Two

“Orlando, take the trash out!”

Orlando craned his neck to look up at Samantha without moving any muscle not in his head as he whined, “Why do I always have to take out the trash?”

“Because I cook and clean and pay the rent.”

“Nooo,” Orlando retorted. He paused. “Ashley helps.”

“Oh, would you just take the trash out already?” Samantha gave an exasperated sigh. He could see by her smile she wasn’t really mad, though. He was her baby brother. She could never stay mad at him.

Orlando groaned and pushed himself up from the couch, wondering why Ashley couldn’t take the trash out. When it came down to it, though, Samantha actually asked very little of him for granting him a bedroom. He took the trash out. He had to keep the contents of his room from leaking out into the rest of the flat. He had to help pay for food and utilities, though since money rarely stayed long with him, big sister was constantly coming to the rescue and spotting him the money. He had moved in with her and another friend when he’d first come to London four years before, lived on his own for a while, then decided it was better with her. This thrilled their mum, and Sam probably didn’t mind much, either. It meant she didn’t have to take the trash out and there was someone to go looking after any strange noises that came in the night.

Samantha was bustling around the kitchen getting ready for work as Orlando hauled the bag of trash out of the can and tied the top. The rest of the bags were kept in the bin on the backporch, and Orlando slid the door open to grab the bin, pausing momentarily to glance out across the small courtyard they shared with the flat on the other side. Ashley had shared at dinner the night before that the last two residents of the house had arrived but she had only met the boy, some Italian dick with enough confidence to shatter a mirror. Orlando hadn’t met any of them, and Samantha had only met the first girl to move in, Isadora. Orlando spent as little time at home as possible, and when he was home, he just wanted to veg, not venture across the courtyard to make chums with their neighbors.

However, glancing across the courtyard now when music caught his ear, he saw one of the girls crouching on the floor of the living room, bobbing her head to the music as she crawled around some wooden project. He watched her a moment, smiling as she sang along with the music. He couldn’t hear her from all the way across the courtyard, but he could faintly see her lips moving, her bright red head almost blinding in the patch of sunlight sneaking through her open door. There was something familiar about her, though...

“Orlando, what are you– oh.” He turned to look at Samantha as she joined him in the doorway, following his gaze. “One of our new neighbors?” Orlando shrugged. “She’s a cutie. Why don’t you go say hello?”

Orlando snorted, “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m taking the trash out, remember?”

“Don’t be a smart ass. Take the trash out and then go say hello. I’ll even hold your hand if you want,” she teased. “But we need to meet our neighbors. You never know when we’re going to need a cup of sugar or a bag of popcorn or a big screen tele.”

“They have a big screen telly?” Orlando gasped and pouted when Samantha nodded. “That’s so unfair. Why can’t we get a big screen telly?”

“Save up your money, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. Grabbing the bin and casting one final glance across the courtyard, he dragged the whole load out to the front curb with a grunt of disgust. How was it that three people managed to accumulate so much garbage in only a week?

When he returned, Sam was snatching her stuff up from the kitchen counter to head off to her job. She hit him playfully on the arm as she passed and order,

“Seriously, go meet the neighbor girl. Make some friends instead of sitting on the couch all day.”

“It’s my day off! I can’t relax for one day?”

“No, go make yourself useful,” Samantha ordered.

Orlando rolled his eyes, “You’re worse than Mum. Do you know that? You make Mum look like a laid back–“

”Good bye, Orlando. Make a good impression.” And with that, Samantha was gone, leaving Orlando alone in the flat except for Maude stretched out on the sofa. He was terribly tempted to join his beloved pooch for a day of sitting on his ass watching cartoons all day. While getting a soda from the fridge, though, his eyes wandered across the courtyard and he saw the neighbor girl again, still working intently on whatever it was she was working on, still singing along with the music.

“Fine, I’m going,” Orlando sighed. It was disgusting how much Samantha had always bossed him around, but it was even more disgusting how often he complied with her demands. Samantha couldn’t stay mad at her little brother and Orlando couldn’t stand up to his big sister.

Leaving the door open in case Maude wanted to follow –she didn’t– Orlando carried his soda with him across the courtyard and paused in the doorway, smiling when the woman didn’t notice him. Her back was to him, her tight jeans and black tank top tracing her curves most enticingly. Orlando had no qualms in admitting his appreciation and even tilted his head a little, smiling as he finally heard the voice of hers alongside that of Al Green.

The women shuffled around and picked the instructions up, then happened to see his legs over the top of the paper. Slowly her eyes trailed up until they reached his face, at which point she suddenly gasped,

“Oh God, I forgot my helmet! Stay back!”

“Wha– oh! I knew you looked familiar,” Orlando laughed, stepping back in amusement and nearly tripping on Maude in the process. Apparently she had decided something interesting was going on across the courtyard.

“You recognize me? So does that mean you’ve actually been targeting me?”

Orlando shook his head, “No, no, it’s sheer coincidence I’ve almost knocked you senseless what, three times now?”

“Yeah, coincidence,” the woman snorted. Her eyes turned away from him, though, as she tried to hold two wooden boards together and twist a screw in at the same time. This was impossible since she possessed only two arms, and the screw fell to the floor. The woman let out a frustrated growl and reached for the screw, but this meant the boards slipped.

“Would you like some help?”

“Do you promise not to knock me senseless?”

Orlando scratched his neck, “Ah... well, I can do my best.”

“Best not to, or best to...”

“Best not to,” he laughed. He took the next frustrated growl as an invitation in, and crouched down beside her, reaching out for the screwdriver.

The woman stared at him for a moment, then insisted, “I can screw perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Oh, I don’t know doubt that...”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” the woman laughed, throwing her head back to show her pearly teeth.

Orlando smiled for his own wittiness, glad to have made her laugh, then pointed out, “You have to put muscle behind it to make it go through the wood, though.”

The woman gave him a wide-eyed look, then smirked, “Hold the wood, please.” Orlando decided to let her fail on her own despite his warnings and held the wood. She gave the screw a sharp twist, raised her eyebrow at him, and then screwed it in, muttering, “Need muscle to screw... I could snap you like a twig.”

“Excuse me? I believe you’ve felt the punch I pack.”

“Yeah, and it hurt, but I’m still standing.”

It was Orlando’s turn to laugh as he insisted, “You don’t even know me and you’ve insulted my masculinity several times now.”

“You insulted my masculinity.”

“I... I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to insult your– well your femininity is nothing to joke about, obviously,” he offered, raising his eyebrows and making it obvious where his eyes trailed.

She rolled her eyes, “Please. Hold this one.” Orlando did so, watching her face closely, watching the way she bit her lips together in concentration.

Once the screw was in, Orlando asked, “So what are we making?”

“What? Can’t you tell? It’s a bookshelf!”

“Oh. Oh, right. Of course.” They locked eyes and paused for a silent moment, then both laughed.

“It’ll look fine when it’s finished.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

With two sets of hands, the project didn’t require much more time, and soon the two stepped back to smile with pride and admiration at their completed bookshelf.

“It looks great, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Orlando nodded. “Since I helped. It would have looked like shit without me.”

The woman laughed, “Ego, much?”

“So, where do you want this? Even with your guns, I don’t think you can carry this thing on your own...”

“Upstairs in my room.”

Orlando froze, then glanced at the staircase across the room and repeated, “Upstairs?”

“Yep.”

“The second level?”

“No, the third. The second level is the boys’ rooms.”

“Are you kidding me?” Orlando gasped, throwing his hands up. “We have to carry this thing up two flights of stairs? Why didn’t you put it together in your room?”

She grinned, “What, is it too much for you?”

“Is it too much for you?”

She crouched down, leaned against the bookshelf to tip it up in order to slide her fingers beneath, then grinned up at him, “Well?”

“Watch out Maude,” Orlando order, gently kicking the dog back from where she sniffing at his feet. “Ready... and... lift.” With grunts of effort, they lifted the bookshelf and shuffled over to the stairs. Here they balanced it on their legs to momentarily catch their breath, then headed up the steps, Orlando going second to carry the brunt of the weight, though he didn’t mention this was why. From what he had heard of this woman so far, she probably would have insisted she go last, even if it ripped her arms off.

When they reached the second storey, a short rest was required. After they had both caught their breath, it was another lift on the count of three, then a quick shuffle down the hall, and soon the bookshelf was nestled into its new home between two windows.

“Beautiful.”

“So this is your bedroom. Man, I don’t even know your name and I’m already in,” Orlando mused, glancing around at the piles of clothing and half-emptied boxes and stacks of books and collections of bottles and odd trinkets.

“It’s usually much cleaner, but you’ll never know. Come on,” she ordered, shooing him from the room.

Orlando gave her an impish grin, “What? Never? No slumber parties or–“

”I don’t even know your name and you’re already inviting yourself over to spend the night at my house. You know what? Where did you even come from?” she demanded, stopping on the stairs quite suddenly and turning to face him.

With a loud laugh, Orlando apologized, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to skip that very important part... though you really shouldn’t invite perfect strangers into your living room. It’s not safe.”

She walked the rest of the way down the stairs, nodding, “Yeah, not with psychos like you walking around. What did you say your name was?”

“Orlando. Orlando Bloom.” She stared at the hand extended in front of her and the confident smirk on the face before her. When she raised her eyebrow, he added, “I share the courtyard with you. I live over there with–“

”Joslyn Montgomery,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Thanks for your help.”

Orlando nodded, then watched her as she stepped around him to clean up the tools and trash form their project, “Yeah, hey, no problem. What are neighbors for, right?”

“What day is trash day?” Joslyn suddenly asked, looking at the mountain of empty boxes and overflowing bags.

“Today. Truck comes at eleven.”

“Those suckers left me with all the trash,” she sighed, making a face. They had known it was trash day. They had lived in the flat for two weeks; they knew by now. Jerks.

Before she even asked, Orlando grabbed a bag, “Come on, we’ve got like twenty minutes.” He smiled for himself as he led the way to the curb, hearing the nagging he suffered from his sister to take the trash out. And here had volunteered! Samantha would roll her eyes if she heard of this, but then Samantha wasn’t a cute neighbor girl.


	Two “Orlando, take the trash out!” Orlando craned his neck to look up at Samantha without moving any muscle not in his head as he whined, “Why do I always have to take out the trash?” “Because I cook and clean and pay the rent.” “Nooo,” Orlando retorted. He paused. “Ashley helps.” “Oh, would you just take the trash out already?” Samantha gave an exasperated sigh. He could see by her smile she wasn’t really mad, though. He was her baby brother. She could never stay mad at him. Orlando groaned and pushed himself up from the couch, wondering why Ashley couldn’t take the trash out. When it came down to it, though, Samantha actually asked very little of him for granting him a bedroom. He took the trash out. He had to keep the contents of his room from leaking out into the rest of the flat. He had to help pay for food and utilities, though since money rarely stayed long with him, big sister was constantly coming to the rescue and spotting him the money. He had moved in with her and another friend when he’d first come to London four years before, lived on his own for a while, then decided it was better with her. This thrilled their mum, and Sam probably didn’t mind much, either. It meant she didn’t have to take the trash out and there was someone to go looking after any strange noises that came in the night. Samantha was bustling around the kitchen getting ready for work as Orlando hauled the bag of trash out of the can and tied the top. The rest of the bags were kept in the bin on the backporch, and Orlando slid the door open to grab the bin, pausing momentarily to glance out across the small courtyard they shared with the flat on the other side. Ashley had shared at dinner the night before that the last two residents of the house had arrived but she had only met the boy, some Italian dick with enough confidence to shatter a mirror. Orlando hadn’t met any of them, and Samantha had only met the first girl to move in, Isadora. Orlando spent as little time at home as possible, and when he was home, he just wanted to veg, not venture across the courtyard to make chums with their neighbors. However, glancing across the courtyard now when music caught his ear, he saw one of the girls crouching on the floor of the living room, bobbing her head to the music as she crawled around some wooden project. He watched her a moment, smiling as she sang along with the music. He couldn’t hear her from all the way across the courtyard, but he could faintly see her lips moving, her bright red head almost blinding in the patch of sunlight sneaking through her open door. There was something familiar about her, though... “Orlando, what are you– oh.” He turned to look at Samantha as she joined him in the doorway, following his gaze. “One of our new neighbors?” Orlando shrugged. “She’s a cutie. Why don’t you go say hello?” Orlando snorted, “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m taking the trash out, remember?” “Don’t be a smart ass. Take the trash out and then go say hello. I’ll even hold your hand if you want,” she teased. “But we need to meet our neighbors. You never know when we’re going to need a cup of sugar or a bag of popcorn or a big screen tele.” “They have a big screen telly?” Orlando gasped and pouted when Samantha nodded. “That’s so unfair. Why can’t we get a big screen telly?” “Save up your money, kid.” “Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. Grabbing the bin and casting one final glance across the courtyard, he dragged the whole load out to the front curb with a grunt of disgust. How was it that three people managed to accumulate so much garbage in only a week? When he returned, Sam was snatching her stuff up from the kitchen counter to head off to her job. She hit him playfully on the arm as she passed and order, “Seriously, go meet the neighbor girl. Make some friends instead of sitting on the couch all day.” “It’s my day off! I can’t relax for one day?” “No, go make yourself useful,” Samantha ordered. Orlando rolled his eyes, “You’re worse than Mum. Do you know that? You make Mum look like a laid back–“ ”Good bye, Orlando. Make a good impression.” And with that, Samantha was gone, leaving Orlando alone in the flat except for Maude stretched out on the sofa. He was terribly tempted to join his beloved pooch for a day of sitting on his ass watching cartoons all day. While getting a soda from the fridge, though, his eyes wandered across the courtyard and he saw the neighbor girl again, still working intently on whatever it was she was working on, still singing along with the music. “Fine, I’m going,” Orlando sighed. It was disgusting how much Samantha had always bossed him around, but it was even more disgusting how often he complied with her demands. Samantha couldn’t stay mad at her little brother and Orlando couldn’t stand up to his big sister. Leaving the door open in case Maude wanted to follow –she didn’t– Orlando carried his soda with him across the courtyard and paused in the doorway, smiling when the woman didn’t notice him. Her back was to him, her tight jeans and black tank top tracing her curves most enticingly. Orlando had no qualms in admitting his appreciation and even tilted his head a little, smiling as he finally heard the voice of hers alongside that of Al Green. The women shuffled around and picked the instructions up, then happened to see his legs over the top of the paper. Slowly her eyes trailed up until they reached his face, at which point she suddenly gasped, “Oh God, I forgot my helmet! Stay back!” “Wha– oh! I knew you looked familiar,” Orlando laughed, stepping back in amusement and nearly tripping on Maude in the process. Apparently she had decided something interesting was going on across the courtyard. “You recognize me? So does that mean you’ve actually been targeting me?” Orlando shook his head, “No, no, it’s sheer coincidence I’ve almost knocked you senseless what, three times now?” “Yeah, coincidence,” the woman snorted. Her eyes turned away from him, though, as she tried to hold two wooden boards together and twist a screw in at the same time. This was impossible since she possessed only two arms, and the screw fell to the floor. The woman let out a frustrated growl and reached for the screw, but this meant the boards slipped. “Would you like some help?” “Do you promise not to knock me senseless?” Orlando scratched his neck, “Ah... well, I can do my best.” “Best not to, or best to...” “Best not to,” he laughed. He took the next frustrated growl as an invitation in, and crouched down beside her, reaching out for the screwdriver. The woman stared at him for a moment, then insisted, “I can screw perfectly fine, thank you.” “Oh, I don’t know doubt that...” “I didn’t mean it like that,” the woman laughed, throwing her head back to show her pearly teeth. Orlando smiled for his own wittiness, glad to have made her laugh, then pointed out, “You have to put muscle behind it to make it go through the wood, though.” The woman gave him a wide-eyed look, then smirked, “Hold the wood, please.” Orlando decided to let her fail on her own despite his warnings and held the wood. She gave the screw a sharp twist, raised her eyebrow at him, and then screwed it in, muttering, “Need muscle to screw... I could snap you like a twig.” “Excuse me? I believe you’ve felt the punch I pack.” “Yeah, and it hurt, but I’m still standing.” It was Orlando’s turn to laugh as he insisted, “You don’t even know me and you’ve insulted my masculinity several times now.” “You insulted my masculinity.” “I... I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to insult your– well your femininity is nothing to joke about, obviously,” he offered, raising his eyebrows and making it obvious where his eyes trailed. She rolled her eyes, “Please. Hold this one.” Orlando did so, watching her face closely, watching the way she bit her lips together in concentration. Once the screw was in, Orlando asked, “So what are we making?” “What? Can’t you tell? It’s a bookshelf!” “Oh. Oh, right. Of course.” They locked eyes and paused for a silent moment, then both laughed. “It’ll look fine when it’s finished.” “I’ll take your word for it.” With two sets of hands, the project didn’t require much more time, and soon the two stepped back to smile with pride and admiration at their completed bookshelf. “It looks great, doesn’t it?” “It does,” Orlando nodded. “Since I helped. It would have looked like shit without me.” The woman laughed, “Ego, much?” “So, where do you want this? Even with your guns, I don’t think you can carry this thing on your own...” “Upstairs in my room.” Orlando froze, then glanced at the staircase across the room and repeated, “Upstairs?” “Yep.” “The second level?” “No, the third. The second level is the boys’ rooms.” “Are you kidding me?” Orlando gasped, throwing his hands up. “We have to carry this thing up two flights of stairs? Why didn’t you put it together in your room?” She grinned, “What, is it too much for you?” “Is it too much for you?” She crouched down, leaned against the bookshelf to tip it up in order to slide her fingers beneath, then grinned up at him, “Well?” “Watch out Maude,” Orlando order, gently kicking the dog back from where she sniffing at his feet. “Ready... and... lift.” With grunts of effort, they lifted the bookshelf and shuffled over to the stairs. Here they balanced it on their legs to momentarily catch their breath, then headed up the steps, Orlando going second to carry the brunt of the weight, though he didn’t mention this was why. From what he had heard of this woman so far, she probably would have insisted she go last, even if it ripped her arms off. When they reached the second storey, a short rest was required. After they had both caught their breath, it was another lift on the count of three, then a quick shuffle down the hall, and soon the bookshelf was nestled into its new home between two windows. “Beautiful.” “So this is your bedroom. Man, I don’t even know your name and I’m already in,” Orlando mused, glancing around at the piles of clothing and half-emptied boxes and stacks of books and collections of bottles and odd trinkets. “It’s usually much cleaner, but you’ll never know. Come on,” she ordered, shooing him from the room. Orlando gave her an impish grin, “What? Never? No slumber parties or–“ ”I don’t even know your name and you’re already inviting yourself over to spend the night at my house. You know what? Where did you even come from?” she demanded, stopping on the stairs quite suddenly and turning to face him. With a loud laugh, Orlando apologized, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to skip that very important part... though you really shouldn’t invite perfect strangers into your living room. It’s not safe.” She walked the rest of the way down the stairs, nodding, “Yeah, not with psychos like you walking around. What did you say your name was?” “Orlando. Orlando Bloom.” She stared at the hand extended in front of her and the confident smirk on the face before her. When she raised her eyebrow, he added, “I share the courtyard with you. I live over there with–“ ”Joslyn Montgomery,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Thanks for your help.” Orlando nodded, then watched her as she stepped around him to clean up the tools and trash form their project, “Yeah, hey, no problem. What are neighbors for, right?” “What day is trash day?” Joslyn suddenly asked, looking at the mountain of empty boxes and overflowing bags. “Today. Truck comes at eleven.” “Those suckers left me with all the trash,” she sighed, making a face. They had known it was trash day. They had lived in the flat for two weeks; they knew by now. Jerks. Before she even asked, Orlando grabbed a bag, “Come on, we’ve got like twenty minutes.” He smiled for himself as he led the way to the curb, hearing the nagging he suffered from his sister to take the trash out. And here had volunteered! Samantha would roll her eyes if she heard of this, but then Samantha wasn’t a cute neighbor girl.