Here is, though, chapter 2.
CHAPTER 2 - Orli is short for Orlando
"So. I'm Orli. What's your name?"
Leila regarded him blankly. "Orli?" was all she could think to say.
"It's short for Orligautorous."
"What the hell? Orligomporo-whatever--what?" Leila closed her mouth, and then stated, very bluntly, "You must be joking."
"Fine, fine, it's short for Orlando." He grinned. "You have to admit, though, Orligautorous would be a fine name. Wish my parents had thought to name me that instead. Orligautorous Bloom. ...Would have been hell learning how to write my name, though," he reconsidered, with a moment's afterthought. "I already had enough trouble learning how to write 'Orlando.' I must have been a rather dense child. Always got my 'n's and 'm's mixed up, and I had a habit of switching my 'd's and 'p's as well."
"Wait, so what was it? Orlampo?" Leila made a face, but her features broke into a laugh when she said it.
Orli's grin widened at her laugh, and he took another sip of his drink. "On the bad days, yes." He lowered his drink. "But you still haven't told me your name."
"It's Leila," Leila answered.
"Not short for anything, I assume?"
Her mouth twitched. "No, I'm pretty sure it's just Leila."
"Well, I like it that way."
"Thanks, I like it that way too," Leila replied, returning his grin.
"Nice to know we're at an agreement." He tilted his head, observing her for a moment, before grinning again. "You know, I think we could be friends."
It was five notably shorter-feeling minutes later that Leila found herself sitting across from her newly (and self-proclaimed) "friend," feet fighting from under the small table for foot space with someone who obviously, and very irritatingly, had longer legs than she did.
"So, quick recap." Orli leaned further back in his seat, stuffing his hands into his blazer pockets, smiling faintly when she scowled as his feet violated her space again. "Your name is Leila, short for nothing, originally from California, but now a pre-law student at Kings College, and you have a terrible habit of coming up with acronyms for absolutely everything."
"No, I'd rather not," Orli said politely, folding his arms behind his head, his feet inching further forward.
Leila looked under the table, a glare forming when she saw that his feet were nearly under the legs of her chair. "You know your feet are becoming rather annoying," she told him, looking back up.
"In fact, I'd say they were bordering downright rudeness and ungentlemanly behaviour--"
"I need more room."
Leila stared at him in brief astonishment. "I want to have my feet under this table too, you know!"
"But my legs will cramp," Orli complained.
"Just because I'm shorter than you doesn't mean I don't want to stretch my legs too!"
"Whatever happened to respecting your elders?"
"You're only a few years older than I am! And sharing is caring," she shot back, continuing with the adages.
"But I don't care-- ow! Bloody hell, did you just kick me?" His hands went to steady his chair before he tipped over.
"I don't know, did it feel like a kick? Stop moving your feet around!"
"I'm trying to find somewhere to put my feet!"
"Sorry." But his lips quirked upwards. "Here." He crossed his legs, successfully taking up the little space she had left for her feet under the table. "Better?"
"Do you want me to kick you again, or something?"
"Quite frankly-- OW! Watch it!" Orli grabbed the base of his chair to stabilize it again.
"MOVE IT, Orligomporous!"*
Orlando brought his hands up from the clutch he had on the seat of his chair, stopping completely to face Leila. "I'm sorry, what?" She couldn't read his expression fully, but it looked like something along the lines of astonishment and deep affrontment. "Orligomporous?"
Leila glared. "Yes, Orligomporous," she repeated, booting him in the shins again.
Orli scooted quickly away. "Hold on, hold on. Orligomporous? How in the blazes did you come up with that? Never mind, I don't care. Say my name."
He frowned at her. "Umm, no." He sighed. "Let's try this again. Say my name."
"What the hell? Orlimogoaplofer!"
"Orlimogoaplofer," the Brit repeated slowly. He sighed again, in the manner of deep resignment. "All right. Just tell me how-- how you get worse and worse with each try."
"You're asking me?"
"Good point. All right, one more time. Orli-got-tore-us."
From his position two feet away from their table, Orli looked skyward. "Oh why."
"You know," Orli said later, from the table next to hers, "I don't think I've ever regretted making a joke more than I have today."
"You're welcome," Leila replied, stretching her legs out under her table.
"So, where are you headed after this?"
Leila stopped drinking to glance at the man at the table to her left. Was he going to follow her out? She knew they'd been talking for the last hour, but leaving with a stranger... Jenn would not approve. And Jenn always had good advice. She frowned, just for Jenn, and tried to picture him as a psychotic killer. She just saw the image of him scuttling around the coffee shop, hands on the base of his chair. She bit down a grin.
"It's all right, think with the speed of a turtle-- or is it tortoise?-- but go on, ponder it out. I've got all the time in the world while you think at this agonizingly slow pace--"
"Shut up." Leila rolled her eyes and turned around in her seat, facing Orli. "And to answer your question, I don't know. I don't really have a set schedule to follow on weekends, though I was planning on getting some Christmas shopping done today..."
"Excuse me? 'Excellent?'"
"You can help me find a present for my sister, Samantha. We'll go shopping together! And it'll be in a public place, so it's not like I'd be able to kill you if I happened to be a serial killer. Which I'm not, by the way. But I like you, and you can help me find Sam's present. You remind me of her, in a way. Slightly less sane, but I can see a slight resemblance in personality. "
"Wow, after a compliment like that, how can a girl refuse?" Leila said sarcastically.
"Did I ever tell you how radiant you look today? 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? For thou art far more lovely and temperate. I-- erhm, ah."
"Oh, I'm in love now."
"Fine." He grinned. "Where to, then? Harrods? It's just a few minutes walk away on Brompton Road."
Leila balked. "Harrods... is expensive."
"Ah, yes, and you're a pinchpenny, I remember you telling me that." Orli frowned for a moment, before throwing his arms out and losing his frown. "Wait a minute. No worries! I'll just pay for you if you need it."
"You're not going to pay for me," Leila argued. "We hardly--"
"If you need it, only if you need it," Orlando reassured, standing up from his chair and throwing his blazer back on. "Like if you're a few pence short."
It would be amoral if she said yes. She stood up. "Okay."
"Lovely." He beamed a smile at her, and then bent down over her table, and capped her lid onto her cup, then handed her frappuccino to her. "Cap's on, let's go."
*I wish I could say otherwise, but this entire Leila-not-being-able-to-say-Orligautorou
"[Filled] with Orlampgodorous (SP?!?!?!) love, LEEI"
"You already know what I think of the Orligomposrous..."
EDIT: And then, two minutes ago:
[leila] says: I JUST SAW YOUR ENDING
[leila] says: HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA
[jenn] says: which one?
[jenn] says: the post?
[jenn] says: or the end of the fic?
[jenn] says: hahaha
[leila] says: the post
[leila] says: hahahahahahhahaa
[leila] says: you found my olrigotators!