|Not Without My Future Husband
Author: Pixiestick-cc PM
Liz attends the 2012 Olympics and comes face to face with someone from her past she'd rather not. Will things end badly again in another textual message or can Liz look beyond the negatives to find the Russ to her Rebecca? Liz/WesleyRated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Romance - Liz L. - Chapters: 6 - Words: 12,950 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 05-21-12 - Published: 01-19-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7756172
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
There was a strong wind in the air and Liz had to make sure her dress didn't fly up again like it had earlier when that famous athlete had walked past. This being the 2012 Olympics it wasn't so weird to see a random Olympic superstars from the past walking nearby, but why oh why had Michael Phelps chosen the exact same moment as that gust of wind to make himself known. He just had to stop and pose for those nearby photographers and sadly their cameras were able to get a few snapshots of Michael smiling with a deranged Sally Field exposing her grandma panties in the background. At least that was the caption Brian Williams had attached to the link of her photo on TMZ when he'd sent it to her email.
Grumbling at the memory of Brian poking fun at her misfortune, Liz wondered why she was even wearing a dress. Dresses were for hippies and conservatives like the sister wives on Big Love. Those women didn't even believe in showing off their ankles. Well, at least the one who never wore make up thought that. Liz wasn't sure. It had been awhile since she'd marathoned the show while on a sugar high from eating too many pixie sticks. Regardless, Liz was a proud progressive, who would show off her ankles to any man that dared look, so this dress was just a big mistake. Of course, it all went back to a conversation Liz had with Jack minutes before she boarded the plane to London.
"Lemon, when you attend the opening ceremony, please try and dress in something other than your comfy sweats. It may be a sporting event, but remember you're not playing any of the sports."
As her bad luck would have it, all the outfits Liz had packed in her suitcase were athletic attire with multiple American flags bedazzled across the material so, after arriving late last night she'd gone to the first store that sold dresses. Now she was stuck with this ridiculous hippie dippy gown. Although, she couldn't forget the added bonus that was the layer of Spanx the dress came with. Really, it's what sold her on the outfit. She just couldn't pass up such an awesome creation as a dress that contained its own Spanx. Was there a Nobel Prize in fashion? If so then the designers of Spanx dress certainly should win one.
While the wind continued its attack against her, Liz had a difficult time hailing a taxi. How could she remove both hands from her dress long enough to signal she needed a ride when the wind threatened to reveal her unmentionables once more? "Nerds!" Liz shouted out at the invisible force causing her to remain steadfast and unable to hail a cab, "Why did I even come here to attend the Olympics?" She wondered to herself out loud.
Hadn't she vowed to say yes to life and staying in more? That had in fact become her life motto not so long ago and Liz had followed through with that resolution, but it was also made before her latest break up. After that, staying in without him by her side on the couch, watching Top Chef as they ate greasy Chinese takeout just wasn't the same. No, it was downright depressing and so, in a moment of half a bottle of wine tipsy she had said yes. Yes to going out more and in fact much father away … all the way to London. With Jack's help she'd been able to secure 1 ticket to the 2012 London Summer Olympics and went on a trip across the Atlantic to find herself. Rooting for her homeland in the process was just an added bonus. Although, it was becoming more apparent to her as the first day of her vacation wore on that this trip was nothing more than her running away from her problems back home. Wisdom should have taught her by now that fleeing her troubles never solved anything. She was Liz Lemon. Trouble could find her anywhere and that's exactly what it had done today in the form of this god-awful wind.
As if to add insult to injury, at a moment when she was spiraling into frustrated basket case mode, a limo pulled up beside her. She had been waiting on the side of the street, next to a dumpster and was more than a little annoyed at the large vehicle that was now blocking the cabs from seeing her. Liz was downright livid, but still had enough sense to resist the urge to kick the tire of the limo. Considering it may have belonged to Michael Phelps, she didn't want another example of looking like an idiot in front of a big celebrity to go on her resume.
She was just about to admit defeat and head off back into the venue where the Opening ceremonies had been held, when some force other than wind knocked into her and caused Liz to fall to the ground. Naturally, the way she landed on the pavement caused her legs to splay and exposed her panties once more. Uttering one of her favorite euphemisms for what the F word meant, Liz rose to her feet ready to push the man that had run into her to the ground as well and maybe just pants him in the process. She wasn't going to be the only underwear flasher at the 2012 Olympics, not if it could be helped.
Yet, as she looked over her offender, who was now placing his cell phone into one of the pockets sewn into his expensive three piece suit, the swear word she'd been planning to hurl at him dissolved into a drool. This rude man, who had been so distracted by a phone call and was in such a hurry to reach his limo that he hadn't even noticed her, was by all accounts gorgeous. Still, she had to focus. Gorgeous did not excuse being a dick. "Excuse me, sir. You just knocked me on the ground. I hope you have an apology for that." She said, trying her best to sound condescending like she was talking to Tracy or Jenna and not Mr. Sexy.
"Why yes, of course. I am dreadfully, dreadfully sorry for that. Are you alright?" The man asked in a British accent that Liz wanted to spill on the floor and lick up.
She was stunned into silence by his icy blue eyes peering into her soul, discovering secrets from her childhood that were locked away there. He waited for a response that Liz wasn't sure she could compose and when he eventually reached out a hand to caress her shoulder, she nearly fell to the ground again, "Yes, um, fine. I think. A few bumps, bruises and I may have trouble walking." She stated awkwardly, her voice sounding like that of a child just learning to talk or maybe more accurately, Kenneth during one of his Donkey spells.
Liz wasn't lying about the walking either as her knees were growing weaker and weaker by the second.
"Well, let me offer you a ride then." The man said gesturing with his free hand, the one that wasn't cradling her shoulder, to the limo, "It's the least I can do after being such a clumsy oaf. Honestly, how was it even possible for me not to notice you?"
The way he said you made Liz's heart do an unrehearsed samba and even though the upward pitch of his cadence on the word you was probably meant as a way of asking her name, she didn't care. You meant her and he was saying you as if he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed her, because he thought she was just as gorgeous as he was (Yes, this made absolute sense in her head).
"I'm Elizabeth Lemon, but most people call me Liz." She smiled goofily.
"Well, I'm not most people, but I'll refer to the name Liz since it is what I'm sure you're most comfortable with. Would you like to take a ride with me, Colin Firth and before you look at me with that peculiar stare I know you will, please know that no, I am not that Colin Firth. Bloody man stole my name."
Liz brushed this off using her famous Julia Roberts laugh, briefly remembering another British man from her past that also had the same name of a celebrity. Although, the man standing in front of her now was far more dashing than the one from her memory. "No, I'm perfectly fine with your given name, Mr. Firth."
"Alright then, shall we?" Colin returned her smile with one of his own that showed off a set of perfectly white teeth that nearly blinded her.
Liz entered the limo first and made a seat for herself while admiring the accommodations. She noticed various bottles of alcohol inside a large container filled with ice and a television just beyond that near the closed privacy window separating Colin from his chauffeur. Playing on the TV was a sitcom she remembered seeing last night in her hotel room. Chums. At that moment the theme song was playing as the six friends with umbrellas in their hands danced around Big Ben. Liz snorted. What a dumb show.
As her new gentlemen friend followed her inside the vehicle, Liz scooted across the leather seat to make room for him. "I hope you don't mind if we make a stop first before I take you to your destination. Seems my half brother had a little accident with his foot cycle and needs someone to pick him up. That's actually who I was talking to before our little accident. My baby brother the tree huger doesn't believe in owning a car, so he's always riding around on that foolish device. " He said completely unaware of Liz's open mouthed surprise.
"I'm sorry, but did you just say foot cycle?" She squeaked.
Colin was busy pouring Liz some champagne and handed her a glass of the bubbly wine before replying, "Ah, yes, I meant to say bicycle, but my brother Wesley is always making up terms for stuff. Ludicrous, but he's family, so I simply put up with it."