Page 27 of Pomegranates and Olive

"Aaaarrrgghhh!"

It’s Betty. He growls good morning before returning to his new favourite pastime... spooning me, his tail continuing to slap firmly against my leg. I push him off. "Get away, you beast!"

This time he emits a deep rumble from his chest. I've offended him. He shakes himself awake, glares at me condescendingly, before stretching and lopping away, tripping over his own feet as he stumbles down the stairs.

I've been judged by a giant Kangal, and I don't think I came off too favourably in his eyes.

This is how far I've fallen.

But onto more important things, what the fuck happened last night?

I search my foggy brain for answers about just how I ended up in nothing but my undies and — I examine the t-shirt I’m wearing — oh God — a Justin Bieber t-shirt. Where the fuck did I get a Bieber t-shirt from?

Focus, Olive.

What do we know about last night?

Going by my hazy memories, it can safely be said that Ginny and I may have had a little too much to drink as we sat at a table at the restaurant with her friend Aricia, catching up and watching Aydin work.

Aydin is the absolute whole package and then some! Gorgeous, obviously. Semi-famous (at least to the locals anyway). Amazing chef. But also, just a great guy. He charmed and schmoozed every table, thanking his guests and asking for feedback on their meal. He filled water glasses, mades suggestions, and was generally attentive and generous with his time when he wasn't working in the kitchen.

The guests loved the attention and had nothing but praise for the food and the service. It was easy to see that the staff respects him. The whole place really seemed to run like clockwork.

Occasionally, Ginny was called in to help with a problem or to cover a staff member who needed a break. Seeing my cousin as she spoke to the patrons, she impressed me with her knowledge of the menu and even her spouting Turkish phrases like 'afiyet olsen'or 'iyi aksamlar' as she passed tables, alleviated any of the concerns I may have had about her living here.

She has fully embraced this new life of hers. Gone is the sometimes-awkward girl I played with as a child. She has been replaced with a strong woman tackling issues head-on and doing what she loves.

Good on you, Ginny!

I also got to witness Deniz flirt with every single woman at the restaurant, sliding cocktail after cocktail across the bar with confidence. Everyone was captivated with the gorgeous Deniz Yilmaz, except for me, of course.

Keep telling yourself that, Olive.

I tried to hide from him during my one trip to the bar last night. Yeah, nope. Didn’t work. At least he stopped flirting with bimbo number seven to come and talk to me.

"Did you know that drink is a great provoker of three things..."

I put my hand up to stop him. "If we're going to be misquoting Shakespeare, I much prefer 'alcohol provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance'."

"I can promise you, Russo, alcohol does nothing to diminish my performance."

I snort into my third (or was it my fourth) Negroni, the ice clinking before I tip it back. "Sure thing, stud."

He leans over the bar and whispers in my ear. "Tell me you want me."

"In your dreams."

"It will happen. Right here. On this bar, maybe."

I can’t decide whether I want to punch him, or kiss him. "You have a dirty mind."

"No, I have a sexy imagination."

It was after midnight by the time the final patrons left. We were finally able to sit down with Aydin to eat. Aricia's husband, Burak, brought over a large platter of lamb cutlets which he placed in the centre of our table, while both Aydin and Ginny had their arms full with side dishes and different salads and roasted vegetables. Deniz finished cleaning the bar and, after grabbing a couple of bottles of wine, and the hand of this evening's conquest, slid into the seat beside me with a grin.

"Everyone? Meet Eve. She's a new friend of mine."

Eve.

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