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Better Days	By : fitzsns Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 2553 -:- 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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CHAPTER FOUR: ORLANDO
New Brunswick, New Jersey
Thursday, April 3, 2003
Every second I spent on that God-forsaken circle of death called the New Jersey Turnpike, I kept asking myself how I got myself into this situation. I’m not this guy. I do not get infatuated with women. They get infatuated with me. That is the dynamic we agreed on, girls. I’m being an asshole again. That isn’t me, either. I have to stop being a fucking lunatic and face the facts. She got me. Fair and square. She’s great… in and out of bed. In the span of those few days in Texas, she managed to make me feel things I haven’t felt in while… things I don’t really want to feel at this point in my life. Doesn’t matter though, I guess, at this point. I’ve got to play this out before I really do turn in to the shithead I’ve been acting like.
Dennis is eyeing me again from the rearview mirror. It’s like he can read my mind. I steel my face in hopes that my thoughts won’t be so fucking perceptible but I’m pretty sure he’ll be able to tell anyway. This guy knows things. I have a psychic chauffer. Perfect.
“She seems real nice, Mr. Bloom,” he says and I can hear the amusement in his voice. “I wouldn’t worry. She sounded pretty excited to me.”
Excited, huh? Well that sounds pretty g- wait. “Excited? What do you mean? What’d she say? Did she say something about me?” And he’s laughing. He’s laughing at me. He turns around in his seat. Apparently he’s had enough of tossing me amused glances through the mirror. He wants to look me in the eye and let me know he thinks I’m insane.
“Orlando- may I call you Orlando?”
“By all means,” I sigh, noticing that his voice seems to have dropped into a very natural New York accent he’d apparently been covering before. Professional reasons, I assume.
“I’ve been married exactly one year next Tuesday. There is one, very valuable piece of information about women that I learned from my wife that I’m going to pass on to you.” His eyes narrow on me a bit like he’s about to say something really profound. “Pay attention.” Well, it’s simple; I’ll give him that. “Your lady didn’t say anything, I could just tell in her voice. Women have certain tells. It’s like poker. Her voice is just one. The most important is the eyes. So when she gets out here, lighten up a little, stop focusing on yourself and your own shit and you’ll be able to pick up on these things, too.”
I study the man sitting in front of me. He’s a good-looking guy, not that much older than me but I’ll be damned if he’s not fucking Yoda. Of course. It’s so simple, it’s brilliant. Pay attention. Stop focusing on my own shit and focus on her. Hey, if I do that I just may be able to keep up this charade of the cool, dashing Englishman.
Damn, this really matters to me. She really matters. This thought hits me like a ton of bricks. That’s why I’ve been so crazy. It’s not the sex… well not just the sex. I actually care what she thinks about me. Weird.
From behind my tinted windows, I see her emerge from the front door of her house. Oh good God. She’s ten times more beautiful than I remember. And she’s trying to make me ache, I know it. The dress is the fucking proof. Dennis makes a move a get out, presumably to open the door for her and I tell him to stay put and get out myself. I think I hear him mutter a “good boy” but I’m not entirely sure.
Okay, this dress… it is quite literally heart stopping. It is short… and I mean short. It’s purple, too, but that’s beside the point. It clings and flows at the same time and I’m going to stop trying to figure out how that’s possible right now… I don’t care. I’m just going to say, ‘Thank you God’ and move on. Her hair is up and I find myself having a perfect memory of just what her long, graceful neck tastes like- like salt and citrus and all that’s missing is the tequila but it doesn’t matter because the little noises she makes when you lick up the column of her throat are more intoxicating than liquor can ever be. She smiles at me like she knows what she’s doing to me.
“Hi,” she says, her eyes meeting mine only briefly before glancing away. Damn, Dennis was right. She is excited. I may have only spent a few days with this girl but I know she isn’t shy. That little look had nothing to do with timidity… she’s nervous. It’s… well, it’s cute. How can she stand there looking so damn sexy and be completely adorable at the same time. I’m in trouble.
“Hi.” My eyes rove discretely over her body as her eyes drift toward the car. I’m staring now and I don’t even realize she looking back at me until I hear her giggle. “Sorry,” I grin, not really sorry at all. A dress like that is meant to be looked at. I lean in and give her a relatively chaste kiss that she returns and punctuates with an irresistible, and if I’m not mistaken, kinda wicked, smile. I throw it back at her and open the car door for her. With a soft thank you she gets in and I walk around the front of the car, my lips practically tingling from the brief contact with her own. Dennis is smirking at me.
Twenty minutes later, we’re back on the Jersey Turnpike and we haven’t said I word past our greetings. Yes, I’ve been ogling her like a thirteen year old would his first pin-up, but I’m only human. I know she’s noticed even though she hasn’t commented. Her legs are crossed toward me, her hands playing with the strap of her purse and all I want to do is reach over and pull her against me. Not sure if I’ll be able to restrain myself much longer, I hit a button above my head, effectively raising a tinted partition to guard what I think I may have to do any minute against Dennis’ smirking gaze.
“Got something on your mind, Bloom?” she says turning her chin and giving me the hottest tease of a look I’ve ever seen.
“Don’t worry, I’m perfectly capable of controlling myself,” I lie. She knows I’m lying. I know she knows because she’s laughing. I’ve haven’t had so many God damned people laughing at me in a while… at least not to my face. Okay, enough of this laughing bullshit. “Okay maybe not,” I mutter, my voice much huskier than I intended it to be… which is saying a lot.
A split second later, I’ve got her exactly where I want her: pulled up against me, her right leg draped over my lap, causing that dress to ride delightfully up to her hip. She’s not laughing anymore, in fact she looks completely serious. Our faces are so close now, I can feel her breath on my lips. Our eyes are locked. There’s so much more there than I would have ever thought. That sadness is still there… always there, it seems. It’s almost unbearable to look at. So I don’t. I lean in, kissing her so softly, we’re barely touching. But I feel it… oh God do I feel it.
I need more and I don’t deny myself, sealing my lips over hers. My whole body remembers this feeling. My heart is going a mile a minute now, my hand sliding from her ankle, up to her thigh, scatting upward to pull her jacket off her shoulders. My hand runs back down to her thigh as she shrugs the jacket off, and I squeeze just slightly, using my grip to pull her onto my lap.
Faye leans back, breaking the kiss and I feel the loss in my bones. She looks at me, her lips swollen and her breathing labored. The corners of her lips turn upward just a little in that half-smile I remember so well. “I thought we were supposed to be catching up, Bloom.”
She’s teasing me, now… It’s practically nothing but the tone of her voice combined with the look in her iridescent eyes makes me completely fucking insane- another thing I remember. “What do you call this?” I almost growl, somewhat upset that I can’t make my voice do what hers does. All I can do is bare my neediness. I run a hand up her stomach, up between the two perfect breasts I can almost taste, to her throat. My thumb strokes the pulse point there as I wait for her answer, not really caring if I get one. I just need a reaction; something to tell me she’s feeling even half of what I am.
“I knew it!” she laughs, throwing her head back. The vibration her body makes as she laughs is enough to do me in. I feel it everywhere, but I’m not too pleased she’s laughing. “I knew this was a classic bootie call,” she says after finally calming herself. “Jeeze, Bloom, you could’ve just come up to my apartment and saved me a lot of transit.”
Why do I hate the way she’s talking about this? It was a bootie call. That’s exactly what I intended. Why am I taking her back to New York? We could have done this anywhere. I knew this girl was under my skin, but I didn’t think it was this bad. Have I said that I’m in trouble, cus God damn, I am in trouble. She’s looking at me weird. I know my face has the look of horror on it and it’s probably freaking her out. My hands go to her waist and gently move her back to the seat next to me.
Now it’s her turn to look horrified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… uh, offend you,” she says and I think my fucking heart breaks at the sound of it. That can’t be right though. My heart isn’t involved. It’s not supposed to be. Shit.
Regardless, I can’t stand the uncertainty in her eyes- it highlights the sadness. So I don’t let her go far, keeping her right beside me. “You didn’t offend me. I just…” I have no idea how to explain my sudden shift in gears. I sure as hell can’t tell her the insanity that is my obsession with her. “I just want to take you out first. We didn’t really do much of that last time around.”
She lets me put my arm around her shoulders and draw her close. “Okay,” she says, but I don’t really get the feeling she’s satisfied with my answer. I can’t blame her. I was running hot and cold, but I really can’t explain it any better than I did. Not to her, at least. Shit, am I in trouble.
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- 6
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