1 month later...
The phone rang, waking her up. Who could be calling at such an ungodly hour? she thought. Then she looked at the clock. It was a quarter 'til noon.
"Shit," she whispered to herself. She had been at a party the night before and was out until well after midnight.
"Hello," she said groggily, her eyes only half open.
"Hey, you sound sleepy," the man on the other end said, fully awake. And why not? she asked herself. She couldn't place the voice though. She kept digging and digging in her brain to find it, but she couldn't. It was kind of hard to think after you had a few too many beers the night before.
"Hey are you there?" Then, she knew who it was. What?! How'd he find my number? I didn't give it to him. And why?
"Are you who I think you are?"
"It depends on who you think I am."
"Who are you?"
"Harrison Ford."
"That's what I thought," she said calmly, although her heart was racing faster then it ever should be allowed to. "Why are you calling me?"
"Was I not supposed to?"
"I guess not, but how'd you get my number?"
"I looked it up in the phonebook," he said and she could feel his smile radiate through the phone. 'Stupid', she told herself. "Filming's done and I'm back in town. I was wondering if you wanted to get some dinner with me on Thursday," he finished. She looked at the calendar on the wall. It was Tuesday.
"You mean...like a date?" She asked trying not to sound excited, but not disgusted either.
"No, I just wanna get to know you a little better," he said, lying. He was disappointed now. Her heart sank as well, but not too much. At least she wouldn't be as nervous. Or so she thought.
"Sure I guess. Where?"
"At that little Italian place on 5th street. You know it?"
"Yeah. Sounds good. I'll meet you there."
"Okay, see ya Thursday. 5 o'clock."
"Okay bye." she said and hung up. She fell back onto her pillow and stared at the ceiling. 'What did I just do? Was that really Harrison Ford?' she asked herself, not believing what had just happened.
Thursday. What was she ever going to do to pass away the longest day of her life? The day just dragged on. She did everything to try and make it go by faster. None of it worked. She tried watching TV; nothing good was on. She tried going for a jog; it was too hot out. She even tried reading a book, something she never did unless she had to; she read 20 pages and didn't know any of the characters or what the heck was going on.
Finally, it was 3:30pm. Seeing that she was so anxious and couldn't wait any longer, she started getting ready. It was a good thing too. First she showered. Then she got dressed, but didn't like what she was wearing so she changed. She started putting her hair up, but looking in the mirror, she saw that what she was wearing made her look chunky, so she changed again. She didn't like the next outfit either.
By the time she found the right outfit, it was 4:15 and there were 10 different outfits piled on the floor. She hadn't put her hair up or done her makeup yet either. She put her hair up as quickly as possible, she had only 15 minutes, and put a little bit of makeup on. She didn't really like makeup anyway. Then she sped off to the restaurant
The night was a blur. She arrived 10 minutes late. She hated being late. Harrison was already sitting at a table waiting for her and he smiled as she walked in. The only other thing she remembered from that night was that he made her laugh a lot. So much that she got the hiccups, which only made her laugh harder.
"Here," he said, handing her a cup, which the waiter had just refilled, "drink this as fast as you can in one breath." He smiled. She took the cup and did so. While gulping it down, some water spilled out off the cup. She quickly leaned over the table and let the water drop on the tablecloth. They both smiled. Then he took a napkin and leaned over,
"You have some..." he trailed off as he wiped the water from her chin. His clear brown eyes looked into hers and smiled, his mouth not moving. There was still a little bit of water on her chin after he wiped it with the napkin so he wiped it with his finger. She was startled, but tried not to show it. It was another one of those moments like at the shoot.
His touch was so soft. Looking at his hands, your first thought was that he was rough, but then, as you looked closer, you noticed a gentleness you'd never though would be there. It was so soft, she almost cried. He sat back down and looked at her. Just looked. She looked down at her pasta and nibbled nervously at it a bit.
As he looked at her, he couldn't get over how beautiful she was, he didn't say it though. She looked so cute as she picked nervously at her food. He knew it was his doing and he smiled inwardly.
After dinner, they both walked out to the parking lot, awkward towards each other again because of what happed earlier. They said goodbye and went their separate ways.
As she drove home, she could still feel the touch of his fingers on her chin, and didn't ever want to let that feeling go. Then she got to thinking, If we actually became a couple, would I be able to handle it? All the other women, who I am so familiar with, that love him? Or so they say. Would I be able to handle him travelling all the time? Shooting movies? Going on interviews? Award shows? Appearances? Would I be able to handle not being near him for so long? She pondered those thoughts for a moment, I don't think I could. I can't do this. It'll never work. Despite everything she wanted, it couldn't happen. It just couldn't.
The next week, he called her again. Her throat tightened up. He asked if she would go to dinner with him again, as a friend. She agreed, but only because it wasn't a date. Right?
But he's picking you up this time.
That doesn't make it a date. Does it?
Why go through the trouble then?
I'm his friend. Why not?
Okay, but you'll regret it.
No I won't, she assured herself. She hoped she was right.
Friday night at 5:30pm, a knock came on her apartment door. She knew who was standing there, knew she couldn't handle being close to him but she opened it anyway. There he was, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked like a nervous schoolboy, on his first date. But it wasn't a date. No, it wasn't. She knew she was wrong when the first thing he did was touch the side of his nose. But she followed him out to his car anyway.
She should have known it was a date when she first decided to wear something pretty, something she didn't normally wear. That's when it's a date. He kept looking over at her then touching his nose again. He wanted to tell her how pretty she looked, but he had told her it wasn't a date so there was no way he was going to voice it. It was a date all right, one Julia knew she shouldn't have been on.
They went to a different restaurant this time. It was more expensive. She was just digging her hole deeper and deeper with every passing moment. She shouldn't have stepped out of her doorway-hell, she shouldn't have even agreed on the phone-but she did anyway. She just couldn't resist.
He took her to a French restaurant. She didn't really like French food that much-all fluff and no food-but ate it anyway. Harrison didn't like it much either, but it was something all stars had to do. And it wasn't too bad.
After dinner, and a pleasant one at that, Harrison drove her home.
"I'll walk you to your door," he said. Her apartment was on the second floor, but he came along anyway, and she let him. She knew it was stupid of her. She unlocked the door and was about to walk in, when he gently took her petite hand into his big one. She stopped short and turned to him, his soft touch running a chill down her spine.
"Let go," she said, literally forcing the words out of her mouth. She didn't him want to, but she knew he had to.
"Okay," he said softly, trailing his finger up her arm, her cheek, to her hair. He thumbed it lightly.
"You have beautiful hair," he said, looking into her eyes.
"I-I can't Harrison."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because I can't be with a movie star."
"That's why you like me." He paused, "You're scared."
"No I'm not," she said.
"Then what's wrong?"
"I-I like normal guys, Harrison," she said. His face was less than an inch from hers. She found it hard to swallow because her neck tensed up. His hand was still in her hair,
"I'm surprisingly normal," he said with a little smirk. Then he slid the hand that was in hair to her face kissed her. She almost cried. It was better than she ever imagined it would be. Those lips she had often lusted over were now softly pressed against hers.
Finally, he had taken some action and kissed her. Something he had wanted to do since the first time he saw her. This wasn't just another girl, she was something. And when he was near her he felt a feeling he'd never felt before and he liked it.
She was again amazed at how soft he could be. Every other time she had seen him, he'd been rough and hard. But not now. Now he was a young teenager again, relishing in the joy of his first kiss. Only it wasn't his first kiss, but the only kiss that ever mattered anymore.
She slowly, reluctantly pulled away and pursed her lips together. She could still feel the gentle pressure of his lips against hers, and wanted so much for him to kiss her again. But he couldn't. No he could. He had to. She didn't care if he was a movie star. He had to take her and kiss her forever and ever, but that was impossible.
She was going to ask him in, but despite her yearnings, she decided against it. She put her hands on his chest and looked into his eyes,
"You, um, you should probably go," she said. But neither of them moved. She loved the feel of his chest beneath her hands. They felt like they belonged there.
"Yeah," he whispered. He removed his hand from her face and took her hand in it. Bringing it up to his face he kissed it then turned around and left.
She just stood there in the hallway a minute, not believing what had just happened to her. Harrison Ford had just kissed her. She brought her fingers up to her lips and touched them. Wow, was all she could think. Just wow.
She slowly opened the door to her apartment and walked in trance-like. She walked over and sat down on the couch, letting her head fall back to look at the ceiling. What was I thinking, she thought. I can't be involved with a man who's away so much. I won't be able to take it.
But you love him, said that annoying little voice in her head.
No, I can't.
You do. She shut it out and walked over to the refrigerator to get a beer. She didn't normally drink beer. Only when she wasn't in the best of moods, like now. It was the only thing she could do to shut that voice out of her head as well. She took a couple of sips and changed into some pajamas. It was getting late. She finished her beer then went to bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.
As Harrison was waiting for the elevator, he suddenly turned around and headed back to Julia's apartment. Then he stopped mid-stride. He had just met her, just kissed her for the first time, it wouldn't be right. He forced himself to turn around and arrived at the elevators just as one opened. He stepped on and left.
The phone rang, waking her up. Who could be calling at such an ungodly hour? she thought. Then she looked at the clock. It was a quarter 'til noon.
"Shit," she whispered to herself. She had been at a party the night before and was out until well after midnight.
"Hello," she said groggily, her eyes only half open.
"Hey, you sound sleepy," the man on the other end said, fully awake. And why not? she asked herself. She couldn't place the voice though. She kept digging and digging in her brain to find it, but she couldn't. It was kind of hard to think after you had a few too many beers the night before.
"Hey are you there?" Then, she knew who it was. What?! How'd he find my number? I didn't give it to him. And why?
"Are you who I think you are?"
"It depends on who you think I am."
"Who are you?"
"Harrison Ford."
"That's what I thought," she said calmly, although her heart was racing faster then it ever should be allowed to. "Why are you calling me?"
"Was I not supposed to?"
"I guess not, but how'd you get my number?"
"I looked it up in the phonebook," he said and she could feel his smile radiate through the phone. 'Stupid', she told herself. "Filming's done and I'm back in town. I was wondering if you wanted to get some dinner with me on Thursday," he finished. She looked at the calendar on the wall. It was Tuesday.
"You mean...like a date?" She asked trying not to sound excited, but not disgusted either.
"No, I just wanna get to know you a little better," he said, lying. He was disappointed now. Her heart sank as well, but not too much. At least she wouldn't be as nervous. Or so she thought.
"Sure I guess. Where?"
"At that little Italian place on 5th street. You know it?"
"Yeah. Sounds good. I'll meet you there."
"Okay, see ya Thursday. 5 o'clock."
"Okay bye." she said and hung up. She fell back onto her pillow and stared at the ceiling. 'What did I just do? Was that really Harrison Ford?' she asked herself, not believing what had just happened.
Thursday. What was she ever going to do to pass away the longest day of her life? The day just dragged on. She did everything to try and make it go by faster. None of it worked. She tried watching TV; nothing good was on. She tried going for a jog; it was too hot out. She even tried reading a book, something she never did unless she had to; she read 20 pages and didn't know any of the characters or what the heck was going on.
Finally, it was 3:30pm. Seeing that she was so anxious and couldn't wait any longer, she started getting ready. It was a good thing too. First she showered. Then she got dressed, but didn't like what she was wearing so she changed. She started putting her hair up, but looking in the mirror, she saw that what she was wearing made her look chunky, so she changed again. She didn't like the next outfit either.
By the time she found the right outfit, it was 4:15 and there were 10 different outfits piled on the floor. She hadn't put her hair up or done her makeup yet either. She put her hair up as quickly as possible, she had only 15 minutes, and put a little bit of makeup on. She didn't really like makeup anyway. Then she sped off to the restaurant
The night was a blur. She arrived 10 minutes late. She hated being late. Harrison was already sitting at a table waiting for her and he smiled as she walked in. The only other thing she remembered from that night was that he made her laugh a lot. So much that she got the hiccups, which only made her laugh harder.
"Here," he said, handing her a cup, which the waiter had just refilled, "drink this as fast as you can in one breath." He smiled. She took the cup and did so. While gulping it down, some water spilled out off the cup. She quickly leaned over the table and let the water drop on the tablecloth. They both smiled. Then he took a napkin and leaned over,
"You have some..." he trailed off as he wiped the water from her chin. His clear brown eyes looked into hers and smiled, his mouth not moving. There was still a little bit of water on her chin after he wiped it with the napkin so he wiped it with his finger. She was startled, but tried not to show it. It was another one of those moments like at the shoot.
His touch was so soft. Looking at his hands, your first thought was that he was rough, but then, as you looked closer, you noticed a gentleness you'd never though would be there. It was so soft, she almost cried. He sat back down and looked at her. Just looked. She looked down at her pasta and nibbled nervously at it a bit.
As he looked at her, he couldn't get over how beautiful she was, he didn't say it though. She looked so cute as she picked nervously at her food. He knew it was his doing and he smiled inwardly.
After dinner, they both walked out to the parking lot, awkward towards each other again because of what happed earlier. They said goodbye and went their separate ways.
As she drove home, she could still feel the touch of his fingers on her chin, and didn't ever want to let that feeling go. Then she got to thinking, If we actually became a couple, would I be able to handle it? All the other women, who I am so familiar with, that love him? Or so they say. Would I be able to handle him travelling all the time? Shooting movies? Going on interviews? Award shows? Appearances? Would I be able to handle not being near him for so long? She pondered those thoughts for a moment, I don't think I could. I can't do this. It'll never work. Despite everything she wanted, it couldn't happen. It just couldn't.
The next week, he called her again. Her throat tightened up. He asked if she would go to dinner with him again, as a friend. She agreed, but only because it wasn't a date. Right?
But he's picking you up this time.
That doesn't make it a date. Does it?
Why go through the trouble then?
I'm his friend. Why not?
Okay, but you'll regret it.
No I won't, she assured herself. She hoped she was right.
Friday night at 5:30pm, a knock came on her apartment door. She knew who was standing there, knew she couldn't handle being close to him but she opened it anyway. There he was, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked like a nervous schoolboy, on his first date. But it wasn't a date. No, it wasn't. She knew she was wrong when the first thing he did was touch the side of his nose. But she followed him out to his car anyway.
She should have known it was a date when she first decided to wear something pretty, something she didn't normally wear. That's when it's a date. He kept looking over at her then touching his nose again. He wanted to tell her how pretty she looked, but he had told her it wasn't a date so there was no way he was going to voice it. It was a date all right, one Julia knew she shouldn't have been on.
They went to a different restaurant this time. It was more expensive. She was just digging her hole deeper and deeper with every passing moment. She shouldn't have stepped out of her doorway-hell, she shouldn't have even agreed on the phone-but she did anyway. She just couldn't resist.
He took her to a French restaurant. She didn't really like French food that much-all fluff and no food-but ate it anyway. Harrison didn't like it much either, but it was something all stars had to do. And it wasn't too bad.
After dinner, and a pleasant one at that, Harrison drove her home.
"I'll walk you to your door," he said. Her apartment was on the second floor, but he came along anyway, and she let him. She knew it was stupid of her. She unlocked the door and was about to walk in, when he gently took her petite hand into his big one. She stopped short and turned to him, his soft touch running a chill down her spine.
"Let go," she said, literally forcing the words out of her mouth. She didn't him want to, but she knew he had to.
"Okay," he said softly, trailing his finger up her arm, her cheek, to her hair. He thumbed it lightly.
"You have beautiful hair," he said, looking into her eyes.
"I-I can't Harrison."
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because I can't be with a movie star."
"That's why you like me." He paused, "You're scared."
"No I'm not," she said.
"Then what's wrong?"
"I-I like normal guys, Harrison," she said. His face was less than an inch from hers. She found it hard to swallow because her neck tensed up. His hand was still in her hair,
"I'm surprisingly normal," he said with a little smirk. Then he slid the hand that was in hair to her face kissed her. She almost cried. It was better than she ever imagined it would be. Those lips she had often lusted over were now softly pressed against hers.
Finally, he had taken some action and kissed her. Something he had wanted to do since the first time he saw her. This wasn't just another girl, she was something. And when he was near her he felt a feeling he'd never felt before and he liked it.
She was again amazed at how soft he could be. Every other time she had seen him, he'd been rough and hard. But not now. Now he was a young teenager again, relishing in the joy of his first kiss. Only it wasn't his first kiss, but the only kiss that ever mattered anymore.
She slowly, reluctantly pulled away and pursed her lips together. She could still feel the gentle pressure of his lips against hers, and wanted so much for him to kiss her again. But he couldn't. No he could. He had to. She didn't care if he was a movie star. He had to take her and kiss her forever and ever, but that was impossible.
She was going to ask him in, but despite her yearnings, she decided against it. She put her hands on his chest and looked into his eyes,
"You, um, you should probably go," she said. But neither of them moved. She loved the feel of his chest beneath her hands. They felt like they belonged there.
"Yeah," he whispered. He removed his hand from her face and took her hand in it. Bringing it up to his face he kissed it then turned around and left.
She just stood there in the hallway a minute, not believing what had just happened to her. Harrison Ford had just kissed her. She brought her fingers up to her lips and touched them. Wow, was all she could think. Just wow.
She slowly opened the door to her apartment and walked in trance-like. She walked over and sat down on the couch, letting her head fall back to look at the ceiling. What was I thinking, she thought. I can't be involved with a man who's away so much. I won't be able to take it.
But you love him, said that annoying little voice in her head.
No, I can't.
You do. She shut it out and walked over to the refrigerator to get a beer. She didn't normally drink beer. Only when she wasn't in the best of moods, like now. It was the only thing she could do to shut that voice out of her head as well. She took a couple of sips and changed into some pajamas. It was getting late. She finished her beer then went to bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.
As Harrison was waiting for the elevator, he suddenly turned around and headed back to Julia's apartment. Then he stopped mid-stride. He had just met her, just kissed her for the first time, it wouldn't be right. He forced himself to turn around and arrived at the elevators just as one opened. He stepped on and left.