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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 FIVE: FAYE
New York City
Thursday, April 3, 2003
Story time, kiddies. So, okay, once upon a time, when I was in high school, I was dating this kid named Jeremy Dunn. I lost my virginity to Jeremy… on the pinball machine in his father’s rec room, no less. I know, I know. Anyway, I have a point I swear. So, me and Jeremy were just fucking like bunnies for about six months… after all we were in love and were going to be together for-ev-er. There were times when I just wasn’t into having sex at a particular moment and that was normal, cus I’m the girl, right?
Well one day, I was really in the mood… I wanted Jeremy and I wanted him bad. But Jeremy didn’t want to. It was the beginning of the end. At first I thought, well there has got to be at least one annual minute in which a guy is justifiably too preoccupied to have sex, right? Well, I still have hope that this is true, but it wasn’t the case with this kid. I gave away the whole damn farm for free. Jeremy had just lost interest and I found out he was chasing after Kat… I know because Kat told me. Good girl.
The moral of the story? When you want to give sex to a boy and he doesn’t fucking accept… SOMETHING IS WRONG. Very, very WRONG. Am I right? Of course I’m right. So let’s apply this lesson to my current situation. Orlando called me specifically for sex. I know he did. He knows he did. So what the fuck happened in that fucking limo? I mean, having sex in the back seat of a very expensive moving vehicle, not really my style. At least it never was, but I think both you and I know that Mr. Bloom has the ability to make me do things I don’t normally do. And there I was, offering myself to him on a black, leather interior platter and now… now, I’m sitting in some hoity-toity restaurant on the Upper East side, thinking about how completely rejected and unsatisfied I am. Good wine, though. Come to think of it… this place is really familiar…
“What’s that look about?”
Oops. Busted. “Hmm?”
“You had this look on your face that wasn’t entirely pleasant… I’m thinking either that painting over there is somehow offensive to you or, worse, I am.”
Okay, so here is the moment. That moment in a conversation between two people just getting to know each other when you can either be polite, or you can tell them exactly what you’re thinking. The former is usually the preferred way to go in the early stages of a relationship… but since I’m pretty sure what we have here isn’t a relationship, I don’t think the “usual” is appropriate. “I was just thinking about our little car ride and wondering what the hell happened.”
He seems thrown for a moment, like he was expecting the polite, ‘Oh, nothing, I was just daydreaming’ response. He recovers quickly. Of course he does. “Right, complete honesty. Good. Makes sense. Why beat around the bush, right?”
Okay, good so we’re on the same level. That’s good. “Exactly.”
He sits back and looks at me, studying my face, it seems. I don’t know what he’s looking for… so what can I do? I sit back, mirroring his expression hoping to unnerve that cool confidence that always seems to surround him. But… nope, not working.
“To be perfectly honest, I don’t know what happened,” he says, his face unreadable.
“I’m sorry about what I said, if it offended you some how,” I say and I mean it. “I thought I knew what this was.”
“What ‘what’ was?”
“This,” I say motioning to the two of us across the table. “This, us. You know… I mean, I’ve never done this before. Down in Texas-”
“I know,” he says, leaning in. He smiles that boyishly adorable smile I remember so well. It makes me think… things I should be thinking. “I don’t know if you believed me that morning when I told you that I don’t take things like this lightly, but it was true. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Yeah,” I say and I know I sound just a little bit sad. I know he noticed because his face softens and he reaches across the table and places his hand over mine.
“I may not know what came over me, but I think I know what came over you.”
First of all, I’ve never been to keen on people telling me what they think I’m feeling. Well, that’s an understatement. I hate it with a passion. That combined with the fact that I really don’t want him to know where I was coming from should have me going into full-on defensive mode in a hurry… but I don’t. Maybe it’s the way his thumb is stroking my hand or that fact that I can’t tear my eyes away from his but I don’t freak out like I would if it were anyone else. Not good. So not good.
“Did somebody break your heart, Faye?”
Whoa. Were not only doing the honesty thing… we’re doing the blunt honesty thing. What did I start? I have to decide. Do I really want to tell this man the details of my life? Yes. I do. But I shouldn’t. Right? I shouldn’t take this- what’s going on here- I shouldn’t take it there, right? “Yes.” Brain officially not connected to mouth. Fantastic.
“And you were looking for something to make you forget?”
I laugh at that just a little and pull back my hand. I don’t know what power on earth made me do that but I think I have to have a clear head right now and I cannot have a clear head when he is touching me… in any way. “Actually, I wasn’t. I was looking to wallow. Remember how I told you my friends dragged me down there to cheer me up?”
“And you said you just wanted to stay in the funk.”
“Yeah,” I nod, a rueful smile curling my lips. “I really wasn’t looking you.”
“Yeah, you were,” he says. He’s doing that thing I hate again. Only this time I don’t have his hand on mine to calm me.
“Excuse me?” Okay, I meant that to come out a lot bitchier than it did. Damn those eyes.
“Maybe I was looking for you, too.” His eyes are downcast and he says it almost to himself. Then it happens. His unruffled exterior becomes ruffled for a split second, as if he didn’t mean to say that out loud. Once again, he recovers quickly but I saw it there for that moment and it gives me great satisfaction. He looks down at the menu that’s been sitting, neglected, in front of him for the past twenty minutes. “So, what are you hungry for?”
You. Oh, not what he was talking about. Wait, wait, no changing the subject. That’s not allowed. He can’t just say something like that and not qualify it. “Nuh uh, buddy. First you tell me I was looking for you and then you say you were looking for me… and you don’t elaborate? No, sorry.”
Score! He’s completely unnerved and not too happy from the looks of it. “I’m not sure what I meant,” he says meeting my eyes and leaning in once again. “We’re being honest here, right?”
“Right.”
“I’m not sure what it was that made me want you so badly when I first saw you. I know that I made myself crazy justifying it. And to be completely honest, as we are obviously being, I haven’t really stopped driving myself crazy where you’re concerned.”
Oh, I get it now… “So that’s why you called me. To get me out from under your skin?” I’m smiling real saucy-like now. I’m trying to be teasing but I have an impending feeling of dread at where this line of conversation could lead.
“Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Alright so he’s got me there. “So where does that leave us?”
“Well, I don’t know about you but I think we should go about the business of getting out from under each other’s skin.” He grins at me like what he’s really saying is, ‘let’s go about the business of getting buck naked and fucking,’ and for some reason, despite the husky quality that damn accent has taken on, I’m not too happy about it. What did I get myself into?
“If that’s the case, then why are we here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, here, in this restaurant. Were you hoping that if you had the chance to talk to me you’d see how I’m not worth the trouble?” My blood is rising now and I feel as though I’ve just got the joke even though I heard the punch line last week. He hasn’t said anything. Fuck… I thought for sure I wouldn’t have to feel like shit until tomorrow morning. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
He takes a deep breath before he answers. “I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. But being around you again, I don’t think it’s going to happen. I guess that’s why I didn’t just take you in the back seat of that limo. Well, that and I don’t think I’m ready to be that Hollywood.”
I can’t help but crack a smile at that. Sex in the limo is terribly Hollywood. Plus, I can’t really blame him for wanting an excuse to be able to stop thinking about me… in reality, I guess that’s pretty damn flattering. I knew the deal. It’s not like we’re ever gonna be all boyfriend-girlfriend, to put it maturely. So I suppose this isn’t all that bad knowing that this sexy, British-accent-having movie star who could have anyone he wanted has come here in an attempt to get me out of his head. It’s nice to know I was there in the first place. So I soften my tone and ask again, “Where does that leave us?”
He thinks for a moment and then says something I wasn’t quite expecting. “Well, I don’t think there’s much use in denying that I like you Faye. And against my better judgment, or perhaps it’s against my morally ambiguous judgment, I don’t want to just skip over to my hotel room… I want to get to know you. This- us- may not turn out to be anything for whatever logistical reasons but, the next time I think about you, I want to have something of a little more substance to think about. I think Texas gave me just about all the sexual fantasies my brain can take. I’ll always have that part of you to think about. I want something more this time.”
Wow. Does he realize what that little speech has just done to me? My stomach is doing that flip-flop thing and I have that tightness in my chest that makes think that my heart just might be able to heal someday. Oh, but wait… “Does that mean we’re not going to, you know, skip over to your hotel room?”
“Oh, hell no.”
“Okay, good.” Whew, that could’ve sucked because beyond the emotional chest-clenching thing, that speech also really made me wanna do oh-so-many dirty things to him.
“So, I have to ask, and just tell me if I’m completely out of line, but…”
“What?”
“I didn’t ask what was wrong- what the “funk” was about- down in Texas but now that my suspicions have been confirmed-”
“You want to know what happened?” Why? Why does he want to know that? The last thing I want to do is turn into some pathetic figure in Orlando Bloom’s imagination. Like when he looks back on this, years from now, he’ll remember more about my humiliation then he will anything else that happened between us.
“It’s just that you have this sadness about you that was always worse when you thought I wasn’t looking and now I’m just thinking- who was this idiot and what did he do to you?”
“Danny.” Holy shit.
“What?”
“Danny, it’s… no fucking way…” This isn’t happening. Now I know why this fucking restaurant is so familiar… This is where I first met Danny. He loves this place… I hated it so he never took me back here- and now he’s fucking standing not twenty paces away… staring at me. And she’s next to him. Why the hell is this happening?
“Faye, what’s wrong?”
“You wanted to know who the ‘idiot’ was? His name is Danny and he’s standing right over there…”
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Better Days