It's Like Rain (Orlando Bloom/OC)

Chapter 7: Resolving Something

loved you once

love you still

always have

always will”

12:13 pm on Wednesday afternoon, three days later, I wake up in a bed, wrapped in my sheet and blanket. For a second or two I have to strain my memory to remember where the hell I am. The sky is the first thing I see, when I open my eyes, due to the clear line of sight to the window and balcony.

     The sky, yes. In Morocco, it was almost 98 per cent of the time clear of clouds and the Sun was always present, but here the sky is grey. And instead of waking up in a luxurious room of all the hues of brown and gold this room is dark brown and white.

     Oh, yes, London, England, Great Britain.

     Three days and counting.

     We left Morocco on Sunday evening, after the crew had finished up some scenes, Bloom basically still in his costume when we got to the airport.

     “You’re in a hurry to get the hell out of here?” I had asked him when he had rushed into the men’s room to change.

     “Definitely. A real vacation with you? That, my Sweet, is a no-brainer,” he had answered ceremoniously.

     And here I was thinking that the trip to Morocco was a vacation for me. I’m still in an uproar of what I’m doing in England, when the original plan was to take a short vacation in Morocco. The operative word being ‘short’, in case you missed it.

     Sure, he was working, I admit, but I wasn’t and I also wasn’t supposed to come to England. A short vacation, hop in a plane and fly back and go to work!

     Where did you forget that plan, girl?!

     I crawl from the bed, yawning – hearing my jaw crack once – and reach for my robe that is thrown over the chair’s back.

     Oh, God, do I feel hangover – not been drinkin’, mind you! – tired and sore all over – not that way sore, mind you again!

     My pillow is a murder! And every time I fall asleep, I seem to snuggle against Bloom, no matter what I try.

     You wouldn’t believe me if I told you in what kind of positions I’ve found myself during these three days! The first morning here, and I wake up with my head against his stomach, curled into a ball like a cat, his hand resting on my waist and all the covers on the floor. That was fun, waking up so stiff that you can’t move any muscles without feeling screeching pain all over the place.

     I think I need to go on a jog tonight, if I’m actually going to stay here longer. I mean, the man is supposed to be this adrenaline junkie, but he hasn’t really showed any of that addiction of his to me.

     I think he thinks I might break. Or that I might freak out.

     Me? Freak out? Me? Break?? Me, who, while studying six months in Oregon State University, worked at the Boring Tavern and Topless Revue?!

     Yes, the town is really called Boring, and no, I didn’t shake my booty with bare breasts, I got to wear a shirt and shake up some cocktails for the alcoholics. Well, a shirt that said “There may be only one stoplight but we’ve got plenty of headlights”, but a shirt nevertheless.

     A fun job, dodging groping hands of drunken lumberjacks and half-drunken, horny university students, then crawl back at home to read some Zoology Throughout the Ages 1-0-1 to the wee hours of the night.