Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

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
- 16
- 17
- 18
**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.

maybe I told you right from the start
you can have me
but you can't have my heart
It's easy enough to say but I couldn't care less
ya I mighta told you you were on my mind
guess I talked a pretty good line
but hey I can talk all day
but I just can't confess

that I’m a liar
I’m a victim of desire
I’m a moth into the fire
I’m over my head - forget what I said
tell ya I’m a liar…

~Bryan Adams

Sunday 3:00 PM (Morocco Time)

“Orlando? Wake up Bloom. Phone’s for you,” I hear a soft voice say. It takes a few seconds for me to remember where I am, and whose voice that is. Baby. A ripple of pure desire runs through me as I realize that I’m lying in her bed. Next to her. God I want to kiss her again. Wait. She said the phone was for me, right? Better get that.

“Phone?” I say, peeking through one eye. “For me?”

“Oui,” she says, smiling at me temptingly and handing me the receiver. What I want to do is drop the phone and tackle her. Instead I take it and smile back at her.

“Merci,” I whisper, and then turning my attention to the person on the other end of the line I say “Hello?”

“Mr. Bloom?” the friendly voice asks.

“Yes, this is he,” I reply.

“There is a young lady here to see you. She said to tell you that ‘ducks’ is here? She said you’d understand,” the amused voice on the other end of the line says.

“What? Here?” I say, the mortification obvious in my voice.

“Yes sir,” the desk clerk says. All amusement is now gone from the voice and I hear, “Shall I have security remove her from the hotel, Mr. Bloom?”

“What? No. Tell her I’ll be down in a moment,” I say with a sigh.

“I will give her the message, Mr. Bloom,” the clerk tells me.

“Yes, thank you,” I say and turning on my side, I reach across baby and hang the phone up. Breathing in, my senses are assailed by her scent and all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and stay right where we are forever.

Rolling onto my back, I cover my face with both hands. I’m trying to shut out reality even for a moment.

“What was that all about, Bloom?” baby asks, the tremor in her voice almost undetectable.

“Fuck. I think I’ve really fucked up, baby,” I tell her as I climb out of the bed.

“What else is new? What’ve you done now?” she asks sarcastically.

“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…” I tell her. Looking at her, I don’t know how I’m going to be able to bring myself to tell her. Hurting this woman is the last thing I ever wanted to do.

“Yeah?” she says, clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

With no other choice I finally tell her, knowing how much of an asshole she is going to think I am now. It’s positively horrid.

“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 finish in a rush. Guess maybe I thought that saying it fast would take the sting out of my words, but judging by the look on her face, I can see that was not the case.

After a moment she asks, “Your invitation? What invitation, Orlando?” her voice so flat that I barely recognize it. Might as well just tell her the whole sad tale. Let her see that I am only a man after all.

“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,” I tell her, really wanting to crawl under the rug and die.

“You’d better get down there, Bloom. Wouldn’t want you to keep haitiaiting after she’s flown all the way here from LA,” she tells me, the tears that are glistening in her eyes breaking my heart.

“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,” As the words leave my mouth, I cannot believe I actually said them. Here I am, hurting someone that I care about. About to go downstairs and hurt someone I used to love, and all I can think about is bad publicity?

BLIGHTER!

Fortunately baby agrees to stay here and I go change clothes as quickly as I can. I should have just let the desk clerk have Liz thrown out. No. I couldn’t do that. Now I just have to go and clean up this mess.

3:15 PM Morocco

Bloody hell! Why can nothing go right for more than five minutes? Did you see the hurt in her eyes when I told her that I’d called Liz? Nothing for the fact that I’d had a half bottle of scotch and was suffering from a bad case of rejection. Fuck! Now I have to go downstairs and deal with someone that I’d honestly hoped to avoid for…well…forever.

I have a real knack for putting myself in this type of situation. Brilliant, innit? What the hell did I tell Liz anyway? That whole night is a bit of a blur. Why in God’s name can’t I manage not to boff things up on a regular basis? Well, nothing for it except to go down there and face the music.

Then go upstairs and face that music as well, eh Bloom?

The ride down in the lift is so much shorter than I’d have liked it to be, and just as I’d feared, Liz is standing there waiting for me. As I step out of the car, she runs and jumps into my arms, wrapping her legs about my waist in a most ‘friendly’ way.

“Lando!” she cries as she leaps at me. Her smile and the exuberance of her greeting only making me feel worse.

“Hello, ducks,” I say, prying her legs loose. Setting her back on the ground, I push her gently away from me. “Settle down, luv. People are watching,” I tell her, trying not to sound too aloof.

“Since when do you care what people think?” she asks, that whiny quality coming through and nearly making me wince.

“I just don’t want to make a scene. Would you like to go and grab some food? There’s a smashing restaurant down the street,” I inquire, hoping to get us out of the hotel as quickly as possible. For some reason I’ve come to think of this as ‘our’ place. Mine and baby’s. Having Liz here is starting to feel too much like a betrayal.

“Do they have anything American? I really can’t take foreign food Lando,” she says, and I ask myself once again what I possibly saw in this shallow female.

Great sex, Bloom. Face it. It was really great sex.

“I’m quite sure we can find you something, ducks. Now let’s go before we get mobbed by photographers,” I tell her, taking her elbow and steering her toward the lobby doors.

Too late for dodging reporters.

The flashbulbs go off like fireworks and I put my hand up to block the bright glare from my tired eyes. Liz seizes the moment and grabs my hand, slipping an arm around my waist and going up on tiptoes to kiss my cheek. She smiles one of her brilliant smiles right into the lenses that are aimed at us and it’s all I can do not to pull free of her and run.

Instead I grip her hand more tightly and pull her past the cameras, out the doors and down the sidewalk. The reporters follow, barking the usual questions:

“Are you back together, Orlando?”

“Did you miss each other terribly, Liz?”

“Can we expect wedding bells soon, you two?”

Completely ignoring all of them, I hurry us down the sidewalk to the corner where the restaurant I told Liz about is. I’ve been here several times, and the hostess knows me. She leads us deeper into the restaurant and assures me that our privacy will be protected while we eat.

Liz is laughing at the whole experience and as she takes her seat, she smiles at me across the table radiantly. Now what? How do you tell someone who has just flown half way around the world to go away? That you weren’t serious when you called and woke them up at 3 AM to invite them to make that journey? I do always manage to make a mess of things, don’t I?

Picking up her menu, Liz looks at the list of lunch entrées and her smile fades.

“I thought you said they served American food here, Lando. I can’t even read this,” she says, pouting over at me.

“Order a salad, ducks. Salad is the same in any language, right?” I say, giving her what I hope is a warm smile.

“Ok. Maybe they won’t screw it up. You know these third-world countries, Lando,” she says haughtily. Looking around at the gorgeous restaurant, her face twists into a frown of distaste.

“This whole place is so filthy,” she says with disgust. “I couldn’t believe it when I got off the plane. I hate having to disembark onto the ground. It’s just so…uncivilized,” she says, looking at me for all the world as if she thinks I agree with her.

“Liz, there is something we need to talk about,” I begin, unable to put this off any longer. Just listening to her complain non-stop is about to drive me out of my mind. Not catching the tone in my voice she smiles at me very suggestively, looking at me through lowered lashes.

“I was hoping to do more than talk, Lando. I didn’t fly for nearly twelve hours for conversation. Besides, you don’t have to say anything. Really. You already told me that you missed me and I missed you too. There is no reason why I can’t stay here until you finish, then maybe we can go somewhere more… pleasant,” she replies with another note of distaste for the thought of having to stay here in Morocco for very long.

Yes. This is going as well as I could have hoped, innit? Damned scotch. Should be a law against it. Ok. Regroup and try again.

“No, ducks. You can’t stay here. And I am going on holiday when we wrap here. I’m going home to England for a bit,” I say as diplomatically as possible. Here eyes narrow and she looks at me with renewed interest.

“What do you mean I can’t stay here, Lando?” she asks suspiciously. “This little trip was your idea. Are you telling me that you want me to leave?”

As she finishes her question the waiter approaches to take our order. We both order salads and cokes and he takes the menus and leaves.

“Listen ducks, I know I called you. I know I’m the one who asked you to come here, but you said you’d call me back later. When you didn’t call, I assumed that you were just blowing me off, which was fine with me since I was drunk when I called you to begin with,” I say, watching her eyes grow wider with each word.

Resigning myself to the fact that there is no way this is going to go smoothly I tell her the rest.

“I’m not here alone, Liz. I had a fight with someone and to tell you the truth I was feeling very sorry for myself. Calling you was just my way of getting back at her. I know what a shitty thing that is to do and believe me I am sorrier than you can imagine.”

Sorry that I hurt baby anyway. The beautiful face that was just looking at me with such adoration is now turning dark red with anger.

“Please stay calm, Liz. I know I’m a huge wanker and you probably hate me, but please don’t make a scene,” I plead.

At that moment the waiter brings our drinks and thankfully Liz has the good grace to remain quiet while the waiter is at the table. Once the drinks are on the table and the waiter is safely out of earshot she speaks again, voice dripping with acid.

“You sonofabitch. You call me and tell me you miss me, that you want to see me and now you are going to tell me that it was just the booze talking? And that you are here with someone else?” she says quietly. Too quietly. I am reminded of a crouching wildcat, waiting to pounce.

Before I can react she reaches out and grabs her full glass of coke and hurls the contents into my face. The shock of the cold liquid hitting me and the stinging in my eyes is nothing compared to my humiliation as she jumps to her feet and screams at me at the top of her lungs:

“FUCK YOU ORLANDO BLOOM! I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL!”

The few patrons in the restaurant this afternoon are very obviously not looking in our direction. So obviously in fact, that they may as well be staring. I pick up my napkin and begin drying my face off. I reach out to try to catch her hand, but she jerks back from me as though I have the plague.

“Don’t touch me. Don’t you ever touch me again, you bastard. You will regret this. Mark my words,” she says and with that comment she turns on her heel and storms out of the restaurant, tears of fury pouring down her face.

“Pardon me Mr. Bloom, but I assume that you will want to cancel your order?” the waiter asks discreetly.

“What? Oh that. Yes please. Thank you,” I stammer, still stunned by the events of the last few minutes.

How the fuck am I going to get back to the hotel without being seen? I knew this would be bad, but I had hoped to settle it with a bit less drama. Maybe baby is right. Actors are a bunch of melodramatic idiots.

Better go and see how much damage I’ve done on that front, huh?

************
- 16
- 17
- 18
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Always Be Here