I was at home, glancing over a script recently sent to me by Fiona, my agent, when I found myself really wanting to see those eyes again. Of course, I told myself at the time that what I was really doing was returning the clothing that Victoria had lent me, and that it had nothing to do whatsoever with seeing her. After all, it wasn’t as if she was particularly memorable, like the tall, leggy redhead I had brought home with me from Viggo’s Art Exhibit, who had been both positively stunning and could do amazing things with her mouth. It didn’t matter that at the moment I couldn’t for the life of me remember her name, although I did have her number somewhere around the house.

Sometimes I can’t help but think “Jesus, Orli, you’re a fucking bastard” just before I convince myself that girls like that redhead, that’s what they want. I highly doubt that she was sitting by her phone, waiting with bated breath for me to call. More likely than not she was too busy telling all her friends that she fucked Orlando Bloom and that made her better than them somehow. Maybe she would even put it on her resume. My cynicism was reaching new levels.

After grabbing the sweats and t-shirt and my keys, which took a little over twenty minutes to find because my place was a mess, I headed down to the marina. It was late morning and I found I was already mulling over the idea of asking Victoria to lunch, as a way to let her know I really wasn’t upset by her knocking me off the pier. If nothing else, it had provided Elijah with a tale to recite countless times to everyone he ran into the night of the Exhibit, describing over and over again the expression on my face when I had surfaced. It was easy to take the good-natured ribbing in stride. That’s until it gets in the way of picking up women. By the time Elijah started telling the tale to the group of females who had gathered around us, I’d had enough. He seemed to sense that rather quickly and the adventures of the day were no longer recalled.

Traffic to the marina wasn’t bad and I made it in record time. I was mentally kicking myself that I hadn’t called Elijah early that morning and gone surfing for awhile – the weather was perfect for it. I obviously wasn’t the only one who thought so because the pier was unbelievably crowded and I found myself wondering if Vitcoria’s uncle’s boat was even at dock. Fortunately, I caught sight of it anchored in the same spot as the other day, only it was facing towards the sea. Across the back, the words “Dolphin’s Cry” were painted. I smiled, finding that I liked the name quite a bit, even if it denoted a much prettier boat than what I approached.

A crowd was exiting the boat onto the pier, signaling that it had just returned from a fishing excursion. Not wanting to be in the way, I hung back for a bit, watching as happy fishermen passed by with poles in one hand and a sack of salmon in the other. It was actually kind of funny and I was forced to bite my lip to keep from laughing outright. I focused my attention on the deck, hoping to catch a glimpse of Victoria, but minutes passed by and there was no sign of her. Once the line of disembarking passengers had thinned, I moved forward, glancing inside the window of the cabin for signs of any of the crew.

“Can I he’p you with somethin’?”

I jumped, almost out of my skin truth be told, and turned to find a burly man standing behind me, arms folded across his chest, watching me with a scowl. He stood at least six and a half feet tall and was built like a boxer. He wore a dark blue stocking cap over his graying hair and a matching sweater. He smelled entirely of fish.

Attempting not to wrinkle my nose, I replied, “I’m looking for Victoria Adams.”

He raised a brow. “You the Brit she knocked into the water?”

“Yeah. You Uncle Tony?” I asked, as off-handedly as he had referred to me as a “Brit”.

“That’s me.” Uncrossing his arms, “Uncle Tony” moved past me, climbing up onto the boat. “You don’t look the worst for wear,” he commented, coiling a thick rope that laid on the deck.

“No harm done.” I shrugged. “I came by to bring the clothes she lent me.” I tossed the garments to him.

The big fisherman chuckled. “That’s my Torrie. I love her dearly but she has a knack for not paying much attention to her surroundings from time to time. ‘Bout as careful as a three-legged elephant in a china shop.”

I grinned at the image. “Is she – “

“Not here,” Tony interrupted, reading my mind. “She only works with me on weekends. Torrie has a normal job on weekdays.”

I found myself attempting to picture her as a waitress and failed miserably.

“ --- over at the Marine Mammal Center.”

“Sorry. What?”

Tony placed a foot on the edge of the boat, leaning over to speak to me. “Said she works at the Marine Mammal Center. Over in Santa Monica.”

“Oh.” Never heard of it. And I was a bit bummed that I wouldn’t be able to see her. “Well, tell her thanks for the clothes, eh.”

“Sure thing.”

As I walked back to the car, I told myself there was really no need to see her anyway, my main purpose was to return the borrowed clothing and now I could go back home, finish looking over the script and forget all about Victoria Adams and the episode at the pier. At least, that’s what I told myself. Too bad I turned the opposite direction of home, determined to find a place I had never heard of before to see someone I didn’t really know and had no idea if she would want to see me. Not to mention that I still couldn’t fathom why I wanted to see her. I could barely recall what she looked like except that she was tall and had dark hair and a sunburned, freckled nose and incredibly bright green eyes.

I spent the next hour driving around Santa Monica until I found the Marine Mammal Center, situated on the water and encompassing both a private beach and the surrounding hills. The parking lot was moderately full, including two school buses that sat with engines running near the entrance. I remained in my car, staring at the building ahead, chewing on a nail and wondering what the hell I was doing there. Elijah would have laughed at me. For all I knew, she didn’t even remember who the hell I was.

Don’t believe the magazines. I’m terribly insecure. Any actor is. That’s why we’re in this business, because its easier to portray somebody other than ourselves. That way we are allowed to be completely outrageous and not give it a second thought. Insecurity only deepens when the world expects something from you, when magazines everywhere are printing stories about you – that may or may not be true – and you’re receiving thousands of letters in the mail each week from women you don’t even know and will never meet. Every time you step out of the house, there’s this image that is expected of you and being an actor, you have to live up to it, completely and totally, no matter if it is really you or not. And then you get to go home at night and shut the door and become yourself again and allow all of those fears and insecurities to come creeping back and you don’t know if you can keep putting that mask on. But you do. It becomes habit. And I can’t help but wonder if the real me will just disappear one day and I’ll truly become what everyone imagines me to be and the thought is something I would rather not deal with. Too scary. Too real.

I chewed through five finger nails before I finally climbed out of my car and headed toward the building.

Immediately through the doors there was a guard and a ticket taker. There were a few families in line and beyond the barricade I could see a group of students all chattering excitedly around their teacher. I felt ridiculous. I certainly wasn’t here for a tour and had no idea where to find Victoria if I did buy a ticket at $8.00 for adults to get in. I glanced over at the souvenir shop to my right but other than the patrons, there was just some young guy behind the counter. So obviously she didn’t work there.

Dammit, just go home, Orli, I told myself.

“Can I help you, sir?”

I turned to find the security guard approaching. Great, probably thinks I’m there to rob the place or something. “No, I – “

“You look lost.”

“I – “ Well hell, Orli, either say something or get the hell out of there! “I’m looking for Victoria Adams. Her uncle said she was here.”

“Torrie? Yeah, she’s here. I think she’s with the otters. Hang on.” He turned away from me, speaking into his radio. Then he suddenly inclined his head, indicating for me to follow him.

And I knew it was my last chance. Either I turn around now and hurry out the door or I follow him and possibly make a complete fool of myself.

I followed him, of course.

We skirted around the ticket counter, past the school kids and into an enormous foyer filled with life-size acrylic models of various sea animals and scores of pictures of ocean wildlife. It was fairly quiet as we walked through the building, passing two tour groups that were engrossed in what the tour guide was telling them and then into hallways that I knew the general public was not allowed to view. The further we walked, the sillier I felt. I had no business being there. Victoria would probably think I was stalking her or something. Or maybe that I was there to sue her after all. Shit, how do I get myself into these things?

The guard opened a door through which a shaft of sunlight appeared. He nodded his head. “She’s in there.” Then he turned and walked off, leaving me standing there, with the door open ahead of me and no idea how I could get out of that place. I had no choice left to me unless I was willing to wander back through the building until I found an exit.

Fuck. I moved forward and peered through the doorway. Four high walls, at least fourteen feet high, enclosed a room in the center of which was a deep pool. Overhead there was no ceiling except the light blue of the California sky with a few wispy clouds. To the back of the pool there was a fake backdrop of rocks, like the type of design you see in a zoo where they want the animals environment to look real, even if it isn’t. For atmosphere more than anything I guess.

“Is someone there? In or out, please. The door needs to be closed.”

Victoria’s voice. It seemed strange that I recognized it so easily. She didn’t yell but spoke softly, as if on purpose. I peeked my head around the door and saw her sitting at the edge of the pool, dressed in cut off shorts, black tank shirt and a baseball cap, her hair pulled through the loop in the back. She held an otter in her lap, her attention focused completely on the furry creature.

I licked my lips nervously. “Ummm… hey.”

She glanced up, staring at me blankly for a moment which made me feel about two feet tall and I really wished the ground would just swallow me up but then she smiled and it was one of those smiles that made you feel as if everything would be alright. You know how some people just have that kind of smile, a genuine one, that when they flash it at you, you know it is meant for you and it is real and not forced. She gave me that smile.

“Mr. – er, Orli, hello. What a surprise.”

I stepped inside and awkwardly shut the door behind me. I had no idea what to say or how to explain what I was doing there. I shoved my fists into the pockets of my jeans and rocked back on my heels, thinking I probably looked like a complete dork. God, what was I doing there?

“Ever fed a sea otter before?” She asked me. As I shook my head – as probably most people in this world would have done considering one didn’t just normally wake up one morning and decide to feed a sea otter – she waved me over to her.

And it was really that simple. Not that I suddenly knew how to explain my presence there but that she made me feel completely comfortable by just inviting me into her world. I knelt down beside her, watching as the fat, furry creature glanced up at me, immediately wary of my presence, his round black eyes studying me.

“Don’t make any sudden moves,” Victoria told me softly. “And keep your voice low. Sea otters are easily stressed so we try to keep them in as quiet and calm environment as possible. This little guy has gotten used to being held but doesn’t like strangers overmuch.”

“I could go if – “

She immediately shook her head. “No. It’s alright. There’s a bucket behind me. Grab a piece of the albacore in there.”

I leaned back, reaching my hand into the white bucket, wincing when my hand hit the cold, slimy substance. I took a piece between my fingers, looking at it with mild disgust. To think we pay high dollar for this stuff in restaurants.

“Pablo loves albacore,” Victoria told me, rubbing the otter’s belly.

“His name’s Pablo?” I grinned.

“Yeah. Doesn’t he look like one?”

I turned my head slightly, regarding the little creature as closely as he was me. She was right. He did look like a Pablo.

“Bring your hand to him slowly and hold the albacore on the tips of your fingers, keep them flat so he doesn’t accidentally bite you. And don’t jump if he grabs your hand with his paws. He is used to holding onto his food.”

I could swear Pablo was looking at me as if I were his “food”. I extended my hand toward him slowly, my fingers outstretched as my “teacher” had instructed. I stopped about an inch from Pablo’s mouth as his tiny nose began sniffing the air, inching toward the offered nourishment. True to Victoria’s warning, his paws came up and wrapped around my hand, his long claws cold against my skin, and looking terribly lethal. I remained still though as he pulled my fingers closer and nibbled at the albacore, finally pulling it completely from my hand into his mouth. I took my hand back the moment he let go, determined that Pablo not mistake my fingers as dessert.

When I glanced up at Victoria she was watching me with a sort of half smile. Her face was exactly as I remembered. Brilliant eyes fringed in long, dark lashes, a not-too-perfect nose that was slightly turned up at the tip, lightly dusted with freckles, and full lips that seemed to smile easily. She was prettier than I remembered. Not drop dead gorgeous like Liv or Alicia Silverstone or someone like that but arresting, like Kate Winslet. Too different to be labeled as a girl-next-door but also not the type that remains with you after the first meeting. What it was that drew me there, I couldn’t say. But there I was, sitting beside her while she held this sea otter named Pablo in her lap and we were feeding him albacore. If it hadn’t been me, I wouldn’t have believed it.

“I brought the clothes back to your uncle,” I told her, breaking the silence.

“You met Uncle Tony?” She smiled, leaning forward and gently lowering Pablo into the pool. He dove quickly under the surface and swam away from us. “He teased me mercifully about trying to kill you. When I told him you were English, he warned that Britain was our greatest ally and I had most likely screwed that up too!” She told me with a laugh.

I smiled. It was hard not to. She smelled like Coppertone again and the sea. “So what is it you do here?”

“You mean besides teach unsuspecting men how to have their fingers bitten off by sea otters?”

She stood and I couldn’t help but notice that she had long, shapely legs, finely toned. Swimmer’s legs. I continued to observe her discreetly while she grabbed the bucket, tossing some stray pieces of albacore into the pool, and concluded that she was nothing but soft curves. Briefly I remember the sensation of holding her when she had tripped on the boat. Quickly I forced myself back to the present as she continued to speak:

“The Center rescues injured or sick sea animals and we bring them back here, nurse them back to health and then either rehabilitate them back into the wild or prepare them for transfer to Sea World or a nearby aquarium, depending on the circumstances. We keep a few here for observation and teaching purposes. We’re a big attraction for area schools.”

“I noticed,” I commented, remembering the buses and tour groups. “So you work with more than otters.” I stood, following her toward the door.

“Otters, sea lions, seals, dolphins.” Victoria shrugged. “Anything out there that needs our help.”

She held the door open while I stepped out, then led me back down the hall through which I had followed the security guard. I was surprised that she had not yet asked me what I was doing there. Not that I minded. It removed the embarrassment of having to explain that I really had no idea why I had showed up out of no where with no reasonable excuse to see a person I didn’t know. And I think Victoria realized this and was doing her best to diffuse an already uncomfortable situation that I had created.

“Ever pet a sea lion before?” She asked.

“Yeah, just this morning,” I replied with a grin. I was relaxed. The smartass in me was emerging.

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Then I guess we can skip that portion of the tour.”

I opened my mouth to protest then promptly closed it. You get what you give, I suppose. I flashed her a half-pout and she laughed. Reentering the main building, she turned the opposite direction of the entrance, leading me toward the back of the building, closer to the sea. As we walked, Victoria explained the main purpose of the facility, where their funding came from, what sea animals they currently had as patients and those who were long-timers, her favorites of which were a pair of dolphins that had arrived there shortly after she began working there five years before. Listening to her talk, I realized she was a little older than I had first guessed – like myself, she was apparently plagued with appearing younger than her actual age. People liked to place me closer to nineteen or twenty as opposed to twenty-five. I was guessing she was likely twenty- seven or twenty-eight. Not that I would ask. I am far too much of a gentleman for that.

“What about sharks?” I asked when the conversation stilled for a moment.

“We get them here occasionally. You like sharks?”

I shook my head. “Terrified of them. But I figured the best way to face that fear is to confront it. I told Lij that I want to swim with sharks some time.”

Victoria laughed, casting me a sideways glance. “Swimming in a supervised environment with a group of sharks that are comfortable with humans is a far cry from encountering a great white in the middle of the ocean. I don’t see how that is a fear one could truly conquer.”

“Are you afraid of sharks?”

“No. Nothing about the ocean frightens me.” She paused, looking ahead for a moment with a frown, before adding, “Except drowning. Becoming trapped in a boat and watching the water rise around you, knowing you’re going to die and there is nothing you can do about it, there is no escape and no way to make it go more quickly.”

I grimaced. “Thanks for the lovely thought. I’ll be sure to send you the bills from my shrink for embedding that little phobia into my psyche.”

Chuckling, Victoria held a nearby door open for me – which was very gentlemanly of her and I told her so, which made her roll her eyes at me once again – and we exited the rear of the building. In front of us stretched an enormous pool, built directly out of the ocean by a manmade walled enclosure that was landscaped with boulders and rocks and two cascading waterfalls. High above those rose a chained fence, most likely built to keep in the sea lions which were stretched out on the rocks, lazing in the sun. A cemented patio led out to the pool, accompanied by a few tables and chairs, equipment bins and feeding supplies. There was some guy in a wet suit standing at the edge of the pool, watching two sea lions that frolicked in the water below him.

“Hey Scott,” Victoria called out.

He glanced back at us. “S’up, Torrie?” He cast a quick look at me then back to her. “How’s Pablo doin’?”

“Almost ready to go to his new home.” We moved up beside Scott and stopped. “Monterey is going to take him.”

Scott smiled. “They’ll give him a good home.” He patted her shoulder and directed his next comment to me. “She hates to give up her children.”

Victoria sighed. “Scott, this is Orlando Bloom. Orli, Scott Heywood, manager of the facility.”

We shook hands. “Orlando Bloom? Why is that name familiar?” He squinted at me in the sun.

“He’s a bit of an actor,” Victoria replied before I could think of an answer. I glanced at her but she was already kneeling down at the edge of the pool, catching the sea lion’s attention.

“Oh?” Scott’s eyebrows raised a notch.

I couldn’t tell if it was “Oh” as in “Oh, an actor…” or “Oh” as in “Oh, that’s cool”. So I ignored it instead, crouching beside Victoria when she tugged on the leg of my jeans. The sea lion dove under the water, swam smartly toward us then popped up close enough to make me jump a little. He barked loudly, as if in greeting. Victoria leaned around Scott’s legs, reaching into a bucket much like the one that she had fed Pablo from, and pulled out a couple of minnows. Lifting one by the tail, she held it out in front of her and the sea lion promptly leapt up from the water, snatching it from her fingers. She held one out to me and I mimicked her actions, laughing when the fish was greedily taken from me. Next Victoria held the fish up at the edge of the pool so that the animal was forced to swim closer to us. While feeding him with one hand, she patted his head with the other, inviting me with an inclination of her head to do the same. His skin was incredibly smooth and soft and he seemed to lean into my hand as I scratched the back of his head. It was a little daunting how unbelievably large the creature was and his teeth were nothing to joke about, yet he acted more like a friendly puppy than something with the partial name of “lion”.

“He likes you,” Scott commented from behind us.

As if in reply, the sea lion rolled over on his back and flapped his flippers at us, effectively splashing us both with water. Victoria and I fell back, attempting to escape the main portion of the onslaught and Scott laughed at us. I looked over at her and found she was watching me as well and it was very obvious we both had the same thought in our heads because we instantly burst into laughter.

“Why is it getting near you always involves me getting soaked, love?” I asked when the laughter had settled.

Victoria shook her head. “I was wondering the same thing.”

We laughed again.

I spent another hour with her there beside the pool, watching the five sea lions that were currently being rehabilitated by the facility, and talking. Victoria told me she had been born and raised up in the San Francisco area, growing up among a family of men that loved to fish and go boating. The sea and everything in it had been a part of her life as long as she could remember. It only seemed natural to major in oceanography at Scripps Institution of Oceanography, spending summers back up north working internships at Marine World in Marin County. She had been offered the position at the Center months before actually graduating.

It was fun to watch how animated she became when she talked about the animals and the work they did and some of the experiences she had. She truly loved her work and readily admitted she was more comfortable around animals than she was humans. I didn’t want to say anything that might embarrass her but it was my opinion that she was wonderful with people, considering how comfortable she made me feel. But we all see ourselves differently than those around us, I guess, and she obviously felt she did not have the appropriate people skills, which she blamed on her absent- mindedness. I thought she was probably just as insecure as I was but couldn’t bring myself to admit to such a thing.

It was amazing how quickly time flew by. I realized that by my presence I wasn’t allowing her to get any work done and I hadn’t even taken her to lunch! I found myself wanting to see her again but wasn’t sure how to ask. I pondered the question as she walked me back to the entrance, the conversation between us finally falling silent. But it was a comfortable silence, nothing that had me on edge or anything, like we were both simply in our own little worlds for the moment and had no intention of interrupting the other. I tend to “space out” a lot and I figured she did as well, from what her uncle had said. So it was nice to know I wasn’t being entirely rude when more than likely she did not even realize that I was as quiet as she was.

When we reached the doors, I figured I had nothing to lose but my dignity – hey, this is the way an actor tends to think – and I blurted out, “Would you like to go out sometime, Torrie?”

Nothing fancy, nothing romantic. Just there it was. This is me, are you interested?

Victoria sighed and I felt it like a hit beneath the belt. You know by people’s reactions what they are going to say to you. I knew this was a definite no. Rejection sucks. I can’t handle it. Think about it – lately I’m getting told daily I can have any woman I want. And so I finally open my mouth and she says no. It’s enough to make you find a dark hole and climb into it and never come out again. But before I had to hear that ever- damning word – no -- I hurriedly apologized:

“Sorry, love. I shouldn’t have asked that. I mean, here I appear out of nowhere at your work and – “

“Orli.” She placed a hand on my arm, stopping me.

God, I hate rejection. It physically hurts. I didn’t even want her looking at me, afraid she might see that I wasn’t really as nonchalant about it as I was trying to be.

“It’s not what you think,” she told me, then lifted her left hand, wiggling her fingers.

I don’t know how I hadn’t seen it. Maybe I had mentally blocked it from my mind. But the solitary diamond winking from her ring finger was kind of hard to miss now that she pointed it out. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

I forced a self-deprecating smile. “He’s a lucky guy.”

She shrugged. “Yes, well… Not sure if he’d agree or not.”

Now the silence was uncomfortable and I hated myself for being there. Hated myself for taking the chance and opening myself up for the rejection. You think I’d learn my lesson – let them come to me. So what if they really had no idea who I was and could care less. Being used was better than rejection. At least it meant you didn’t go home alone. Lonely. Dammit.

“Thanks for this afternoon,” I told her and meant it. “I had fun.”

Dammit, it had been fun.

She smiled and it almost seemed painful. Now I hated myself for making her uncomfortable too. I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. I don’t know why. I just felt I had to, and maybe it was a silent apology for making such a muck of things and maybe I just wanted to know if her skin was as soft as if seemed. And it was and the smell of Coppertone – of coconut and sun and sand – was even headier. And I stepped back and figured I would never see her again after that and I wished we could be friends at least but felt silly to even ask such a thing. So I knew I would walk away and try to forget about her and immerse myself in my Hollywood image once more.

“Bye Torrie.” I turned away.

“Orli?”

I hesitated, stopped, glanced back over my shoulder. “Yeah, love?”

“I still owe you that trip on my uncle’s boat.”

I tried really hard not to smile. It didn’t work. “You don’t owe me anything, Torrie.”

She smiled. Damn, she got prettier the longer I stood there. “I know. But the offer stands. When you’re ready.”

And there it was. Another invitation into her world. A hint that she wouldn’t mind being friends either. Maybe she saw something in me the way I did in her. Sometimes things are like that, two people are drawn toward each other even though there are a ton of conflicts between them. I just wanted to be a part of her world, and it didn’t matter which part. Today I felt grounded, and everyone needs that every once in a while.

Maybe one day I would show her what it was like to walk among the stars.

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