Page 34 of Pomegranates and Olive

I drain my mug and scarf down a quick breakfast before hitting the shower to wash away any remnants of hangover (which I don't officially have) and run back to my room to change.

Okay. Boating.

I rifle through my suitcase and pull out a black bikini and a pair of Daisy Dukes which I slip on over the bikini bottoms. I choose a red tank top which has one of those hidden bras which makes my boobies look like bazookas and as a bonus can double as a bikini top, before quickly braiding my blonde hair into one long braid down my back. Glancing in the mirror I'm seeing a much better version of myself, and I admit, I'm beginning to really like who I see. Not too shabby at all. I apply deodorant, red lipstick, slip on my Converse and I’m ready for my first official adventure in Turkey (as any airplane shenanigans could never be construed as an adventure, merely poor judgment on my part).

Aydin drives me down on the cart to the jetty, and I follow him up the gangplank, carrying a box filled with food. I put down my heavy box and take a moment to look around my new ‘workplace’. Tora is surprisingly spacious. The main deck has blue cushioned seats that run down both sides that could comfortably seat ten people with a large wooden table in between. There's a hatch (is that the right terminology?) leading downstairs (Iknowthat's not the right terminology) and a lot of soft surfaces on the top deck for sunbathing. I grab my box and wait for instructions. "Galley is below deck, Liv."

Below deck.

I nod and step down, colliding straight into Deniz who catches me, grabbing the box out of my hands before I drop it all.

I can't look at him, but I can feel his eyes on me, and in the end, I can't help it. I drag my gaze up to meet his. "Hey."

I do NOT have the hots for Deniz Yilmaz, I do NOT have the hots for Deniz Yilmaz!

I don't.

Truly.

Keep telling yourself that, Olive!

He grabs the second box of food from Aydin and places it on the countertop. "So, how was your first night in Turkey?"

"Fine, thanks."

Other than my sexy dream with you as the headliner, that is.

"Was there any excitement? Anything to write home about?"

"Absolutely not!"

Why do I get the feeling that I’m the punchline to a joke that I’m several hours too slow to catch?

"You feeling alright? You're looking a little peaked. How will you cope with being on the water with your massive hangover?"

I pretend to be shocked at the idea of a hangover. "For future reference, it's just not possible to get a Russo drunk. We were born with alcohol in our veins."

I really need to quit drinking.

"I was just trying to loosen you up a bit. You're pretty uptight for someone wanting an adventure." Before I can hit him with a witty snapback… or my fist, he quickly changes the subject. "Do you eat fish?"

"I do."

"Great, because you're going to help catch them for lunch."

"I definitely eat fish, but I've never caught one."

Ginny grew up at Palm Beach, only a few kilometres north from us in Warriewood, so we were lucky to spend most of our summers at her house that backed onto Snapperman Reserve. With her father working and her mother AWOL, it was a world where kids really did rule the roost. We often rode Uncle Gary's tinnie, with my brother Leo at the helm, to one of the quieter coves around the foreshore in a half-assed attempt at fishing. Still, in all the summers that we spent there, none of us ever caught a thing.

"I guess we'll starve then."

"Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen." I wave my hand over the containers of food on the bench. "What have we got here anyway?"

"Shepherd's salad and a watermelon and white cheese salad." Deniz points out the dishes as he unpacks. "There's alsohummus,baba ganoushandkisir,which is fresh bulgur wheat salad. We've got some chicken kebabs to grill, and we'll cook a pasta dish for vegetarians as well as all the fish that you're going to catch, of course."

I look around the tiny galley kitchen. “And we’re going to do all of that here?”

“Easy.”

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