Chapter SixA/N: In this chapter, Allara briefly mentions a friend of hers named Aine. Pronounced AWN-ya. It’s Irish. Aine will come more into play in a later chapter.
When Allara awoke the next morning, it took her a minute to recognize her surroundings and remember where she was and why she was there. Groggily staring up at the blank white ceiling that met with blank white walls, she recalled the events of the night before. With a barely audible groan, she dragged her feet out from under the surprisingly warm and indubitably soft bedclothes. She gave a much more perceptible groan when she realized that she had slept in her clothes.
Bloody fucking actors, kidnapping vulnerable women who just want a lighter. Bastards, all of them. Shit…what time is it? Ha! Watch me have missed the only flight to Atlanta because I slept in. What the hell is that awful racket? Christ…someone’s trying to wake the dead. Why am I in the bed? Jesus, I kicked the poor son of a bitch out of his own bed.
She moved from the bedroom with astonishing grace for one who was trying to recover from the world of dreams. Her shoes had been placed near the by the bed; she ignored them as she passed through the spotlessly clean white doorway.
Someone needs a deeecoraaaatoooor! Yeesh, this place reminds me of a godamn hospital! So white, and clean, and sterile. The only thing that’s missing is the lingering smell of death covered by Lysol.
She was surprised to find herself thinking in a singsong tone, almost playfully. Poking her head out of the wide hallway, she glanced into the living room. There was no one there and she was beginning to think that she had merely strayed into a dream, for the lack of any intelligent life form in the house.
“Hello?” Her voice quavered, much to her own shock. The somewhat melodic tone of the word vibrated and echoed back to her off of the high walls. Gingerly, she tread on the living room floor, it was just as cold as the hardwood in the bedroom. Again, she surprised herself by sighing with relief when she heard a male voice answer her timid call.
“You’re awake then? I didn’t expect you to be up so early.” The disembodied voice was coming from around the corner, which was what she assumed was the kitchen. Allara looked around for a clock, but a wide array of boxes met her vision, blocking her from seeing the rest of the room.
‘Can’t see the forest for all the damn trees!’ I remember that! It was when Aine and I went to Yellowstone! Where the hell did she get that old saying from anyway? Neither of her parents ever used it…
Orlando turned the corner to find the mystery woman smiling to herself at some far off memory that he could only guess at. He found that he much preferred her when her full lips were curved up into a smile that was actually quite astonishing. The difference it made in her entire aura amazed him.
“I’m glad to see you awake and in a good mood!” He smiled jovially at her, but was disappointed to find her own smile replaced by a dark scowl and the girl he remembered from the night before quickly returned. She stalked across the room to him, her eyes searching all countertops and walls, for what he could only guess.
“Do you even have a phone yet? I need to check on an outgoing flight today.” Her tone was harsh and her gaze scathing, and for a moment, Orlando wondered if he had imagined the smile. Now, her face was one of disgust and she radiated contempt. Still, he was determined to make a semi-sociable person out of Allara Evans.
“Don’t worry about it. I already checked on your flight. There won’t be another one until next Wednesday.” It was Tuesday. Orlando was wondering whether he should be happy or fearful that she would be staying with him for that long. Happy, because it would give him a chance to try and get her to open up to him, and fearful because his only experience with her so far had been ones of physical pain and emotional distraught.
Fuck! What am I supposed to do now? This is just fucking great! Wait…
“Bloom, LAX is a huge airport, I find it hard to believe that the next flight to Hartsfield, another huge airport, is not for another week.” There! She almost felt triumphant…surely she had cowed him? But, why would he want her to stay anyway? Hadn’t she made it perfectly clear that she did not enjoy his company?
“Evans, you bought a ticket from a small airline. Unless you want to buy a new ticket, you’re going to have to fly back on that small airline, next week.” Orlando had matched his voice to her own, mimicking her to a tee. He had beaten her at her own game. Both people stood, facing each other, one had a smug smile and the other a cold look of frustration.
Bastard! This is what you get for not flying Delta. Now, when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, you are stuck for eight days with this stubborn son of a bitch. Dammit all to hell, Allie!
“So, what? What? What am I supposed to do now?! I can’t stay here for another fucking week!” Her coldness had exploded into violent shards of rage, flying throughout the entire room, filling it with her fury. Soon, flames of pure anger would engulf the surrounding boxes, and spread to the white walls, charring them black with wrath. The loss of the mini-battle had hit her hard, and she did not know why.
“What’s wrong with staying here for a week? I don’t mind.” Splash! Those words were as ice water thrown on the vehement flame. It was almost possible to hear the sizzling, dying embers. But the sparks of her ire were not to be entirely extinguished with one mere splash.
“I just can’t. I can’t stay here. And what’s more, I’m not going to.” Her voice had resumed its cold manner, but Allara felt her heart racing, the fire still burned within her; if Orlando could have heard her thoughts at that moment, he’d be a little more than surprised.
Oh god please no. No no no no I can’t stay here! No… His eyes…fuck…I know those eyes, I know them. No no no no…I can’t stay, please let there be another way, please.
It was a silent begging deep within her soul. Something was telling her to stay, but she couldn’t place a finger on what it was, or why exactly it wanted her here. Slowly, she felt it taking over the rest of her senses, and as she waged the inner battle silently, Orlando watched and observed every emotion that came over her delicate features. Without a word, she walked to his bedroom to retrieve her shoes. She then moved towards the door.
“I’ll be back in an hour.” Slam. The frame shook as the door was closed and anyone walking at that moment would never have known about the woman with the inner turmoil or the man who’s curiosity overcame him. The only hint left of Allara Evans in the entire apartment was the gently smoldering windowsill and the strangely heated doorknob.
~*~
Allara walked the streets of Los Angeles in the early morning sun. Her mood was contemplative and ponderous as she thought over her current situation. The noises of the city swirled around her and went unheeded. The general chatter of people mixed with car horns and mufflers churned into a deafening noise that she completely ignored.
So. What to do now. You can stay with him, or you can sleep on the streets. There aren’t that many options, Allara. True, staying with him would be the ultimate test of boundaries, but you’re going to have to live with it or not live at all. Oooooo, you could live in the airport! No…don’t think so. Not enough money for food. So, you have to stay there. Now, to phrase it in a way so that he doesn’t think he won. Too late for that. I know. Shut up. Are you talking to yourself? No. Well what, huh? What are you going to say? I don’t know. Think fast. Why can’t I just give in? Give in?! You don’t give in! OH would you just fuck off?
By the time these thoughts had entered and left her brain, she had made a large square and was right in front of Orlando’s building. She had done it in fifteen minutes. Three more times she circled the block and three more times the same thoughts ran through her head, all to no avail. She could not think of what to say or do when she entered that apartment again. But, she steeled her nerves and hoped that her skills at impromptu would guide her for this next encounter with the familiar eyes. She stalked up the stairs, wondering how she was going to escape with any dignity whatsoever. She came to a full halt when she saw three men and a refrigerator resting on a dolly in front of Orlando’s door. The suddenly ceasing noise of falling footsteps on the stairwell made one of the men turn his head in her direction.
“Hello Allara.” Orlando didn’t quite know what to say to her yet, and at the moment he had to get his new refrigerator into his new kitchen without bumping or scratching his new walls. She waited calmly by the door, having ascending the last few steps, until they were done and the refrigerator was hooked up. It wouldn’t be fully operational for another twenty-four hours they were told. When she walked back into the apartment, she was surprised to find all the boxes moved neatly to one side of the room and a living room set adorning the previously blank space. A jet black couch with soft gray swirls sat atop contemporary wooden legs. Two matching chartreuse chairs with darker green swirls had been put on either side of the couch and all were in easy access of the glass-topped coffee table. Silently, Allara gave it her seal of approval. The workers left, and Allara assumed that Orlando would either be receiving the rest of his furniture another day or he would be picking it up later that afternoon.
“So.”
“So.” Again, they stood, staring at each other. Vibrant green clashed against warm brown. Jade fell to the floor and chocolate flashed with triumph.
Why can’t I look into his eyes?
She gave a heavy sigh, made her discomfort clear, and finally raised her face to look at him once again. Defeat was inevitable, there was no place else for her to be.
“Godammit.” She muttered under her breath, barely conscious of the fact that she was speaking aloud.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Still unsure as to how to act around this temperamental female, Orlando was determined to watch what he said very carefully, so as not to let anything possibly offending slide past his lips.
“Where do you want me to put my stuff? I hope that couch is comfortable.” A barely audible sigh of relief escaped, unnoticed, from Orlando’s lips.
“You can just set it in the bedroom, and hopefully we’ll figure out something more comfortable than the couch for you by tonight. It’s really not that comfortable…just nice to look at. I plan on getting some bean bags so I don’t ever have to sit on it.” Without a word, she made her way to the bedroom. As her bags hit the floor with a resounding thud, the phone rang.
~*~
