Phonecalls and Flashbacks.
"Oh, dear God, no..."
"I WILL kill him."
Roxie groaned as she reached for the phone, checking the clock as she rolled over.
OH MY GOD.
"Do you realize that its 3:17 IN THE MORNING here?!?"
"I know, Rox, but I -"
"Orlando. Call me in six hours. I'm going back to sleep."
"No! Roxie, wait -"
She placed the phone back on the reciever, rolled over, and shut her eyes.
She squeezed her eyes even tighter. He was NOT doing this to her. Finally, she grabbed the phone and balanced it on the side of her face.
"Orlando. Believe it or not, there is a time difference between England and New Zealand. And right now, people in London are trying to sleep. So...what the hell do you think you are doing?"
Silence. Some whispering. Then Orlando's voice.
"I - uh - well....I wasn't thinking, and everybody wanted to talk to you...I'll call back later..."
"Ok. Thank you."
Hanging up again, Roxie sighed. Orlando was a great guy...but he tended to overlook simple things like, say, the time. Oh well. She loved him anyways.
Roxie's family had moved to London from New Jersey when she was entering high school, and she hated them for it. They dragged her away from all of her friends, even to a different country! It was madness. She came to London completely bitter, determined to have a miserable first day of school to start her miserable English life.
And then there was Algebra.
She wad introduced to the class, which she couldn't belive they still did in high school, and was shown to a desk next to a boy with dark, curly hair. Refusing to make eye contact, she slumped down in her chair.
She glanced over. He was looking at her intently, a broad grin on his face. Sighing, she turned to him.
"Hi," she replied glumly, and turned back.
Oh my God. Was he seriously doing this? She rolled her eyes.
"Well HEY there, Orlando," she said sarcastically, while pretendig to focus on a problem that the teacher was working out on the board.
"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"
Why was he still talking to her? He obviously doesn't catch on too quickly to blatant rudeness.
"I said, 'Nope.' You speak english here, right?"
The boy was silent for a moment, and she grinned inwardly. Maybe he actually got the hint this time.
"So, you're American, then?"
OH MY GOD.
"YES, I'm American. And I LIKE America, and I would much rather be THERE than HERE. So if you don't mind, please stop talking to me."
For the rest of class, Orlando was slient. The bell rang, and Roxie bolted out of the class as fast as she could, finally leaning up against the end of a row of bright blue lockers. She dug a school map out of her bag and searched it for her next class.
"Need some help?"
She groaned and turned around, meeting the eyes of her newest British friend. Not.
"Look, Orlando. I appreciate that you're trying so hard to be friendly, but you don't need to. I'm a big girl. I can make it through high school without an escort, thank you."
Just as she thought he was going to walk away, he snatched her schedule right out of her unsuspecting hand.
"Hey! You little -"
"Oh, you have drama next. I'm in that class, too. Follow me."
"Well, isn't THAT conveniant..."
He started to walk, and she really had no choice but to follow him. She attempted to push through a group of boys with varsity jackets. Orlando had walked around them, but she wanted to vent her anger. Unfortunately, her plan was foiled when one grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the middle of the group.
"Hold up there, love. I don't believe we've met."
She glared at him. "Let's keep it that way."
"Oh-ho! A feisty one we have here, gents," he replied smoothly as he flashed her a smile. "Brice Jackson. Enchanté." He kissed her hand, and she jerked away. When he looked surprised, she smiled coyly.
"Well, Brice, let me just say that arrogant, obnoxious, overly-buff, pretty-boy jocks who thing they're God's gift to women aren't exactly my type. Nice try, though."
She attempted, in vain, to push through the laughing group once more.
"Not so fast, sunshine. I don't even know your name yet."
She whirled around to face him, mouth open for another sarcastic remark, when another voice answered for her.
"Just because one girl in this school has enough sense to call you on what an ass you are instead of being blindly infatuated doesn't mean you need to make her late for second period."
The varsity jackets laughed, and Brice stepped outside of the circle to fave Orlando.
"And what would you care, Bloom? Infatuated yourself, are you?"
Roxie used the distraction to her advantage and pushed her way out of the group, managing to join Orlando by his side. When Brice realized she was gone, he smiled again and faced her.
"Where you off too, love? Rather spend the day with the fag of the school than me?"
She paused for a moment, then smiled. "Of course, what on earth was I thinking?" she walked up to him, and stopped about a foot away. "Oh, I remember, THIS," and punched him square in the nose.
Before anyone could do anything, she turned on her heel and walked off with a hysterical Orlando, smiling herself.
"That was INCREDIBLE! No one here would have had the nerve to do that!"
She shrugged. "He desrved it. Bastard."
Orlando led them outside and across the lawn to the theater building for drama class. Realizing she hadn't introduced herself, she turned and held out her hand.
"Roxanna Berg, by the way. Roxie for short. Call me Roxanna and I'll beat you into the ground."
Orlando shook her hand. "I believe it. Well, I'm Orlando Bloom, friends call me Orly. But you can call me Orlando, its safe. And FYI, I'm not gay."
"Drama geek stereotype, I assume."
"I understand, I knew you weren't though, I'm a drama geek myself. Obviously. I know these things."
They both smiled, entering the theater. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all.
After that was history. They were soon the best of friends, inseperable through all of high school. They did all the school plays together, and Brice making fun of them once he'd been beat up by a girl enough times.
But soon enough, it was time for Roxie and Orly to go their seperate ways. Roxie left tearily for NYU, while Orlando stayed in London at a performing arts school. Being apart was torture for both of them, but they swore to keep in touch.
Four years later, Roxie was sitting in her small New York apartment, when she got an exciting phone call from her STILL best friend. She was the first one called when Orlando got his big break - Lord of the Rings. Enough said.
Six years after that, Roxie was completely out of work. She hadn't done a show in 2 years, and was trying to make ends meet with her minimun wage pay from the coffee shop down the street.
And she was failing miserably.
That's how she ended up in London again. Orlando heard about her situation and after insisting he pay her rent for as long as she needed - he decided that there was nothing keeping her in New York - that she should come live in his flat in London. She'd have no rent (no matter how many times she offered) and Orlando would help her find work.
She didn't really have much of an argument for that.
And now here she was - 3:22 in the morning, getting phone calls from her best friend, currently in New Zealand, reunited with the Lord of the Rings cast, who apparently wanted to catch up.
They were probably drunk.
Fairly certain it was safe, Roxie allowed herself to drift back to sleep, smiling slightly to herself.
He was definitely psychotic. And she loved it.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Hey! This is my first LOTR fic...and I know its an actor fic, but that seemed easiest. I have a movie fic on the way, keep your eyes out! Enjoy!