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I had met Orlando in New York City a month earlier. I was in town auditioning for Wicked, and he had been doing promotion for his up-coming movie, Elizabethtown.

After my second audition song that wet Friday afternoon, I hurried off the stage to change and get ready to catch my flight home. As I was coming down the backstage stairs, I literally crashed right into him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, helping me up off the floor. I heard his sexy British accent, but I didn’t recognize it.

“You should really watch where you’re going,” I said angrily as I brushed myself off. Then I looked up at him. I just about fell down again.

“I’m so sorry!” I said, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

“No, you were right,” he replied, handing me my bag. “I wasn’t watching. I’m sorry.” He smiled and I felt my stomach lurch. “Uh, was that you on the stage a few minutes ago?”

I’d forgotten about my audition in the excitement of bumping into Orlando Bloom, so I didn’t even think that he might have heard me when I was performing. I flushed again. “Yeah, I guess it was,” I said pathetically. “I was trying out for a show.”

“Are you an actor?”

“No, not really,” I said, pushing my hair out of my eyes. “I’m a singer, mostly. Acting just comes with the territory.”

“From what I heard, you’re very good.” He smiled again.

“Thanks.” I turned to go. “It was nice meeting you,” I said over my shoulder. I had to catch my flight home.

“Wait,” he called, hurrying to catch me as I raced from the building. “What’s your name?”

“Charlie,” I replied, walking briskly through the lobby of the theatre. “Charlie Madison.”

“Wait,” he said again, catching me by the arm. I stopped. “I hope you get the part.”

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing, pretty much right in his face. Soon he joined me, shaking his head. “I don’t mean to laugh,” I gasped after a moment. “But that was pretty corny.” I laughed again.

“I know,” he said, shaking his head again, a gentle flush on his face. “I couldn’t think of anything else to say.” He shrugged.

I smiled at him. “I have to go. Have a good one.” I turned and walked out of the theatre.

Of course I had to stand on the street in the pouring rain for a good ten minutes trying to find a cab once I was outside. As I got more and more soaked, I thought about what had just happened. I had just met Orlando Bloom, the man I’d seen many times in some of my favourite movies. I couldn’t believe it.

Just as I was about to give up, a cab finally pulled up beside the curb. I hurried to get in. I was freezing, despite the muggy August heat. Unfortunately, when I opened the door, there was someone already in the backseat.

“Sorry,” I called, shut the door, and stepped back onto the sidewalk.

Then the cab door opened, and Orlando got out. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Having a problem?” he asked, leaning on the open door.

“No, I’m okay, thanks,” I replied, trying not to shiver. “I didn’t know anyone was in the cab when I opened the door.”

“I asked the driver to pull over.”

“Oh.” Brilliant, I know, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Do you want a ride?” He grinned at me.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re soaked and freezing,” he pointed out. “It’s no trouble. Come on, get in.”

I immediately got in the warm car. I felt like a drowned rat, and I’m sure I didn’t look much better than I felt. Orlando got in beside me and closed the door.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

Without hesitation, Orlando gave the name of his hotel. I felt a rush of nerves, not sure what to expect.

“I need to get to the airport,” I said nervously.

“Not in those clothes, you don’t,” he said as we pulled away from the curb. “You’ll catch pneumonia. We’ll go to the hotel, you can dry off, change if you need to, and then we’ll get you a car to the airport, okay?” There was that smile again.

How could I refuse? I was freezing and intensely uncomfortable, and here was Orlando Bloom offering me his room to dry off in. I’d have been crazy to refuse.

“Thank you,” was all I said.

“So what was that you were singing back there?” Orlando asked after a few seconds of silence, save for the rain pounding on the windows.

“ ‘I’d Give My Life For You’ from Miss Saigon. It was one of my audition pieces.”

“It was really good.”

I smiled. “Thanks. I just hope it’s good enough to get me a part. I flew here from Ontario, so I hope it wasn’t a fruitless flight.” He was easy to talk to, and I found that conversation came very naturally. And he wasn’t too hard on the eyes, either.

“I know nothing about musicals, but I liked it.” He gave me a boyish smile and I felt myself melt. “When do you find out?”

“Uh, next week, as far as I know,” I said, twisting my purse straps between my fingers. I didn’t want to look at him too much, for fear he’d think I was staring.

“When’s your flight?” He looked at his oversized watch.

“A couple hours, if it’s on schedule.” I looked out the window at the pouring rain. “The rain might be a problem.”

“Listen, do you want to grab something to eat before you go? I can have something brought up to the room when we get there.” He looked out his window. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere tonight.”

I didn’t know what to say. He was inviting me to eat with him in his room. I wanted to say yes, but I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea.

“Um, maybe we could go somewhere to eat?” I suggested.

“You’re not comfortable coming to my hotel room, right?” He looked at me with such a sincere expression on his face that I instantly felt silly for being nervous. “If you’re not comfortable, we can go somewhere else. That’s not a problem. I just thought it would be easier with the weather as nasty as it is to just stay in.”

I searched his face for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to just give in. “You’re right,” I said finally. “Room service is more practical. It’s probably faster too.”

He laughed, breaking the tension in the car. “Are you trying to get away from me?” he teased.

I smiled and shook my head.

A few minutes later we pulled up in front of the hotel. Orlando paid the driver and then hurried around to open my door for me as I gathered up my soggy bag. I wasn’t used to men being so chivalrous, so I muttered an awkward “thank you” as I got out of the cab. I went to give him money for the ride, but he refused, took my bag, and led me into the hotel.

We were silent as we took the elevator up to his room. I was starting to feel like a schoolgirl, stuck in the elevator with her crush. I didn’t dare look at him, for fear I’d start giggling.

When we got to the room, Orlando put my bag on the floor and gestured toward a door at the side of the room. “The bathroom is in there,” he said, sitting on the bed and grabbing the phone. “What would you like to eat?” He began leafing through the menu that was on the nightstand.

“Anything is fine with me,” I said as I went into the bathroom. “Uh, I don’t eat meat, though.” I shut the door.

The bathroom was bigger than my whole apartment at home, and I stopped a minute just to take it all in. I went to the gigantic bathtub on the far side of the room and gently fingered the soft towels that sat beside it before taking one and drying out my hair. I knew the towel wasn’t going to be enough for my long dark hair, so I looked under the vanity for a hair dryer. The whole time I was fixing myself up, I kept thinking that Orlando Bloom was sitting in the next room, the bedroom no less, ordering food for us to share. It seemed so surreal to me. I had to stop myself from giggling like a mad woman, my natural reaction when I got nervous.

When I finished drying out and changing into my spare clothes, I went back into the bedroom. I was glad I hadn’t changed back into my regular clothes after my audition, or I wouldn’t have had anything to wear.

“All nice and dry?” Orlando asked as I closed the bathroom door. He was sitting on the bed still, smiling.

“Yes, thanks,” I said, going to a chair by the door and sitting down. “Thanks for letting me use your bathroom.”

He laughed. “You’re welcome.” He paused for a minute, then said, “You can come sit over here, you know.” He gestured to the bed area.

I stood up and crossed to the chair closest to the bed. “Is that better?” I asked.

“Well, you’re not on the other side of the room now, so it’s an improvement.” He put the room service menu back on the night table. “Lunch will be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Great.”

“So where are you flying off to today?”

“Toronto. I’m going home.”

“You live in Toronto?”

“No, about an hour west of Toronto, actually.” I knew I shouldn’t be telling a complete stranger where I lived, but if he’d asked, I would have drawn him a map from New York City to my house in Kitchener.

“Have you ever been to the Toronto International Film Festival?”

“Once, yes,” I replied. “It’s quite the event.”

“Are you going this year?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I said, absent-mindedly fingering the buttons on my shirt. “Are you?” I vaguely
remembered he’d been there the year before, but I couldn’t remember what movie he’d been promoting.

“Yes, we’re premiering Elizabethtown, so we’re all booked for promotional stuff in and around Toronto.”

“Nice.” I didn’t know what else to say. I was quite willing to just let him talk and answer when I needed to. I figured I wouldn’t make a fool of myself that way.

“Look, I don’t usually do things like this, but can I see you when I come to Toronto?” he asked, looking at me earnestly.

I didn’t answer for a few seconds. I felt the familiar nervous giggle rising up in my throat, and though I wanted to say yes right away, I couldn’t open my mouth for fear of that horrible giggle coming out. I knew I’d embarrass myself completely if it did. I just wanted to say the right thing.

“I don’t see why not,” I answered finally, swallowing my nerves. “I think I’d like that.”

“Me too.” He grinned at me. “Who knew a theatre tour would end this well?”

“Is that what you were doing at the theatre today?” I asked, realizing I had no idea why he’d been there.

“Yeah, when I come to cities like this, I like to see the big theatres and take in a show or two while I’m there.”

“Have you seen anything during this trip?” I asked, shifting in my chair.

“No, I don’t have time for a show this time around,” he said. “I’m going back to the Caribbean tomorrow for two weeks before the festival, so I’m on a pretty tight schedule.”

“The Caribbean?”

“We’re doing the sequels to Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“I love that movie!” I practically squealed, then caught myself. I knew I sounded like a groupie or something. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “I just really enjoyed the movie.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he chuckled.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a fan,” I confessed, looking at my hands. “I’m trying not to be a total movie geek here, but it’s really difficult.”

“I appreciate you telling me,” he said, sliding across the bed so he was sitting right in front of me. “We’ve all been a ‘movie geek’ at some point in our lives. Don’t worry about it.”

Even though I’d read plenty of articles about him, and I’d seen many interviews, I wasn’t prepared for how down-to-earth he was, how nice. I smiled warmly, then realized we were less than two feet apart and he was staring at me intently. It was in that look that I saw him not as Orlando Bloom, the actor, but as just a handsome man I’d met by accident, a man I definitely wanted to see again.