll be down in a moment. Yes, thank you,” he tells the person on the other end of the line.
Reaching across my body, he hangs the telephone up and sighs deeply. Rolling back onto his back he covers his face with both hands and I can tell that he is not happy at learning that someone is here to see him.
“What was that all about, Bloom?” I ask, trying to sound light-hearted despite the sudden pang of fear that has gripped me. Did he say to tell her he’d be down in a moment? Her who?
“Fuck. I think I’ve really fucked up, baby,” he says as he throws the covers back and climbs out of my bed. The sudden feeling of loss I get from his departure speaks volumes for my state of mind.
“What else is new? What’ve you done now?” I ask, once again trying to lighten the mood.
“Please don’t get angry, luv, but the other night when we came back from the beach I made a phone call back to the States…” he says, his voice trailing off as he looks over at me.
“Yeah?” I say, the feeling of dread growing within my chest with each passing moment.
Turning his back to me, he walks over to the set of French doors on the left side of my fireplace and looks out over the balcony.
After a long pause he finally speaks, “I called Liz, baby. I was hurt and a bit drunk and feeling terribly sorry for myself. I don’t know why I did it, other than the fact that I wanted to reassure myself that I could still attract someone. She was asleep when I called and I haven’t talked to her since. I assumed that she’d forgotten my call, or decided to ignore my invitation.”
I sit there in stunned silence for a moment, and then I ask the obvious question “Your invitation? What invitation, Orlando?”
Even I can’t believe how flat my voice sounds. He turns to look at me again, at least having the decency to face me with his confession.
“I invited her to come over here, baby. I can’t give you a reason, other than stupid male pride. God I’m such a fucking asshole. Now she’s downstairs and all I want to do is stay here with you,” he says, his voice sounding so pathetic that I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. What I feel the most is sick to my stomach.
“You’d better get down there, Bloom. Wouldn’t want you to keep her waiting after she’s flown all the way here from LA,” I say as calmly as I can.
“I’m so sorry, baby. Will you wait here? I don’t want to cause a scene. That’s all I need. The media making a huge deal out of nothing. I’ll take her to lunch or something and tell her that it was all a mistake,” he says and when I nod yes, he leaves for his own room to get dressed. In less than five minutes I hear the front door open and close announcing his departure.
I sit there for a few minutes staring at my open doorway, feeling like I’ve just been run over by a freight train. The tears I’d been holding back suddenly spill out and my body is wracked with sobs that shake me violently. Wrapping my arms around my body, I fall back onto the pillow and have a good old-fashioned cry. Why did he have to do it? Why her?
Elizabeth Hart. Liz Hart. One of the most beautiful young ingénues that Hollywood has produced in many years. All of five feet tall, Liz is blonde with piercing blue eyes and a figure that makes any man that looks at her stop dead in his tracks. Orlando fell for the girl hook, line and sinker the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. They were a hot item in the tabloids for the full two years that they dated, despite the fact that both of them were extremely close-mouthed about their personal lives. Their break-up a few months ago had caused many a young girls hearts to leap with joy. Liz is not too popular among Orlando’s fans. For some reason, the fact that he called her hurts more than if he’d just gone out and picked up a stranger. The two of them have a history. They have chemistry and worst of all…I have always hated the woman.
She’s a spoiled little rich girl from a prominent family in Connecticut. She’s whiny and demanding and always had Orlando on such a short leash. The boy had been so totally smitten with her that he’d have walked off a thirty-story building if Liz had even hinted that that was what she wanted of him.
Unable to compose myself, I lay there and wait for him to return from his ‘date’ with Liz. As bad as it sounds, I hope he does tell her to piss off. I can’t stand the thought of them getting back together. Suddenly I can’t stand the thought of him with anyone other than me. How weird is that?
Authors note: I am really sorry that this has been so long in the making, and doubly sorry that it is so short. This is a transitional chapter, and the real action will be in Orli’s POV chapter (the next one). I have had a horrible bout of writer’s block, so let’s hope that that’s over with now. Thanks for all of your patience and I will update as soon as I’ve written chapter 17.
**
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