Prologue


I haven’t seen her for too long a time, and honestly, it was all so weird during the period in which we were away. But, then, everything was different and odd in New Zealand. My life itself, was a total rush of new sensational things, and the fact that she wasn’t beside me could be considered one of them, after all.

Yet, I can’t deny that before leaving for Wellington I left a big portion of my soul in her hands, silently, naturally. She probably didn’t even realize it, but I did. How could I not? She has been my family since the very first hard days in London. I was sixteen, young and full of hopes, but, nonetheless, I was a complete stranger in a huge town. And alone. Not that I was scared about it. I have always liked facing new experiences and challenges, but meeting her was a heaven sent gift, for which I’ll always be grateful to god.

I still can picture her, in her oversize pullover, dark blue jeans and her Adidas sneakers, big dark brown eyes and full pink lips offering me her help me to find the book I was looking for, in one of the dusty shelves of the London Library. She was a funny little thing, but sweet and full of energy. I actually have to thank my research on Milton for letting me get to know one of the persons I consider sacred, one of the persons I would protect and defend from the difficulties of everyday life against all odds, one of the persons I cling to when the unreality of this mad existence I’ve been living in the past three years tries to take me away, to blow my mind and give me the illusion I am the king of the world. She’s true and honest to me, rough sometimes, but I know I can trust her. I know she’ll never lie to me, or flatter me because I am what I am now. I see that to her, I am still the same silly male friend who used to cheat on her way of dressing, or dragging her in surreal experiences, only for the sake of it. I am not a renowned movie star to her, I am still Orlando. Only Orlando, and I respect her for doing that.

Our paths divided four years ago: I had just won my role of Legolas in Lord of the Rings, she had just found out she had to leave London for Los Angeles, to become a Research Assistant at the Faculty Of Comparative Literatures at USC. Real life was finally calling us out, our dreams seemed to get shape, after all the time we had spent imagining our future, there it was, in front of us, ready to fulfil the premises it was displaying under our eyes. It was sad, in a way, and hurting. We had shared so much so far, we were in a way deeply bounded, in something that looked like a strong familiar relationship. We had been almost indivisible for six long years at that time, overcoming happy and sad times, silly and serious situations.
I was teary and melancholic the day I left Heathrow for L.A., and promised myself I’d do my best to keep our relation alive, no matter what.

And I am proud of myself, because I have been true to my commitment; here we are, four years later, once again together. Another time, another town, but always the two of us. Fussing and fighting, pouting and yelling for unimportant things, but still together, even if I keep on flying from country to country, even if I am working damn hard from location to location, attending parties and premieres in this or that town when not country. Even if she is always closed in that gloomy room of her Faculty and stubbornly refuses to accompany me to the several glamourous parties or events when I invite her, even if she always complains about me and depicts me as bloody, or wanker.

We are still the two carefree friends who used to hang out in back old days in grey London, we still belong to each other in a very particular and funny way.

She is part of my life and will always be.
No matter how it will change.
No matter what the future brings.

Title: It's all in my hands.

Disclaimer: This is a work of my imagination. Orlando may or may not be the way I depict him here. I do not own him - le sigh! - and admitting I wish I did is ininfluent I know.
I do not own either the famous characters I'll be introducing.
But I do own the female lead character and all the storyline.

Rating: R for swearing and adult content.

Copyright@Bloomiecurse: do not take without permission.

Summary: This is a spin off of Last Chance on the Stairway. Practically Orlando's side of the story.

*sigh* gosh...
beauty in it's nicest form...
How can anybody not love your writing?

I think it's impossible :)

huggles
Laila

*realizes it's rated only a R*

...



*cough* kidding kidding!

I love how you make them so real, Ursi. I actually feel like I know these guys....

I can't wait to see how this will progress....This is my favorite fiction (both this and LCOTS) of any I've read :love:

Yay ure posting this here yayness

1

“Orlando, would you please take your filthy boots off my couch?” she tosses a severe look at me, and I repay her with one of my most charming smiles, waiting a couple of seconds more before obeying to her order.

She raises an eyebrow, placing both her hands over her hips. My smiles can melt the coldest damsel, but they don’t work on her, I know, but I always try.
I am a stubborn chap, and hope that one day she will subside, this would be the biggest satisfaction ever. I know the chances are really dim, but I don't give up so easily, even if I know that she'd rather die before doing what I expect her to do. Honestly, I can't tell who between the two of us is the most stubborn one.

But, anyway! This is one of the things I love of her, her unique way of approaching me, and dealing with me, sometimes I find it hard to believe she is a girl!
Don’t get me wrong. She is a very pretty lass, but our relationship is of a special kind, deep rooted like the one I can have with a guy.
More rooted, in a way, than the one I have with Atti, my queer friend.

Honestly, she is more important to me than Atti, but I’ll never tell him, I am not brave enough to defy his gay pride, if you know what I mean! It was already hard refusing his particular attentions and not hurting his feelings, don’t feel so mean at the moment. And, honestly, don't want to run the risk to get a bad headache! He can squeal like an eagle. I shiver at the mere thought!

But back to topic! Now that I look at her, plopping onto the couch beside me, I realize that there are top four things I totally adore in her, besides this one.

Do you want to know?

Her laughter.
It is fresh and silvery, spontaneous and never exaggerated. It simply flows, naturally, and makes me feel serene. I can’t tell you the real reason why, but it is something I have never found in any of the girls I have known so far, and, modestly, I have known quite a few of them!

Okay, you might think I am an asshole. She would agree with you on that point, and never loses a chance to tell it to me, and in a way it might be true. But I am realistic; I know exactly what women hink when they see me, I am not stupid. And I like to play with it, but deep down inside I don't give a damn about being a hottie.
I am an actor, and acting is what is important to me. Not being a pretty face over the cover of a magazine. She knows it. And she knows I like to play the part of the heartthrob only for fun.

But back to her laughter; it gives me a sense of peace, when all the rest of my life rushes madly. When things madden I look for her, we abandon ourselves to total nonsense, and there! I am back to normal life. The usual bloody wanker she has chosen as best buddy.

Her peculiar sense of humor.
She can be so surrealistic when she really wants to. Sarcasm is the lens through which she looks at life, and this assures a certain degree of originality in all she does. Even if it means complicating things a tad bit. But at least you never get bored when you are in her company.

She doesn’t give a damn about being always glamorous and perfect.
Man! That’s better than winning a lottery for me! She doesn’t care about breaking nails, or being always immersed in foundation and mascara. She doesn’t even care about dressing up as if she had just gone out of the pages of Vogue.
And ehy! That’s a real blast! I can remember the thousands of times I dropped by at her place and didn’t have to wait centuries for her to get ready to go out.

She gives golden advice, and is always there for me, when I really need her.
She’s better than my mother sometimes, and she is honest to me, and can provide such lucid analyses of situations I usually don’t understand a thing. She says that I am dumb, all charms but few brains, and that this is the reason why I always turn to her in seek of her advice. I let her think so and smile of it.
Have I ever been touched by her words? I don’ think so. If I ever was I don’t remember anymore. I know she doesn’t really believe what she says. She respects me and knows me better than anyone else.

She lights up a ciggie and start talking about her day. Oh man! There we go, guys! She'll certainly go on for centuries! I lean back to the couch to seek for a comfortable position. This will take long.
Darn me! What on earth was I thinking when I asked her to tell me about her day at the university?

Because, ehy! There are, at the same time, also things I can’t really stand about her.

She suffers from sudden attacks of verbal incontinence, and I feel this is going to be one of those occasions, where I'll beg her on my knees to stop flooding me with her ramblings.
She’s one of those girls who can suddenly turn from a very quiet attitude to an unbearingly messy series of endless rattles, especially when she is nervous.
Sometimes I feel the urge to tap her mouth with a hand and hit her head with a stick to make her fall unconscious for the moments enough to make me regain peace. It's something that comes up violently from deep side of me, but luckily, I am not I psycho! And I always end up in listening to her resignedly! And developed particular resources to have her stop when I can't take it any longer: bribe!
Yeah! You read right; I bribe her with chocolate bars.
It works and keeps her silent. And my nerves preserved.

She is not a veggie.
She keeps on eating all those red meat dishes, bacon, eggs despite the fact I have been explaining her several times the benefits of being a vegetarian for an healthy body.
She says she doesn’t give a damn about it, that she is young and that she has time to think about her health. My stomach revolts when we have our meals together, and she seems to have made a point to herself to show me proudly what she chooses to eat.
But I must admit that her kitchen shelves are always full of vegetarian products, not to talk about the fact she knows about my intolerance to dairy products and has always ready for me boxes of soymilk.
Ummm... this should be listed as something I like in her.

She smokes like a chimney.
I quit smoking two years ago, and I probably shouldn’t say a word about it, but sometimes she seems compulsive with her cigarettes. When life gets a bit harder, or when she simply can’t have her daily share of chocolate, there she goes with her darn ciggies, putting one up and lighting another one.


She refuses to admit she is a very good looking girl.
This is what I hate the most in her, and what makes me remember she is a girl. So much so, like any girl on this earth, she feel she is never pretty enough for anything, always suffering from a fucking sense of inferiority. I believe this must be one of the reasons why she refuses to come with me to any of the events I always invite her to. That’s something I’ll never understand, something that has always made me go mad, even when dealing with my sister, Samantha!
How can women be so complicated?

I know what you might be thinking, now. It is something that everyone remarks at this stage when I tell them about my relationship with her.
I tend to give the impression that we we have a love affair.
Everyone thinks that at least, if we do not now, we must have done so in the past.

And I am sorry to turn you down, but, no.
We haven’t, and we don’t.

Even if… ten years of acquaintance are long, and we shared so many things and facts...

2

“Will you ever give up, Orlando?” she withdraws to look at me in a very comical manner, her big dark brown eyes setting in mine quizzically. I raise an eyebrow at her. “Nah, seriously friend!” she places her pale hand over my arm and squeezes it gently. “Will you ever understand I don’t belong to your glittering stardom world?” she grins childishly, her nice dimples appearing lightly on her cheeks.

“C’mon, Jazz! I don’t believe I am asking so much of you!” I then remark, crossing my legs and reaching out my hand to her cigarettes’ packet. “It’s just a fucking party!” she widens her eyes as she realizes I am grabbing a cigarette.

“Don’t tell me you are doing what I think you’re doing!” she exclaims with a flabbergasted look.

“Pardon?” I like what it’s going to happen now. One of our usual funny skirmishes, we will keep on playing, till one of us will give up, exhausted.

“You are smoking!” she hisses narrowing her eyes, pointing her slender finger at my chest and standing up to sit back on her tucked legs.

“Am I?” I ask placing the cigarette between my lips and picking up the lighter from the table. She scrunches her face.

“You are!”

“I am! But you are changing the subject to our conversation, J.T.!”

“Dare you not ever come up with a boring scolding next time you see me smoking, right?” she threatens me, going on in her talking and willingly ignoring what I have just told her. “You and your bloody rants about the pros of an healthy body! Arsehole!” she pouts, crossing her arms on her chest. I smile, as I consider the fact that she looks really pretty, even if she doesn’t show a trace of make up on her face, even if her slender body is wrapped by an anonymous sweat suit. I deeply inhale a drag of smoke and then hand her the cigarette.

“Okay, okay! You are right!” she literally steals it from my fingers and takes a drag of it. “I am an arsehole, but wouldn’t you mind listening to me for a while?” she sighs, rolls her eyes, but remains silent.

I was wrong: she doesn’t seem much interested in fussing and fighting now. I must find a why to bother her. She’s so funny when she gets angry with me. I keep myself silent as well, swallowing in an attempt to make the bitter taste of tobacco go away from my mouth. I am not used to it anymore. She chuckles.

“What?” I ask; I know she is smiling at me.

“Your fan base should see what you look like now!” she comments seriously.

“And how do I look like, pray?” I am curious to know.

“You look like any other jerk next door!” she laughs, reaching out her hand to pull away the curl which has just fallen off my forehead. “Stop those grimaces!” she then whispers referring to the several grins and faces I must have done while trying to wipe away the tobacco’s taste. “And stop smoking, if you are not used to it anymore!” her tone’ s sweet now and I can’t help smiling tenderly with a nod of my head. For an instant this scene reminisced me of one we shared some years ago, same actions but different situation.

I have done lots of silly things so far, you know? I have always been a very exuberant guy, since I was a child. I was one of those who can’t keep themselves sit long enough to share a decent conversation, and in a way I am still. I have always had the need of living life to the fullest, dragging along the people who used to live beside me. If you add to these elements the fact that I am a tad bit clumsy, there you have a fatal result! I am accident-prone, if I can say that, and in more than one occasion I visited hospital emergency rooms, back in London. Jazz was the one who usually ran there the first to find out if I was still alive, if not taking me there herself, for serious and minor injuries.

I still can see her, in a dark and cold English late afternoon, entering hurriedly the gray Charing Cross hospital’s waiting room, eyes searching hungrily through the people sitting there and lighting up once spotted me.

“What has happened this time?” she asked me worried, but in a reproaching tone.

It was a minor injury, I only broke my wrist, after a bad fall while playing soccer with my friends, but at first I tried to make it bigger than it was, informing her that I had probably broken my arm and more ribs than I had, and the amazing thing was that her look turned from severe to extremely worried.

“Did you call your family?” she asked me, shifting in her seat nervously, rubbing the palms of her hands, the one against the other, frantically, her eyes moving quickly from mine to the nurse walking in front of us and back, unable to rest in a specific spot..

“I didn’t have the time, Jazz!” there I wasn’t lying! I had taken a taxi to the nearest hospital, asking my friend Vaughn to phone her. “I believed you’d do that!”

“Oh me, Orli! This time you have made it really big! I must phone your mom!” I still can see a sort of desperation in her eyes, and remember that I didn’t feel sorry for cheating on her, neither a bit. And then she did something really sweet from her part. I was resting the injured wrist on my knees, over the other hand, and a strand of hair had fallen off my forehead. She had turned and looked at me intensely, and with the sweetest smile she pulled it behind my ear, like she has just done now, adding that everything would certainly be okay! That this one couldn’t be worst than any previous time something similar had happened.

It is weird, you know? We have been only friends so far, but we have shared moments that usually only long time partners share, and I don’t know about her, but…

“Are you listening to me, Orlando?” her sharp voice wakes me up from my drifting memory.

“Pardon?”

“I was only telling you that if I want to stop working and making a good living I could simply sell all the bunch of pictures of yours I have to the first tabloid! Man!” she snickers, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “I’d become billionaire!”

“Oh! You’d never do that!” I remark grabbing her by her wrist, teasingly.

“Never say ever, friend!” she comments, quickly setting loose from my grip.

“Are you eating with me tonight?” she then asks out of the blue.

“If you promise me you’ll come with me to that party!”

“Oh me! You are more bugging than a fly, Orlando!” she protests. “Why should I?”

“Perhaps simply because I am asking you?” I look at her intensely, with my best begging glance. This time I do want her to be by my side. I am proud of what I have reached so far, and I feel like I want to share it with her. At least once.

She lets out a deep sigh, and then waves a hand dismissively in the air.

“You know me, O.B.! Glamour is not my second name!”

“Rubbish! You are terrific!” I look at her, raise an eyebrow. “Well… when you dress up like a woman, I mean!” this will make her get angry, I know.

“Ahhh!!!” she narrows her eyes. “You! You! You…”

“Use your own words, honey!” I cut her off in an aloof way.

“Wanker! That is!” we look at each other, seriously for just a moment, then burst out in a loud laughter.

“This means you are coming, dear?” I then ask squeezing her hand. She doesn’t say a word. She nods, simply, stretching her lips in a shy smile, avoiding my triumphant stare. "Thanks Jazz!" I blurt out merrily. "Thanks!" she bends her head aside, looks at me tenderly, then stands up, and smacking lightly my leg adds:

“Now that you’ve obtained what you wanted! Come and help me in the kitchen! Unless you don't want to have scrambled eggs and bacon for dinner!”

I follow her silently, unable to hide my happiness, and think that I could even make such an effort tonight! For the first time ever she'll be with me in an official occasion. And I'll be able to show her what it really means being Orlando Bloom, nowadays

Bloody show off wanker! *loL*
He very much likes himself, right!
urgh!

yay yay... :)

hehe...
bloooody bloom!
that is!

:)
:yay:

hug
Laila
:baby:

I friggin LOVE this line....LOVE IT! I swear I think you should print these two stories out when you are done and make a cute cover with Jazz and Orli and distribute them to your devoted fans!!!! :tsk:

I love this fic! i really do!!

I love Last chance ... but i've not be able to finish it :blush: it's so long!!! :yes: but it's soooo good! at the same time that this one!!

luv :love:
ANdie!

3

I walk to the British Airways check-in counter slowly, stepping in my usual relaxed and self confident way, as I try to ignore a weird sense of bother which is stirring within. I drag my trolley lazily, eyes hidden behind my shades, hair gathered in my hat.
I move among faceless bodies, Jazz's sad eyes impressed in the back of my mind in something that I could easily describe as hurting, even if I can't tell why.I head straight to the desk where a smiling blonde girl is busy in listing the embarking procedures to a bored business man, wrapped in his boring blue dress, boringly perfect and yet anonymous.

Ummm.. she’s a very good looking chick, honestly. I stop behind the yellow line, ready to take off my glasses and flash her one of my charming smiles, the ones that always work with women, regardless of their age. Jazz always tells I am an arsehole, and that I should start thinking with my brain, instead that with my…

“Can I see your ID, Sir?” Kimberly – that’s the name glittering from the pin she proudly shows over her chest! – sing songs with a light quirk of her full lips. I nod, slipping ticket and passport over the desk, then slowly lifting my hand to my sunglasses and taking them off. I know what is following: as soon as she reads my full name and checks out my id her eyes will widen, she won’t be able to prevent herself from raising her stare and look at me surprised, catching her breath, eventually.

Man! That was so cool in the beginning! Don’t get me wrong, people! I have never had particular problems in attracting girls, but since Lord of the Rings my reputation tends to help me further with the other sex, and if years ago I had a huge variety of lasses to choose among, now the only thing I have to do is keeping myself aside and let them decide who is going to be honored by my presence!

I am kidding! I am kidding, guys! I know you are not like Jazz who really believes I am that sort of wanker! I can be the most affectionate and nice of guys, not too romantic, maybe not in the traditional way, but a true sweetheart!

I smile at Kimberly and enjoy of the sparkles her eyes seem to be enlightened with as soon as she realizes who I am. The next sentence of hers is spoken with a trembling voice, by a quivering mouth. I rub the back of my neck, as she tries to keep a veil of professionalism and explains me the embarking procedures. She then finally gives me back my passport and my boarding pass and finally tosses a broad clear smile at me.

“Have a safe trip with British Airways, Mr. Bloom!” she trills locking my eyes intensely.

“Thank you Kimberly!” I answer cheerfully with a nod of my head and a captivating smile. I turn on my heels, wear my shades once again and proceed towards the security area.
I try to take my time, actually as, alas, I perfectly know what I have to face. I slip my hand absent mindedly in the back pocket of my jeans, where I have safely hidden a thing that I consider sacred and of vital importance for me when I have to face a flight. Just to make sure it is still where I put it.

Four years ago I had to face one of the most dreadful experiences of all my life, so far, something which has changed my approach to my own existence, something I and all the persons I love will never forget for the rest of our days.

I fell of three stories off a friend’s porch, and please don't comment. It is painful enough to rembember as I don't have a serious excuse for it, and either a silly one, as I can't even tell I was drunk!

I won’t make it longer, I don’t really like remembering that event, as I ran the risk of spending what I have to live on a wheelchair. You know? One of my vertebras was brushed and I bruised my spinal cord. I won’t mention my ribs, even if, in that occasion, I also broke a couple of them! Bu that was nothing compared to the damaged I had caused to my back.
Doctors had to wait for four days before they could operate; I was unconscious most of the time, but my mother, my sister and even Jazz, always talk of really painful moments, where nobody really knew what it would become of me. During the operation they inserted pins in my back in order to let me stand and walk again.
I am thankful to whatever god decided to smile on me that day, but I am always reminded of the fool I have been – as if I really needed it! – every time I go through airport security.
I guess you are wondering why, eh! Aren’t you? Well! Wait a second and you’ll see.

I stand in line, hands crossed over my belly, fingers tapping over my thighs, when I recall I have to take out my handy and my keys out of my backpack. I do it, almost automatically and finally hand it out to the officer. I calmly step ahead and go through the metal detector, squeeze my eyes and count up to three.

One.

Two.

Three!

Bloody hell! Here we go again!
The alarms go off! Miserable me is going to be frisked, once again!

“Sir, is there any metal in your pockets?” an enormous lady in a blue uniform asks me blankly in her Southern accent. “Would you mind stepping back and walk through the metal detector once again?”

I smile warmly, slip my hand quickly in my jeans back pocket, grip my medical certificate, just in case they would need to check it out.

“No, I am sorry madam!” I smile once again confidently, feeling people’s eyes all on me; I am used to it, now, and it doesn’t bother me anymore. Everyone usually looks at me nowadays, even when I don't make the alarms go mad because of my rod. “I have got pins in my back!” I inform her with a very sorry look, but in a normal way. That's routine, for me, after all!

“Ah!” she exchanges a quick glance with her colleague standing at my side: what now? Do they believe I am a terrorist or what?

“I have got a medical certificate, madam!” I add thickening my British accent: when stare doesn't work, accent will surely do!

“Nah, that’s okay!” she finally exclaims with a light nod of her head. “Go right ahead!” then concludes with an embarrassed look, which makes me understand it is not because of my accent. She must feel sorry for me.

Rubbish!
She really deserves a flashing smile, now. And I toss it at her as I grasp my backpack and start walking towards the gate.

See? That is what I go through every time I have to take a darn flight. Jazz has so much fun when she has the chance to fly with me.

Jazz! Jazz!
That weirdly sad look she threw at me before parting, few minutes ago suddenly pops up in my mind, and again! I have to face an hideous sense of unease.
Honestly, deep down inside I was really sorry to leave her behind this time. Can’t tell why. Probably it has to do with the fact that I suspect she has got a fancy over Elijah and that i fear she might be bruised by it.

I know her, and even if she tries to, she cannot hide from me! I realized it the same evening of the party, they way she looked at him sideways, the way she spoke, the way she behaved.

There are little gestures in Jazz that are clear signs of the fact she is interested in a guy! I have known her for ten years so far, and I have learnt my lesson well!
She is nervous, and starts playing with her hair in a way that gets on my nerves. Do you know? That way a girl keeps on wrapping strands of hair around her fingers, or pulling them behind her ears. And that shining smile plastered on her face all the time.

I am unable to twitch the angles of my mouth in a grin. When Jazz likes a guy she is able to do the silliest things on earth. Oh man! She is naturally funny, but in such occasions as these she is better than any movie of Monthy Pyton. I so much care for her!
But I believe Elijah is not the right guy for Jazz! Like Nigel! I reckon she always falls in love with the wrong guy. She has this unique quality of falling for complete wankers.
Nigel for instance! He is the longest relationship she has ever had.
That cold, snobbish, boring fish! I can’t believe she spent so much time after him!
Well! That was a very difficult and confusing period for our friendship, it also coincided with that bloody accident of mine…

My mind drifts away for a couple of seconds to four years ago, to Jazz and Nigel.
To myself confined in a hospital bed cursing against my sister because she had told Jazz what had happened. I never wanted her to see me in such a weak state… i was feeling so delirious and mad for rage for a long series of reasons.

But, ehy! I guess we’ll have time to think of it better!
I'll have time to ponder about some facts of life, of my life I have never understood completely.

I have to try to find a way to let her know she has to be careful with Elijah: he has a girlfriend, and what aggravates the whole situation is that he is mad about her. Crazy in love with his Anne, in a way I have never been so far.

In a way I wish I was, sometimes!

4

Man! I wish I could simply remain here, comfortably sitting on my couch, Maude at my feet, playing with my shoes and barking noisily, a good CD in my CD player and quietly rest.

But, no! I am Orlando Bloom, now, the actor. And the actor needs to have a busy social life, take care of his public relations, and make appearances around as much as he can.
Because, as my agent has repeated the whole morning long, while I was in her office, I haven’t even begun to reach the peak of my popularity.

Yeah! Sure!

She’s right, but I do need to do something normal, once in a while, you know? It’s true, I am an actor, and this is what I want to do, more than anything else in the world, but I am not interested in becoming a cover boy, you know? A “hottie”!
That’s crap! I am more than a pretty face, and I wonder who really cares about what’s behind it.

Maude suddenly stands on her paws, ears alerted… I wonder what she is up to, now. I actually fear it, as she seems to be as clumsy as her master, sometimes. And she could be able to destroy a whole house in no more than five minutes. Leave her free and she'll become Terminator!

She seems hesitant, for a while, but then goes back to her favourite activity, biting at my shoes, it is to say, and barks feebly. I drift my stare from the script I have been trying to read so far to the window. It’s cloudy, outside, but it is not raining, yet. I guess it wouldn’t be a bad idea going out for a stroll, before getting ready for the next bloody party I have to attend.
I yawn, fighting the urge to rummage every single drawer of my flat to look for the packet of cigarettes I hid the day I decided to stop smoking.

What a day it was! I had come back to London for the premiere of the first movie of the Trilogy of Lord of the Rings.
Jazz and Atti were hanging out at my place, babbling of silly things and smoking like chimneys.
I have always had thisifoolish idea that, if Atti wasn’t gay, they would be the perfect match.
They share the same love for witty conversations, and puns and have a particular sense of humor, and can be loud and merry almost the same way.
And are so touchy. They can cheat on you as much as they wan, but ehy! Dare you not doing it with them! You’ll unleash hell with the blink of an eye.
But I know that Jazz likes him, maybe just as much as she hated Vaughn. Vaughn had been one of my best friends for long time, and I always knew that Jazz detested him, even if I still wonder why, and she was kind of celebrating when we lost of sight. Atti, instead, has all of her esteem, even if they haven’t seen for ages.

Anyway… they were smoking in this same room, wrapped up in a gray cloud, when I announced that I wouldn’t bring a cigarette to my mouth any longer.

“You what?” Atti had chirped, looking at me as if I had killed someone.

“I decided I’ll quit smoking!” Jazz had remained weirdly silent. She took a long drag of her cigarette, knitted her brows, and then tossed at me one of those glances which can mean you are telling the smartest thing ever, but at the same time can make you feel the biggest idiot of all mankind.

“You know, man?” she had blurted out in a wise way. “I give you a week!” and then exchanged a cunning look with Atti. “You won’t resist that long!”

“Yes, Orli! You’ve been telling the same bullshit over and over, maybe since the very day we met! She’s right! You won’t last that long!” Atti added squealing like a girl.

But I did!
I proudly showed them both what kind of material Orlando Bloom is made of, even if I willingly avoided mentioning all the pain I have suffered, and the… aermmm… small defeats I met along the way! But I’d rather die before telling that to Jazz! You know? I can handle Atti, I know how to make him shut up, in a way, he can be less aggressive than Jazz! But she can become a really pain, bugging and stubborn as she is!

I haven’t called her since the day I arrived in London. I usually do, when we part I mean, I always let her know that I am doing fine. But this time I’ve been procrastinating this phone call, always pretending I have more important things to do.

I know she thinks that I am the usual granted wanker she always reproach me to be, but, that’s me! I can’t help it! I have no excuse, because I have had the time and the chance of doing it.
I simply avoided it. I didn’t like the way I felt the day of my departure, you know? Feeling sad and gloomy because I was leaving her behind. As if it was the first time! I felt kind of morbid, and I don’t like it.

Jazz is Jazz! A sort of institution in my life. She is the perfect best friend a guy would love to have. Honest, loyal and supportive. Hilarious and smart, and quick enough to understand how you feel from a simple glance. I have been so blessed the day we met, and I won’t let anything interfere with this perfect relationship. If any of you out there believes that a male to female friendship is impossible, simply look at us! You’ll realize how easy and possible it is. Our relationship is not spoiled by all that unbearable sexual tension, and desire, and distress that usually color relationships between men and women.
We are two beings who care the one for the other unselfishly, without any obscure interest.

I can’t hide that there has been a time when I believed I fancied her, but it happened before I got caught in my accident. We had been living too close then and probably I mistook it all for love. We were so lucky that she had fallen for another guy… I would have spoiled it all, assumably.
But life has its own plans, and here we are, two intimate friends.
Just friends, and I am so proud of it! She is too important to me, to let everything be ruined by stupid sentimental involvement. I wouldn’t lose her for nothing else in the world! I’d even give my life for her, was it necessary.

The ringing of the phone drifts me away from my absorption: could it be otherwise? Maude has started barking at it, as if she was defending me from this bother.

“Orlando Bloom!”

“Hi Orli!” Elijah’s voice is unmistakable! I could recognize its filppancy among thousands different voices.

“Hi mate! How are you?”

“Doing great, man! What about you?” he pauses to take a long drag of his cigarette, and I can picture him blowing out a steady stream of smoke. “Am I bothering you?”

“Not at all, Lij! I was simply making up my mind about what to do in the next two hours!” I frown trying to make a quick count of time difference… it must be pretty early in Los Angeles. I wonder what is the reason that dragged him out of his bed so early to call me.

“Time to kill? I can’t believe you have spare time, Orlando! No girl to use your killing look upon?”

“Sod off, Lij!”

I wonder why they have to imagine me like a twentyfour/seven horny young male! I mean! I am like any twentysix years old guy, and it’s always the other way around! Girls trying to win me over, and not me obsessing and stalking them! But I won’t say anything now. We’d start the usual conversation in which I always end up defeated, because Elijah can be so persuasive, and has this magic quality of bringing people to his side and they don’t even realize why it happened.
I believe it’s the power of his innocent eyes, and the fact that he still looks like a sixteen years old boy.

“Woke up from the wrong side of the bed, mate?” he giggles.

“Well, actually, it has been a fairly nice day so far!” I remark, underlining that it has been since he decided to call me. He laughs hard.

“Oooh Orli! I love you, and know you love me with the same intensity!”

“Yeah! Sure!” I snort, unable to hold a grin. “So! What’s up over there, brother?”

“Nothing and everything at the same time!” I roll my eyes! There we go with his usual riddles.

“Interesting, Elijah! You know I won’t beg you to tell me the truth, do you?” I warn him.

He likes being begged to do things, but I won’t play his game this time. One year and a half with him in New Zealand taught me something!

“Oh man! You are really unbearable today, you know? What’d miss?”

“Nothing!” I answer trying to sound flat. “Why do I fear you called me for a specific reason, Elijah Wood?”

“Do I have to have a specific reason to call you Orlando Bloom? We lived together for a year and a half… does the term friendship sound new to you?”

“C’mon, Elijah! Spare me that crap!” I blurt out among giggles. This is Elijah! The funniest smartarse I have ever had the chance to meet so far!

“Okay, okay! I give up! You are too intelligent to play around!”

Why do I feel he’s cheating on me now? I don’t care! I feign I am playing his game.

“You finally admit it!”

“Yes, Sherlock! You caught me! There is actually something I want to ask you.”

“Seriously?” I am surprised. He hums. “Okay, shoot then!”

“I don’t actually know where to start from…” he babbles embarrassedly.

“From the start perhaps?”

Oh me! That was bad, Orlando! Really bad.

“Nah, seriously, Orli. I met Jazz the other day, in a PC store…”

“You did?”

In a PC store! Gah! I would never visit such useless places. Technology is a drag, one of the most scary monsters of our times.

“Yes! That friend of yours is the most hilarious charming babe I have ever met so far, Orlando! You wanted to keep her all for you, didn’t you?”

The most hilarious charming… BABE? I am flabbergasted.

“This was not my intention, man! There had been no occasion so far…” I inform him feeling a weird bothered. “And, yes! She is hilarious, and can be charming in her own way… but… you called her babe?”

“Well, I invited her to spend the night with us…”

“Us, who?” I inquiry, maybe a bit harshly.

“Dom, Soof… Anne came as well… something wrong, Orli?”

“Sure! Nothing’s wrong, Lij… go ahead!”

“Well… we had major fun… and things with Anne are… ummm… how can I describe them?”

“Ah don’t ask me! I don’t know a thing about your things with Anne!” I say sourly. Elijah seems not to notice.

“You know how much I loved her, but things became too hard to handle…”

You loved her? You mean you don't anymore?

“We hade a quarrel that night, so I am officially on the market, once again!” he chuckles embarrassingly.

“What has Jazz got to do with it?” I inquiry suspiciously.

Gah! Officially on the market! What an expression!

“She is one of the reasons why I decided to take some time on my own… I mean from my relationship with Anne…”

“Elijah, I warn you!” I say bluntly.

I don’t admit any cheating around with Jazz! She’s my friend, and she’s not one of those chicks he can easily tease.

“No cheating around with Jazz, okay?”

“Ehy, man! Get a grip! I respect her! And I have reasons to desire her company!”

“I don’t give a fucking damn about your reasons Elijah! I don’t admit any fooling around with her!”

“Orli, chill out man! You are getting territorial!”

“I am not territorial, Elijah! She’s not my girlfriend! But I care about her…”

He is maybe right! I am getting nervous for nothing…

“Yeah! I know that! And I only want to get to know her better, that’s it! Is it a crime?”

“I suppose not!” I mutter under my breath. “Well how can I help you, friend?”

“I was wondering if you could give me her phone number… I didn’t have a chance to ask her the other night, because Dom took her home, and I would like to meet her once again, if Your Royal Territorialness doesn’t get too much bugged by it!”

5

I slowly stir in my bed, swallowing and refusing to open my eyes wide… I feel bad, as if I hadn’t slept at all, and I wish I could remain in bed all day long, instead of facing another long series of duties, trying to understand why the hell I have to do all that crap my agent keeps on odering me to do, all in the name of my career.
Growling, I stretch my hand to grab the other cushion that I usually have in my bed and abruptly open my eyes scared: through my blurry sight I spot a blonde girl sleeping beside me and images of the past night pop up in my mind, hastily, rushing and making me realize that I did it again.

The party I attended was pretty cool , the music was the right one and people weren’t that bad either. Then someone, whose name I can’t remember came closer and insisted I’d met this new promise of British Television, Carrie Cartwright. I think I had already heard her name somewhere, but I have been living such a hectic period of lately that I couldn’t tell exactly where. I did my best to keep my cool and avoid my jaws to fall on the ground when I was introduced to her.
She is one beauty! Long flawless legs, slender waist wrapped up in a mini dress bluntly showing her cleavage. All of a sudden I totally forgot about the fact I was bothered by Elijah’s phone call.

Yes! That was it. I was mainly pissed off at the idea of Elijah cheating on Jazz. I had to restrain myself from picking up the phone and call my best friend to tell her to be careful. It is something I can’t understand, honestly! You know a person for a long time and do your best to take care of her, and keep her protected from any harm. And then, one fine day you make the mistake of introducing your spoilt friend to her and all the efforts you’ve been doing for all the time of your friendship they are canceled, all at once. And it doesn’t matter you tell yourself it’s not your business, that people are adults and they can do whatever they like.
No! You feel totally bugged by it and would like to do your best to avoid foreseen sufferance.

So, what you do is going to a party, getting to know a stunning beauty and letting her trap you in her charms, so that paparazzis can picture the two of you together while you flirt and end the night in your bed, playing Nine weeks and a half with her.

Good Orlando! That’s exactly the way one is supposed to help a friend.

I look at her, as I hear a moan escaping from her mouth… this reminds me of the past night, and in a way excites me… I could probably wake her up and… oh goddamnit!
Maude’s barking loud in my direction: she has appeared out of nowhere making me startle. I hope she won’t wake up Carrie…

“Maude! Hush!” I order her, but she seems not to hear me and barks once again, louder this time. I can’t understand the reason why this bloody dog seems to be happy to do the exact opposite I always ask her to.

Honestly! It has always been like that. Jazz says it is all my fault, that I don’t let her feel I am her master, but damnit! I am! I can’t help smiling if I think of the fact she always listens to Jazz, instead. I always tell Jazz they have a sort of special bound more to get on her nerves than other…

“Good morning Orlando!” Carrie’s hoarse voice drags me back to reality.

“Ehy, love!” I grin, but shift uncomfortably to the very end of the bed, as if I didn’t want her to stroke me. Man! She’s really beautiful, but why do I feel a weird sense of unease now that I look at her?

Maude starts barking again, and I roll my eyes reaching out my hand out of the bed to her snout.

“Hello doggie dog!” Carrie chimes in provoking Maude’s louder barking. “Awww! Your dog doesn’t seem to like me Orli! That’s too bad!” she then sing songs, entwining her long legs with mine. I grin, shivering at the contact… it is not that bad, then, being stroked by her. I take her in my arms when Maude starts growling again, and this time it really seems she is targeting Carrie.

“Maude, freaky dog! Stop it, now!” I yell, and she stays quiet for a while, the time enough to let Carrie kiss me with lascivious intensity, then there she goes again, yelping as if she was possessed. Carrie lets go a laughter.

“I think she doesn’t like me!” she tells me softly. “Is that a present from some old girlfriend of yours?” she asks lightly, and I don’t know why I am bothered by it.

I still remember the day I decided Maude should be my dog: she was a small pink soft puppy and she looked at me as if she begged me to pick her up. A friend of Jazz’s couldn’t keep all the puppies her dog had just bore so Jazz did her best to find a shelter for each and every doggy. She didn’t have to struggle much with me, because despite what people may think of me, I have a very soft heart, and I fell in love with Maude instinctively.

“No! No present from any girlfriend, Carrie!” I tell her trying not to sound irritated and avoiding to tell her the whole story. I have just met her, and the fact we slept together doesn’t allow her to find out all about my life.

“Oh Lord!” her eyes widen as they meet something past my shoulders; I turn and realize she’s looking at my clock. “It’s late!”

Late? It is 6am. If that what she calls late!

“I must really leave, now, Orlando! I have my usual ten kilometers to run and then a busy morning to go through!” she informs me, leaving my bed as if a bunch of bees abruptly invaded it. “That way for the bathroom, right?”

I keep on staring at the phone, playing with Maude’s leash.

Carrie left half an hour ago, and in a way I was relieved. I don’t like having strangers in my flat, especially women who try to act a if they already are mistresses of your own place. Even if they are breathtaking as Carrie. I like her physically, I can’t deny it, but don’t feel like getting to know her better, you know? That’s my usual wanker attitude, as Jazz would describe it. I think I’ll call her, now. She’s surely out with Elijah at the moment!

I twitch my mouth in a grin as I think of the fact that she’ll surely get mad at me for calling her in such a moment! Who knows what they are doing. I still can’t understand what it is Elijah finds so attractive in Jazz… I first try at her home phone number, but the call is picked up by her answering machine. They must be already out.

Jazz picks up the call right away and she speaks in a hushed tone: where the hell are they?

"Why in the name of arse are you speaking in such a low tone, Jazz?" I ask her with the clear intention of getting on her nerves. I love it when she gets angry at my jokes.

“You bloody wanker!” Right! Exactly what I was waiting for.

"I missed you too sweetheart!" I say, bursting out in a laughter. "Where are you Jazz?" There are odd noises in the background: I wonder what Elwood has invented to catch her attention.

"Why you ask Orlando?" her tone’s suspicious and I feel that if I keep on talking to her like this she’ll burst out saying something silly and hilarious…

"I've just called you home and that silly answering machine of yours said you were not in!" This will do.

"Is it illegal to go out at night?" Yes! She’s getting angry!

"Well... I guess it is not... but where the hell are you?"

"I don't think this is your business Orlando Bloom!" she remarks, raising her voice.

"Uhmm... Okay! I'll guess then!" I keep on using a very calm and controlled tone, while considering the fact that after all I do miss her. Very much.

“Why didn't you call before, friend?" she asks sweetly, and weirdly her tone hurts me.

"Had tons of things to go through! I asked Elijah to tell you I am okay! Did he do it?" I answer as if I didn’t give a damn about the fact they are going out.

"We-ell.... "

"And by the way. I know you are out with him now!" I cut her off. "Don't play innocent with me!" I warn her. Why the hell doesn’t she tell me that she’s with him? Is that something to hide to me?

"I am!" She states in that childish tone of her, the one I know by heart now and that she gets when she tries to get something from me.

"You are" I repeat trying to use a girlish voice and mocking at her "You seem so silly, Jazz!" I don’t really understand why, but all of a sudden I feel bothered by this situation, and get this urge to offend her.

"Orlando; would you please stop it?" She sounds annoyed now and I I’ll make her understand I am as well.

"Jazz: I warn you! Elijah has a girlfriend! You'd better watch what you do, dear!" She must remember it, or she’ll get burnt.

"I know Orlando" she groans, as if she didn't care. "…perfectly!"

"I'd bet you have forgotten, Jazz! I know Elijah, Jazz..." God only knows how much I do. She’d better listen to me, instead of acting all bothered by my wise advice.

"Orlando would please shut the fuck up?" she yells.

Bingo! I knew she would collapse. I know how to make her burst.

"Orlando, dear! Would you wait just for one second?" she suddenly changes the tone of her voice, trying to sound accomplished and kind. I smile. Someone must have shown up as she was cursing at me. I can picture her, smiling sheepishly and putting on a silly, but adorable, face.

Yes! I miss her, badly.

"Are ya there?" she asks in a sheepish tone.

"I am still here, Jazz!" I tell her in an amused tone. "Still problems in remembering strangers' names?" I chuckle, commenting the umpteenth time where she has called someone with a wrong name. Typical Jazzish. She has this difficulty in recalling strangers’ names, but to my eyes it makes her so human.

"As usual!" she groans.

"May I know, Jasmine, where the hell are you? I know you are out with Elijah.. would you really mind telling me what the hell you two are up to?"

She finally surrenders and tells me briefly about our evening. Eheheh! She knows that there's no way to win me over!

"...and don't you dare laughing at me Orlando Bloom! I am still angry with you, and this may aggravate your position!" she says, uselessly as I find it hard to hold my giggles.

"If I wasn't on the phone with you, I would avoid swearing like blazes!" she comments as I start laughing really hard!

"Jazz! You don't need to be on the phone with me to swear! You always swear like blazes!" I remark in a cracked voice, rubbing the angles of my eyes, as I try to stifle my giggles.

"Not always!" she raises her voice, annoyed, and offended. "Orlando! Only when I get particularly nervous" she adds lowering her tone."and you seem to particularly enjoy yourself when it comes to that!"

Ah! Busted! She knows I did it all on purpose, only to have some fun with her.

"Okay Jazz! You are right then... you are right!" I sort of give up, but only to make her shut up.

"Jazz..." I feel like I need to remind her to be careful with Elijah. I don’t want her to get hurt. I care for her too much.

"Yes? "

"Remind what I've just told you about Elijah! Try to stay away from troubles! If you can!"

6


If I ever come to life again, I hope someone will definitely punch me until I lose my senses if I try to only state that a girl can be a man’s best friend.
Because that is something that only a naïf dumbass like me can conceive, even when everything I’ve believed in for ages crumbles mercilessly under my eyes, and I can’t understand why.

Okay. It might be also my fault, but honestly! Jazz seems insane and I am not able to fucking understand why. I swear, I am sure I did not have to introduce her to Elijah, upon my word! That must be his darn fucking fault, spoilt movie star! And in a way, that bugs me royally.

She was my friend, she used to care about me, laugh with me, lean on me! And then I introduce her to Mr. Blue Eyes and she goes nuts! She starts acting weirdly, she treats me like rubbish and is not able anymore to talk to me without being edgy and nervous. I know I am doing my best to hit her nerves every time I have a chance to, but I am bugged by the whole situation.
Extremely bothered and disturbed.
Well! I'm pissed off, to be honest!

She has always been different from any other girl I have met in my life, I consider her a very special person, very down to earth and not too much involved in all that crap girls usually worry about, such as always being perfect and good looking, or fashion style, or boys… I mean! The times she had a crush or fell for someone she didn’t act all nifty and silly like lasses usually do! She was herself, plain and simple, and this is a quality I definitely love in girls. Too bad you don’t find it too often.

I have always liked her because she is as she appears, she’s real and you don’t have to always be on the lookout about what you do or say. I never had to worry about being witty or extra smart, or brilliant, because she has always made me feel at ease, appreciated for what I really am, even if she never told me openly.

But now! It is as if somebody replaced her with one of those squealing senseless girls who seem unable to make the gears of their brains work, when standing near a cute guy. I am confused and puzzled by her irrational behaviour. And bothered because she is unable to interact with me anymore, as if I had something to do with all that is happening to her now!

I missed her more than ever during my stay in London, even if when busy with work or when I hanged out with Carrie, she was always in the back of my mind, a consciously present thought I kept on going back to, as if my whole life depended on it.

Fuck.

I try to cling to the few certainties that seem left in my life after I have become Orlando Bloom the actor, and Jazz was among the basic ones, and what happens? Everything becomes blurry and distorted. I don’t understand her and even myself. I mean! I should be happy if she finds somebody who appreciates her like I do, who could love her, respect her and defend her from the harshness of life, should I not?
Why then am I so worried by the fact that this person could be Elijah?

Shit.

I am more than worried. I am really disturbed by the mere thought. Elijah’s not the kind of guy who can help Jazz, who can make her be carefree, and happy, and silly… protected from her own weaknesses… he’ll never get to know her like I do. But this, I guess, is something that every guy will have to face. I have known her for too many years, I’ll always be advantaged compared to any other guy on this earth.

I wish we could only have some time for us to talk, like we used to when we were in UK, like we haven’t since I have come back to Los Angeles. I wonder if that’s one of the prices I have to pay for my success, and if I am really willing to accept the fact that I could lose touch with her.

No, I’d definitely do whatever not to lose her. She’s a sort of institution… there are few considerable persons I am sure will always be part of my life.
My mother, my sister, Colin… and Jazz.
Nothing has to come between the two of us. I’d struggle against anyone or anything to let her keep that special spot in my existence she has had since the very beginning of our friendship… I’d even go against my own interests for her.
Her constant presence is priceless... her warm laughter, the way she addresses me... she's precious to me. Beyond price. My former girlfriends have always complained about the fact I was always clinging to her, or speaking of her, or involving her every time I could, but none of them has ever understood what special bound I share with her.
She was there every time I felt sick, cooking her improbable chicken soup only for me, and it didn’t matter it was so uneatable that even Maude would refuse to eat it! She used to show up hurriedly in hospitals everytime my clumsy self would finish there for my several accidents.
She was beside me when I achieved something substantial, and especially when life defeated me…
Have you ever heard that song of Robbie Williams, what’s the title? Ah! She’s the one! That must be it! When I hear that song aired on the radio I always think of her… of us. I can’t afford the luxury of waking up one fine day and face my life without her friendship.

I’d better talk to Elijah as well, and find out what’s on his mind… if I ever understand he’s cheating on her… I am not an aggressive guy, but ehy! I know how to kick some wanker’s ass! He knows my easygoing side… it’d be better for him not to provoke me… I am not getting all territorial, I know… it's not that i am sentimentally attracted by her... I was taught to protect the persons I care for, and no! It’s not like my sister Samantha always states bluntly… I do not have any sentimental involvement with Jazz. She’s beyond that! She’s more than this… she’s a sort of elective affinity, a soul mate without all that romantic crap which ruins relationships between a man and a woman.

It's not about that... I am sure. I know myself. I only want her to be happy... and probably Elijah won't ever be able to... just like Nigel.
I know what she needs, and I'll make sure she gets what she deserves from her life.

7

I’ll be able to talk to Jazz and Elijah tonight, I am sure.
Dom has organized one of his crazy parties at the White Lounge, a cool place, quite à la page, where usually paparazzis don’t show up. This is something I really appreciate, as for me it is getting more and more difficult to walk in the streets and pass by unrecognized. The good old anonymous times have come to an end, hysteria tends to follow me, and when I can avoid it, I am pretty relieved, although I love interacting with my fans, sometimes it can get pretty scary, and intruding. Fiona states I must get used to it, because it will grow in importance and dimensions, the further I become famous!
Orlando! You wanted it! You keep it! Eh!

When I informed Jazz I couldn’t go to her home to pick her up she didn’t sound much worried about it, I thought we could talk a while of the situation, given the fact that Elijah will attend the party we all are going to tonight, and maybe I could give her some advice.
But the omnipresent Fiona – Lord! She’s becoming a sort of second mother… a mother in business, if I can call her thus! - decided she needed to torture me with her strategy for the next month and blocked me in her office for four hours.
God only knows how much I wanted being here in Los Angeles and conquering Hollywood lure, but man! The price I am paying, sometimes, is so high. I hardly have a life anymore, I hardly recognize myself in the guy smiling from teen magazines covers… that’s why Jazz is so important to me. She always reminds me of whom I really am, of what I used to be and must cling to. I wonder, sometimes, if she is aware of that.

I enter the White Lounge hurriedly, hoping the mob won’t realize who I am, and search avidly for my friends. Ah! There they are! Comfortably sitting around a table… I see new faces, some friends of Dom for sure, but where is Jazz? Melissa and Donna are here… she must not be far away, probably stuck to Elijah!

“Ehy mate! You finally made it!” Dom stands up and reaches out his hand for mine, in that usual funny way he has of greeting me, slapping my hand and then attracting me to him, to finally pat on my shoulder energetically.

“Ehy, Dom! Hi guys!” I smile, eyes still roaming to spot Jazz, when I finally see her. Elijah is at her side, could it be otherwise?

She is breathlessly stunning tonight. I am amazed by the way she looks tonight… I mean, she’s beaming of a dazzling light, I don’t think I have ever seen her looking so attractively… woman! Yeah! That’s it! She’s sexy…
wait, wait Orlando! She’s a woman after all, is she not? And you are way too much used to see her acting like a sort of tomboy without grace…

I raise my hand to greet her, smiling warmly, and she smiles back at me. Lord, she is touchingly adorable tonight! And all this to honour Mr. Blue Eyes! Look at the way he wraps his arm around her waist! Was there really need to show me how much in confidence they are? I still don’t think they are made the one for the other!

"Hi Bloomie!" she welcomes me warmly, big smile spread on her face. She looks happy to see me, and although I would really like to hold her, I can’t push away this sense of bother that the image of her and Elijah together causes me. I glare at her coldly, an eyebrow raised.

"Hi Jazz!" I can only say that, coldly, dryly. I turn immediately to greet the others.

I know! I am a wanker. She’d have all the reasons in the world to think so, but I can’t help it! She’s trusting Elijah too much, for my own thought. He has just come out of a relationship with a girl he stated was the world to him… how can you trust a guy like that? I mean! He can easily let you behind for any other girl, like he did with Anne! This is really stupid from her part! And the thing that disturbs me more, is that Jazz is all but stupid.

"You finally made it!" Elijah shouts happily, patting repeatedly on my shoulders… take it easy, dude! I injured my back years ago. If you go on like that you’ll have me go back in phisio-therapy.

"Yeah!" I answer warmly. "I was near to strangle my agent!" I add, grinning. "Man! I feel really thankful she's so organized and all! But, holy shite! She never understands when I need a break, or when I am busy with my private life!" Weirdly, I can act all normal with Elijah… but sure! I haven’t known him for years, and I am sure I can kick his spoilt ass any time!

"I think I could kill Nicole!" Elijah says in return, referring to his own agent. "But I've come to this deep belief..."

"What?" Dom cuts us with an idle look.

"That agents do not have a private life! That's the reason why they never understand that you'd like to catch up with yours, once in a blue moon!" We let go a sounding laughter, and I throw a quick look at Jazz.

She looks surprised, her cheeks of a deep pink, her eyebrows knitted, as if something was bothering her. Oh, probably it’s the fact that Elijah is not minding her much at the moment… but Lord! She’s so charming! Her usual air of energy lingering around her, her cheekbones highlighted by the way she made up her face, her long raven eyelashes closing and opening over her big dark eyes… she has something exotical in her look tonight, something I can’t define correctly, but that takes my breath away every time I glance at her. She now leaves us to talk to Melissa: sure! That useless girlish chit chat! She’ll have to exchange opinions on what has just happened when she was away with Elijah! I can’t really understand how Jazz can lower to that! She has never done anything of that sort so far! How can you get so stupid?

I turn and start talking with the guys, it is not my business after all, I she wants to act like any other silly chick that populates this earth. I don’t think I’ll be able to talk to her… and I don’t know if I really still want to; would it be useful? If she believes Elijah’s what she needs, who am I to make her change her mind? And by the way they interact I suspect there might have been something substantial…

"So I hear you had a busy afternoon!" her voice makes me startle, and a weird sensation spreads inside, as I find her once again in front of me. She is smirking, rubbing the palms of her hands the one against the other. Umph! She’s embarrassed! Cool! She knows she’s not doing the right thing, and, most important, she might have understood I do not approve.

"Yeah, pretty busy!" I inform her, trying to smile warmly, throwing a quick glance at her outfit. "You look nice!" I utter, trying to sound casual, but ending up to be almost laconic. Darn, Orlando! You are being quite the jerk with her, tonight. Are you not? Better leave her alone for a while!"I think I'll go get a drink!" I eventually announce, suddenly bolting off towards the bar.

I am sorry, but I really couldn’t help. I am annoyed, bothered, displeased, irritated… wow! My mom would be really proud of myself! Look at the synonyms I have come up with…

I technically know I don’t have a real reason why to be so hateful to Jazz, but I feel like I can’t help it! She’s getting it all wrong and she’ll end up suffering… and I’ll have to put the pieces of her heart together, once again, like it was after Nigel.

I look at her as she heads for the rest rooms with Donna, and I can’t help to curl my lips in a smile… she’s really beautiful, my Jazz, tonight… she catches the attention of a great part of the men present here… she’d fit a fashion magazine cover… I must remember to remind her this detail next time I see her in a sweat suit… not that I really mind about what she wears, but, ehy! She does something to me dressed up like that.

Remarkably pretty…

wait, wait, Bloom! Stop looking at her like that! That one is Jazz. Jasmine Timbers… the one who threw up on your brand new jeans the first time she drank some alcohol… the one who used to address you as “the weirdest dumbass who ever walked over this earth”! The one who usually states that she’d go and close herself into a nunnery rather than having sex with you…

Why are you lingering your stare over her, then? Why this bothering whirling of feelings?

8

One of the first things I learnt in life is that it means choosing.
We are constantly facing choices, since the very moment we become aware of who we are as individuals.

Once you start discerning good from bad and you stand up to defend your own decisions, there you begin giving priorities and opting for this or that alternative.

So you choose.
Dresses, food, music, colors, movies, school, books, paths to follow, lovers.
And friends.

You rarely ask yourself if you were right or wrong, unless your choice brings with itself disgrace and wretchedness. If you are stubborn and proud, then, you assume you are never wrong, and any of the choices you take are right.
If you are lucky, you only have to make up your mind about which one of only two alternatives will be really suitable for you. If you are less lucky, you have to analyze multiple selections, and perhaps blindly leave your life in fate’s hands.

In twenty-six years I have chosen among several picks.
Privately and professionally, sometimes with discernment, some others just subsiding to fate.

With Jazz it has all always been a otally different story.
The fact that Jazz is to be considered my best friend was one of the most reasoned and in a way suffered choices I, Orlando Bloom, had to cope with.
But I have chosen. I have spoken my mind with my own self. Officially. Seriously. In a deep commiment with myself.

She is my friend.

A choice is a choice, let’s be serious!

You can’t simply decide you want to deny it only because this is the most comfortable solution in a certain moment of your life.
It’s not like you are in a warm room (the choice you have made) and suddenly it gets damn cold and you decide to leave that room immediately, and maybe even slamming the door!

That’s not the way it works!

A choice is a goal you work bloody hard to achieve. It doesn’t happen always by chance. Jazz and I are friends, best friends, not because destiny decided so. We worked hard to be what we are now, damn hard not to lose contact with each other and care so much the one for the other.

A choice is something you think of for so damn long, listing all alternatives, taking off that list the solutions which you think will only mean granted failures.

Yeah! That’s it.
Containing the damages caused by a failure.
That’s the reason why people, differently from beasts, have the faculty of choosing.

Jazz is an awesome person, the most wonderful of friends, she’s simply terrific. When I am with her I feel like home.
Who would be so fool to burn their own house only to warm up their hands with the heat of a fire that, sooner or later, will turn into orange glowing embers and die in gray ashes?

Women? I had so many of them! Perhaps more than what I had imagined when I was only a teenager. Perhaps I had and left more than what I deserved, and I want to keep on believing it’ll always be so. Even today. Even tomorrow.

Even here, tonight.
I see how women look at me, I know those glances by heart now. Some of them straight into my eyes, some others sideways, while trying to follow the boring conversation of a faceless and perhaps too neutral partner. Only returning their glances with one of my killer looks would be enough. Even smiling a half smile would give me the privilege of sharing an exciting, or maybe tedious, night with whomever I’d choose. A night, or a week. Does it really matters?

But Jazz is my best mate. That’s it. That was set long ago. Nothing to go back to. Full stop. Finito. Kaputt.

Even if tonight she’s breathlessly stunning, her smile lighting up her eyes. Her full lips hinting of tasty and juicy strawberries… the red smelling fruits that in warm spring afternoon wrap your head up with their scent, and making you feel entranced, drugged...

It must be a bloody nostalgic tendency I am suffering of tonight. And, bloody hell! I haven’t drunk so much, not yet, at least. A couple of drinks never affected me this way. Never made me feel... jealous of Jazz?

Naaah!
I might be getting older, perhaps. A tad bit older, and like all the goddamit old people I suffer from instant moments of melancholy.

I am not jealous of her. I am not attracted by her, that way!

It’s gonna pass. I am only thinking too much. And probably suffering from the surprise of finally seeing her dressed up like a real woman, curvy and desirable, pretty and gracious, smiling and blossoming...

After all, I don’t give a damn if the other men in this fucking place can’t take their eyes off her. I don’t give a fucking damn if Elijah keeps on staying plastered to her hips as if somebody had glued him to her.
I don’t give a fucking damn if even Viggo couldn’t help telling me that she is gorgeous.

She is my friend. That’s what counts, isn’t it? Friendship is sacred.

And who knows! Tomorrow, she’ll probably tell me about the ways guys flirted with her, in that usual funny and sarcastic way that only my Jazz has, and we’ll laugh of it. Yeah! We'll have big fat laughs at their backs.

Yes! It’ll be so, for sure! I could bet on it. That’s just a fucking moment, and I shouldn’t be too much worried about it. I could maybe start flirting with one of Dom’s nice friends here, instead of keeping on controlling Jazz’s movements from the distance.

By the way… where the hell has she gone now? Lord! Sometimes I feel like I am her father. I quickly scan the dance floor and… there she is! Dancing with that sort of half evolved ape. Man! He’s so ugly, and gross. I wonder why she has that macabre taste when it comes to men.
What the hell? Hey! Stay away from Jazz! You dumbass! I can’t believe she is allowing him to come so closer.

I step quickly around the dance floor to better get an idea of what is happening between the two of them, and feel honestly relieved when I see he stepping away from her. Okay! My turn to talk some sense to that empty head of hers!

“"You'd better watch what you're doing!" I whisper in her ear, trying to appear easy, but at the same time seriously concerned. As usual, wise Orlando has to take care of the whole matter. I wonder where she would be without me.

"You mean I'm not dancing properly?" she sets her Bambi eyes into mine, a mischievous glint flashing them, and this hits a nerve, weirdly.

"You know what and who I'm referring to, Jazz!" I warn her using my "Legolas watching in the distance" look and voice.
Hey! Sometimes it’s useful being an actor. You know how you have to say things to captivate people’s attention.

"Sod off!" she mouths dumbly, instead, not at all affected by what I have just said, half grin on her face, surprising me quite a lot. "I'm just having fun, Orlando! Don't act as if you were my dad!" she then calls out, and after tossing a glance full of hate in my direction, turns on her heels and leaves me with my own company, heading for the bar.

Umph! Stubborn chick! But I know you’ll seek for my help! You always do.
I follow her with my eyes, checking out she doesn’t put herself into some odd kind of troubles, and there she goes! Talking with that arsehole! By the way she looks at him I realize she’s not happy to be bothered by him, I believe I’d better step closer. What did I tell you? She’s going to need my help really soon.

"Listen Craig!" I succeed in listening to a bit of their conversation, and Jazz’s really annoyed. She almost snorts, trying to avoid any contact with him. "I think I gotta go now!" she yells and suddenly stands up.

Yeah! Good choice Jazz: he's pissed. Step away, girl! I wonder why she has to always find herself among troubles.
Now! Time to play my part!
Rescuer first take. Ciak!

"C'mon babe!" he shouts grabbing her by the wrist, and at this I can’t be quiet anymore. I hate that, but I must do something.

"Haven't you heard what she has just said?"

Yep, good tone man! That reminds me of Legolas in the Council of Elrond.
Frown Orlando, frown! Give him an intense, seriously scary look.

"Let her go!"

"I think that this is none of your fucking business, you prick!" The ape shouts back, always holding Jazz’s wrist .

"Let her go!" I sort of spell my words. I am getting seriously pissed off, at the ape and also at Jazz. He lets her go, but only to take a swing at me. I duck quickly, registering the fact that I am actually starting a brawl. The last thing my agent would love me to do. I do hope there’re no fucking paparazzis around. The wanker gets frantically crazier and now punches me once again, hitting my jaw this time.

Ouch, man! That hurts. My head spins, but I am the good one here, not you fucking weirdo. I take a hard swing back at him, hitting him right in his stomach. Head still spinning I only realize that Viggo and Dom, and soon the security are around us, parting us, and the fact that now I am forced to leave the place because of this all, makes me feel horribly disappointed.

Fucking hell! I am pissed off. I am totally pissed off. And I only have to thank my friend, for flirting with such an idiot and dragging me in all this. What did I say about choosing and destiny?

She quickly appears in the street, a totally lost and scared air painted on her face… she’s beautiful, my girl… and she was flirting with that pissed asshole, dimwit, dumbass…
I think I could slap her for that.

"Orlando... I am so damn sorry!" she says sheepishly.

I don't say a word, just look at her, seriously, while wiping the blood from my cheek. She’s dangerously attractive. Charming and that worried expression stirs something inside of me.

"I couldn't imagine..." but her voice bugs me. What does she mean with that? She ennerves me. She never makes it right.

"Listen, Jazz!" I say curtly. "Don't want to talk about it at the moment! Let me take you home now!" I add, clenching then my jaws and striding towards the parking lot, where my car is patiently waiting for us.

I open it and sit quickly at the driver’s side, without even helping her with opening her door and waiting for her to sit on the passenger’s side.

9

I don’t think I have ever been so pissed off at Jazz.
Well, probably one or two times so far, but those are all things I have forgotten of, nothing really serious. Nothing of the same proportions as tonight.
Nothing involving so many different and contrasting feelings, at the least..
I believe this is the very first time I can’t even feel like looking at her for fear of bursting out into a sequel of raging rants… or probably the idea of coping with her breathtaking looks tonight. I don’t know, it might be a fatal mixture, but I feel both mad at her and attracted by her. I can’t wait for arriving at her place and leaving her there, safe and away from bad intentioned apes.

I can feel her stare fixed on my face, but I keep looking ahead at the road, silently and trying to get focused on avoiding her eyes. I don’t know what it is I have. I must have developed a sort of weird disease, I must be sick if I can’t get rid of this odd desire I’ve been trying to repress all night long.
Bloody hell! This is Jazz we are talking about! How can I even consider the idea of desiring her! I must be sick! Or completely pissed!

My mobile starts ringing, I pick the call up and bark a sort of answer.

“Hey mate! Still alive? Or dead?” Ah! It’s Dom! “Is Jazz okay?”

“Nah!... I'm okay! And she's okay as well!" I mutter with a grimace.

“Man! I haven’t ever seen you fight for real, I mean! That was a fucking pissed idiot, lemme tell ya man! The security said this wasn’t the first time he bothered the fuck up…”

"Yeah! It was just a fucking pissed weirdo! Yes! It may happen, I know Dom... but it is Jazz we are talking 'bout..." I inform him, unable to hide the fact that I believe it was also Jazz’s fault, as usual! It looks like she can’t keep herself away from troubles, and that I always have to go to her rescue. Dom asks me whether I am taking her home or not, I confirm it and then cut the call briskly. I am not exactly in the mood for chatting at the moment.

I must be completely nuts. Seeing her dealing with that sort of hyper hormones gleaming ape shook me deeply: Jazz is my little girl, in a way… I mean! She is my friend… She’s mine, she has to…
what? Oh Lord! That’s the end of my sane days! What the hell is twirling through my psycho brain? And what the fuck…? Star Wars ringtone? She must have totally lost it for Elijah if he convinced her to like that movie. I can’t really understand what it is she finds in Elijah… he is younger than she, what sort of securities can he grant her? I know I’d better ask her and talk to her openly, like we used to for years, but it looks like I am not able anymore. And God only knows how much I’d wish to.

And this goddammit jaw hurt so terribly. He swung a good punch, I can’t deny that! My agent will surely jump up and down in happiness as soon as she sees my face reduced like that… ah! Finally she’ll have something to complain for, she tends to preach for anything! This time I am serving her a good excuse indeed.
Jazz keeps staring at me and I am starting to feel cold, what the hell… ah! Sure! She has totally opened her window.

“Jazz!” I thunder, without even looking at her.

“Yes Orlando!” her tone’s sweet and this can only hit on my nerves, once again.

"Would you close your window, Jazz?" I order, rather than asks for. "It's getting fucking cold in here!" I grumble, clenching and unclenching my jaws.

"Uh!... Yeah!... Sorry!" she babbles back, obeying sheepishly.
Now I feel guilty, but it was stronger than I. It’s easier to treat her in an aloof way, it helps me keeping my instincts under control. It keeps me safe from her sudden charms.
I only have to take her home, kiss her goodbye as usual, drive to my place, slip in my comfortable bed and sleep till the new day comes. Tomorrow, when I wake up, this sort of spell I feel caught into will be vanished, I’ll be the usual Orlando and she’ll be the same Jazz I’ve known for ages. It’s just the alcohol… isn’t it?

I slow down the car and pull it up to the curb. Pheeew! Orli! You’ve made it! Here we are… it was easy, wasn’t it?
She takes a deep sigh.

"I'd be extremely grateful if you could enter and stop a while and let me help you with this!" she whispers sweetly, touching lightly my fresh bruise with her finger. I shiver at her touch, unexpectedly.
I turn abruptly and look at her grimacing.

"There's no need to..." I inform her seriously, grabbing her hand and pulling it away from my face. "I'll take care of it once I get home! It's absolutely nothing, compared to what I've been through in the past! Thanks" I add coldly, trying to control the sudden thumping of my heart. I don’t really know what I have, but I feel all emotional. Her widened eyes are gleaming and I fell completely attracted to her.

"Please Orlando!" She insists. "I feel so guilty! Let me do something for you!" I take a heavy sigh, crossing again her begging eyes. I can’t resist any longer. I don’t want to leave her now. I want to remain beside her, enjoy of her company, looking at her beautiful face, inhaling her scent…

"Okay!" I eventually consent, turning off the engine.

"My home's a mess!" She states simply as we enter her place, throwing her bag on the couch.
As usual. I can’t help thinking, but a familiar mess. Something that makes her a human.

"As usual!" she goes on, chuckling nervously, throwing a quick glance at me as if she were trying to read my mind. I rub my neck with a hand, blinking slowly, enjoying the familiar image of her taking off her shoes and kicking them under the couch.

"Sit down!" she invites me and I watch her disappear in the hallway.

Stop it, stop it Orlando! Why do you find so hard to recognizing in that adorable, pretty, elegant, breathtaking, attractive, charming lass your friend Jazz? The same tomboy that keeps you grounded? You are not a kid anymore. You aren’t the Orlando who had a crush on her anymore. Years have passed, you have followed different paths and remained so attached only because of your rooted friendship. Don’t mess everything up with something you might regret tomorrow! Use your brain! I stand up and follow her to the kitchen and she startles when she realizes I am behind her. I pass my hand through my air to look busy. Duh! Impressive of you. Really!
You are a jerk!

"Does it hurt?" She asks, her eyes fixed in mine. I like what I see in them, they are bright and deep, open doors to her liveliness and generosity, her beautiful soul. I smile as I realize I want to kiss her.

"Sure it hurts!" I whisper keeping her stare as she passes some disinfectant on my bruise. I wince as I kick away the idea of kissing her. I am really sick if I feel attracted by her full pink lips… they look so soft and are so inviting.

"I don't think I need the ice!" I am a man. I am strong. I won worst battles. Tomorrow I’ll surely have forgotten all this weird feeling for her. She flares her nostrils and grits her teeth, and I can’t help noticing she looks more charming.
Uh-oh! Someone is getting upset I am afraid.

"Oh bollocks, Orlando!" She almost shouts in frustration, and I startle. "Talk to me! Shout at me! Curse at me, if that makes you feel better! But fucking say something! I can't stand this silence any longer! If you have to reproach me for something, do it! For Christ's sake! Anything would be better than dealing with your dumbfounded twin!"

The way her cheecks flush suddenly give to her pale features an appealingly inviting air: the fire I know by heart has appeared in her eyes and I feel weak, harmless now in front of her, because I can’t help denying to myself now, that I want her, that even if I know this will ruin years of perfect relationship, I lust her. I want the woman in her,

I… I must completely fucked up if I can’t resist such low animal instincts. I can have whomever I choose, I don’t need to screw up my bound with Jazz. I look at her intensely, clenching my jaws in the attempt of regain composure and not to subside to what my body is yelling at me, and for a while it looks like she can’t keep my stare, as if she were afraid of what she reads in my eyes.

I am an actor, for Christ’s sake! I can’t let her understand what is passing through my mind now, I can’t let her perceive what is shaking my body at the moment.

"I am freaking fed up, Jazz, with the way you keep on living your life!" I call out in a controlled tone. She blinks, evidently surprised by the twist I am going to give to our conversation. I am flabbergasted as well, in a way, but everything to allow me to go back in control of my emotions.

"Holy Jesus! You are twenty-five! Will you ever learn to live your life as an adult?" I start pacing back and forth her living room. I can’t stand her stare, I have to avoid in any way to cross her eyes and look at her beautiful face for more than a minute. She is too invitingly enchanting, so sweet, the colour of her cheeks recalling the one of a blooming bud. "You seem to never get it right!" I go on in a more excited tone. "What were you thinking about inside that damn club?" And then, here I go again! Back to the point that hurts me the most. Back to what I don’t seem to get over. She seems to prefer whomever to me. I still can’t understand what she finds in Elijah, but at least, there’s no way I could deny this, he is a very clever guy. Maybe too spoilt, but smart nonetheless! But that Craig! Oh my Lord! This goes beyond my dumb understanding.

She looks at me, eyes wide open, swallowing as if she were taking up time to understand what is going on exactly.

"I... aemmm... maybe can't get your point!" She whispers with a puzzled expression, but trying to keep her poise.

My point is that I am struggling against myself and the bloody alcohol which is running through my veins and preventing me to think straight. The point is that I desire you and you don’t understand it. As you didn’t understand I fancied you when I did, turning your back at me for aloof and wizened Nigel.

“You never seem to get the fucking point Jazz!"

“I am getting fucking tired now Orlando! I was only having some fun! Had I imagined he was the freaking weirdo he turned out to be, I wouldn't have given him much confidence! I don't need to go digging very far in the past... we can simply talk about tonight!"

Oh yeah! Sure! Let’s dig in the dirt! Let’s have fun at my back! Let the curtain fall…

"Tonight what?" My eyes narrow as I linger my angry stare on her face.

"I am your friend! I've been part of your life for how many years so far?" she calls out, flustered.

Ten years, five months and twenty-four days.

"Can't recall!" I answers curtly, attempting to let her understand I am maybe fighting the huge struggle ever.

"For damn too long, you prick! And you simple ignore me for any blonde new acquaintance of yours! You always leave me behind for any fucking blonde curvy bimbo! And then the only thing you are capable to do is to come around and lecture! Don't do this, don't do that! I am fucking tired!” She shouts pointing her finger at my chest "Tired of you! Your Carries... Jessicas... Kates...your Lauries..."

Yeah! Sure! You’ll never understand why, won’t you?
You’ve never asked yourself why I have always messed my life up with girls who were physically your opposite!
You’ve never asked yourself why I have always preferred spending my time with them… you’ve never asked yourself if it was just a way to run away from your ghost…
I think I hate you now, Jazz.

“You are pathetic!" I spit, hands on my hips, rage sparkling in my eyes. "Never thought of letting you behind! You are never behind!" I then add rubbing my eyebrows with a finger, trying to ponder each word I am going to tell her now. I have always tried to maintain her friendship, even if I have always known, unconsciously, that she was my ideal mate, my ideal soul mate. But love, sex, they can spoil it all. The level I kept our relationship at granted us to be together for ten long years, side by side, always united against what life had in store for us. And the fact that we are still here proves me I was right.

Everything flew the way I imagined, until I introduced Elijah to her. It hurt, more than it hurt when she fell in love with Nigel, hurt and bugged me in a sort of bothering crescendo till this very night, when I have to capitulate to what both my heart and soul are yelling to my dumb brain. But I have fought hard to protect our bound. Will I be strong enough? Will I succeed in remaining distant even now that every fiber of my body cries to caress hers?

"I might be pathetic, but you are only a wanker who cares only about himself! You haven't even realized that..."

"What?" I step closer to her. "What?" I shout, unable to hide a hint of frustration in my tone while I can’t help grabbing her wrists. I think I am losing the battle against myself. "What haven't I realized yet?" I mutter lowly, as a shiver runs up and down my spine. Our bodies are so close I can perceive the warmness of hers.

"Let me go! You're hurting me!" She moans. I can’t take my eyes off her face. They wander freely from hers down to her lips, in a sort of rapture. I am aching for my best friend and this hurts. My major defeat. Will I ever survive to that?

"I could say the same fucking damn thing about you Jazz! Honestly!" I whisper deeply enchanted by the full form of her strawberry lips. "You haven't made the effort of scratching the glittering surface of my life lately!" Yes Orlando! Let’s attempt at the last desperate way to get out of this situation as if anything had happened. Do not notice she’s breathing heavily, do not notice the sparkles her eyes seem to display. Do not take in consideration the fact you are as hard as granite. "Since I left for New Zealand Jazz!" I let go in a hoarse grumble, she raises her face to catch my eyes again, and in the very moment I see my face reflected in them I know I have lost my battle. Everything has been magically erased.

I lower my head and my mouth descends over hers, I brush my lips over hers for just a moment, and I can’t refrain the need to taste her flavour: I thrust my tongue almost violently, frenzied by the smooth contact with hers and I am lost in her. Lost in the pleasing sensation which is generated by finally picking up the forbidden fruit, tasting the flavour I have longed for years, realizing she moans under my touch, finding out she’s not fighting it. Understanding she is becoming lost as well.
And it feels like paradise.

Love this so f@cking much.

As you probably know, I've memorised that chapter in LCOTS re-read that chapter and the feelings each of them were having were so :cry:
*sighs*
*mumblemumble*

I'm still rather sad to give a full-quotes reply for this though I didn't do so in EWFN...

WOW!

Those chapters were great!!

I really like them!!

:love:
Andie!

peiyu u not sad we all loved that chapter

yay np
does the np dance am i aloud to do that??/

Hurrah! The IAIMH is here!! *claps* I love this site, I love Orlando, I love your writing, Ursi! :love:

Hugs,
Varya

Dont we all??

:yes:

OMG....
chapter 9 is over....


which means:
chapter 10 is next!!!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!

and I am sure we all know what that means!!


jeez... urs, don't take too long okay hun? :surrender:

Agress with sophie dont take too long or we might all die from the supense.

please I promise to be really nice *wink*

Jeez silly me just started reading this before you stopped posting on *coughewfncough*

Can someone just hit me on the head or something
Jeeeeez....I can be so ignorant
:no:

demands a little for more :laugh:
(have no right to demand of course :lalala: ;)2 )

Dana we r not going to hit u on the head what is it with u and self harm?? Ohh by the way i got ure card today whats the name of the mouse?? and have u got my email??

whoa damn orli just went for it! good for him.

bring on chapter ten!!! :yay:

ahha Ursi I know I have yet to finish LCOTS (but I AM still working on it)

but I have read past this part and YAY he loves her..

ack men if they only weren't so stubborn..

loving it hun..

;),
Em

Hey Anneka
*hugs*

I :love: self harm
*grins*
That is what it is with me and self harm
ehehehe

*squeels*

I am so happy you got my card!!!
*hugs*
The mouse is called Diddle :laugh:
and yes I got your message.....I will send you a message back. Just haven't had much time to check and write emails!!!

ohhh thats ok least uve got it.

Diddle have to remeber that.

HELLO?? *echo* IS ANYBODY THERE?? *echo*
Hmm...guess not...

Andie xxx

Well i think everone has died from the suspense of waiting for ursi to post chappie 10

she's writing other stories :no: :cry:
is no good
hope she hasn't forgotten about this one

Ooops! Sorry girls! But I had taken the decision not to keep up this story long ago... I would have never been able to catch up with LCOTS. This is the reason why I introduced Orlando's pov in the fourth part of Last chance on the stairway.

I do hope you will all forgive me... but I have other stories up at the moment, which I am counting on finishing (crosses fingers).

I'll close this thread, hoping you will understand the reason why.

I love ya all

:love: