"So, where's the party today?" asked Cameron as she wiped down the counter in front of her friend.

"MTV. I have the joy of being on TRL," said Whitney, smearing ketchup over her plate with a French fry.

"Better you than me."

"Why do you say that?"

"I always say that."

"But why about TRL?"

"I have no idea. You're an actress, I'm a waitress. What the hell would I have to talk about there? How to get the grease stains out of your apron?"

Whitney laughed. She didn't understand Cameron's attitude. She had a normal life. Relatively speaking if you ignore her past. She wasn't getting phone calls for interviews and movies, guest appearances on TV shows and whatnot. Cameron sat in her apartment clicking away on her computer and serving burgers to government workers at lunch time. She didn't have to worry about tabloids taking pictures of her fresh out of bed going outside to get her paper, or getting recognized on the street or followed for miles by the paparazzi. What did she have to complain about?

"You wanted this life, remember?" said Whitney.

Cameron gave her famous "You're crazy" look, putting her hand on her hip. "I don't recall wanting to be a waitress, spending all my time clogging arteries of the nation's obese and trying to find my way around my apartment through the paper maze."

"You had that modeling job..."

"That required me to show up practically butt naked everyday. You said you would do nudity if it were tasteful, or with someone gorgeous. Mine was neither tasteful nor had a gorgeous person within a hundred mile radius."

Whitney laughed. "So you waitress to pay for college."

"I use to waitress to pay for college. I waitress now because no one gives a shit how smart you are unless you have a degree. I flunked out. What the hell was I supposed to do? Kill myself in the middle of the court?"

"It's not your fault you had to spend so much time in the hospital. Get over it."

"Yeah yeah yeah. Easy for you to say."

Of course it was easy for her to say. Whitney had her problems, yes. Cameron knew they were nothing like hers. All the same they had this fight at least once a week. The actress and the waitress, friends since diapers, complaining about their lives.

"My life isn't easy," said Whitney.

"That's your fault," Cameron said, pointing at her.

"My fault?"

"You wanted to be an actress."

"You told me to go on that audition."

"I knew if I didn't you would say I didn't support you in your dreams."

"I would not."

"You would too. When I told you the first time I didn't think it was a good idea, you sulked for weeks. That's why I told you to do it. I get tired of seeing you mopey, wanting the super star life. Now that you have it, you complain about."

"I have no privacy."

"Again, your fault. I had nothing to do with it."

"Some friend you are," joked Whitney.

"Right back at ya."

Whitney sat in the green room at the MTV studios, wondering if Cameron had went home to her "maze of papers" yet. She was nervous. This was TRL. This was her audience. People her age and younger who lived on TRL like they needed it to breathe. She was the lead in the Britney Spears bio pic; Ms. Baby one more time herself. If they didn't like her, the movie was going to crash and burn. "Oh god," Whitney said, fearing the worst when she would be up on that stage talking to the VJ.

There was a knock on the door. It wasn't time for her to go on already was it?

"Come in."

And in they came. Whitney sat immobile at the sight of him. He stepped in, shutting the door behind him with a smile on his face. She nearly melted. He was "a flaming hot marshmellow" in Cam's words.

"Hi. I'm Orlando Bloom."

Yes he was. "Whitney Strickland."

"I wanted to compliment you on your work."

"M...my work?"

"Portraying Britney Spears. It had to be no easy feat."

If he only knew the half of it. "Yeah. It was a little challenging."

"Mind if I sit?"

"Sure. Go ahead." Whitney slapped herself in her mind. Stupid stupid stupid.

He sat barely two foot from her in a desk chair. "Is this your first time facing the firing squad of MTV?"

"Yes."

"It's not as bad as it looks. It's a bit intimidating but, not all that bad."

"Really?"

"You don't seem convinced," he said, still smiling.

"I believe you. It's just...nerve racking."

He laughed. Ah, he laughed. "I know. I've been here four times and still feel faint before I walk out that door."

Whitney laughed to herself. He feels faint. He's very British. She smiled. "So what are you here promoting?" She felt bad that he knew why she was there and she had no clue why he was there other than to be him-mouthwatering-self.

"Elizabethtown."

"Elizabethtown? Another back in time, costume wearing, sword swinging movie?"

"Actually, no."

No? "Really? What's it about? I'm a little out of touch."

"My character's father dies and he goes out to Kentucky for the funeral. But not before he loses his job and his girlfriend. Then he falls for a flight attendant."

"It really is a recent time movie. I thought Cameron was kidding."

"Who's Cameron?" he asked, keeping conversation with her.

"My friend. She's the entertainment news buff. She knows anything entertainment."

He nodded. As she sat staring at him, she thought it should be illegal to be so gorgeous and "marshmellowy good". There was a knock on the door.

"Mr. Bloom? It's time for you to go on," the person said.

He stood. "Nice meeting you," he said, holding his hand out.

Whitney stood, shaking his hand. "Same here."

He kept the smile on his face as he walked to the door. "Good luck out there," he said. "You'll be great." Then he was gone.

She collapsed on the couch as soon as the door closed. "Oh.My.God."

Whitney walked down the long hall with her personal assistant at her side, both silent. A voice was coming from the end of the hall but neither paid any attention to it. That was until the person the voice belonged to appeared around the corner.

"Hi there," Orlando said, smiling as always as he approached the two ladies.

Cindy, Whitney's assistant, nearly dropped her handful of electronical gadgets and coffee. She stood silent with her mouth gaping open. Whitney elbowed her.

"Hi," Whitney returned, stopping in front of him. He was blocking their way.

"So, how did it go out there?" Orlando asked. "Did they murder you?" He brushed a lock of hair away from his face.

God, his hair is so gorgeous, Whitney thought. She eyeballed him.

"Whitney," he said, bringing her back to reality.

"Yeah?"

"How did it go?"

"It went ok I guess," she smiled nervously.

"I'm sure you did great," he assured her. He crossed his arms trying to hide the fact that his hands were shaking.

Whitney saw this and asked him "Are you ok?"

"Oh yeah. I just get nervous when I'm around beautiful girls," he said mindlessly.

She smiled. Orlando blushed and rubbed his cheeks. "Oh lord I just said that out loud didn't I?" He kind of chuckled as he looked down at his feet then back to Whitney. He smiled at her. "I'm sorry, it just kind of came out."

"Word vomit," she smiled back at him.

"Word vomit?" he asked, confused. "What's word vomit?"

"Uh," Whitney said, trying to think of a way to explain it to him. "It's when you think of something and then say it without thinking."

"You're strange, you know that?" he asked.

She was feeling more comfortable with him now that he called her strange. "You aren't the first person that's told me that. You probably won't be the last."

"Oh really?"

They stood in awkward silence after that, passing glances and nervous smiles back and forth. Whitney broke the silence. "I really need to get home," she said.

Orlando half smiled and moved aside, gesturing for her to pass by him. As she walked past him, dragging Cindy along behind her, he turned to them.

"Hey," he called down the hall.

Whitney stopped and turned around to look at him.

"Do you want to go get some coffee or something?" he asked her.

She shook her head in disbelief. "What?" He was kidding right?

"I just wanted to know if you would like to get some coffee or something," he repeated.

Whitney turned back to look at Cindy. She nodded at her. "I'll meet you at Cameron's later."

Whitney smiled at her. "Good." She turned back to Orlando as he neared them. "Alright. Sure."

They left Cindy standing in the hall of the MTV building and walked outside together. Once to the sidewalk, Whitney signaled for a taxi. A taxi crawled to a stop in front of them. Orlando reached it first, opening the door for her.

"After you," he said to her.

"Thank you," she said, getting in and scooting over.

He got in behind her.

Where to ma'am?" the driver asks.

Whitney looked to Orlando. He shrugged. "I don't know anything about New York. Do you?"

"Yeah, I know a little about the city. Café Latte," she said to the driver. "I hope you like this place," she said to Orlando.

"I think I will."