The Beginning

Ch. 65 - The quiet

*"How do you do it?" entertainment writer, Robert Lancaster, asks, during another sit down for the press, casually sweeping his hands over his shoulder at the small crowd of gathering onlookers.

*"I'm Mickey," he shrugs, "they don't know who's inside the suit."

"But you're a movie star," Robert argues.

"So's Mickey," Keanu laughs.

Robert would later write in his feature on Keanu: Reeves is clueless about how big of a heartthrob he's become to his fans, after witnessing his unmistakable chemistry with Sandra Bullock in Speed.

When the writer informed him he'd just been voted "Most Romantic Hero of 1995" by Romantic Times magazine, he falls silent, his gaze dropping along with his voice. Shoving his fingers through his unkempt mane, he doesn't pretend he feels the need to fill the void with meaningless words. He rubs his palm up and down against his opposite arm, before leaning back with a slouch and chuckling to himself. He remained detached through the next several questions, clearly uncomfortable, until Robert brought up plans for Speed 2 and the possibility of reuniting with his co-star, Sandra Bullock.

*"If we do a sequel, I think Sandra and I have to be married." He leans forward in his chair, at last, eyes aglow. "I think we should be on our honeymoon and something happens. Maybe we could get stuck on a hijacked ambulance. Or wind up in Europe on the Autobahn."

When the last of these torture sessions with reporters ends, he retreats to his trailer where he spends most of his time reading and rereading her letters. Tracing the curve of her jawline in the photo collage, he curses himself for not bringing more photos along.

Now then, I believe you had some ideas for how to soothe my Chicago chills? I will need to hear more about your plans before I'm able to accept or decline. I'm sure you understand...

He leans back on his futon, folding his arms behind his head and letting his lids droop lazily down. He can almost feel her still lying atop his chest, the touch of her skin jolting his senses. Even in his daydream, she can tease him with the promise of her body. When he held her in his arms for the first time, the real first time, when she'd shown up on his doorstep, chewing on her lower lip, eyes darting side-to-side, he felt different inside. His hand tingles as he remembers her thin linen strap and the satin of her skin sweeping under his fingertips. He'd had to fight to maintain his composure and not tear the frock off of her right that second. When she laced her fingers through his and pulled him back toward his bed, he couldn't have imagined what would come next: not the intimacy, that was something he'd been imagining with her for months, but the way the moon lit up the curve of her breast when she finally dropped that god-forsaken dress to the floor. The way the hair on his arms stood on end when he tugged at her hand and she acquiesced, extinguishing the space between them. When she pressed herself against his length, he felt a fluttering along with the pooling of warmth. He lifted her thighs up over his hips, then, her hands wrapped tightly around his neck. She swallowed his breath as she pressed her hungry lips against his and he thought he might fall to the floor instead of the bed behind him. He grew so increasingly dizzy in that moment, it actually scared the hell out of him. It was more exciting than his fastest ride through Topanga Canyon.

But then, she'd stepped back. She pulled away, leaving his head spinning in Paris, yearning to bring her close to him again, determined to have her close to him again.

He smiles, eyes fluttering open. That's it, he insists to himself. He just had to wait, to be patient.

As days passed, he'd begun to flub a line here and there, his attention on the clock as he waited not-so-patiently to get back to the front desk of his hotel and ask if there'd been any mail. Keanu isn't one to worry, generally, but it'd been a couple weeks now and he hadn't heard from Sandra. The nervous ache grew larger, but he stuffed it down and continued to wait. Continued to write. He'd wait out her doubts and her self-sabotage and just. Keep. Writing.