Page 54 of Pomegranates and Olive

"I love to read."

"You have walls of books and you quote Shakespeare, more than I do if that's at all possible!" I wave my hand at the bookshelves behind me. "Tell me something I don't already know."

"Alright. I run. In fact, I completed the Istanbul Marathon last year."

"Really?"

"Don't be impressed. " He moans at the memory. "It nearly killed me."

"Still, that's quite an achievement."

"I play guitar." I watch him beat the eggs in a bowl before transferring them to a hot pan. "I'm not good at it but I enjoy it."

"What type of music?"

"My teacher was American, so mostly American and English. The Beatles, Eric Clapton. I can play Billy Ray Cyrus."

"Be still, my beating heart!"

"You mean your achy, breaky —"

We both crack up at the same time.

"You're going to need a mullet haircut!"

"And tighter jeans."

Deniz grabs a wooden spoon and, using it as a microphone, starts dancing and singing in front of the stove. Well, I can’t help myself, and I join in dancing around the small table. A laugh sneaks past my lips and Deniz’s chuckles grow louder. Soon we’re both laughing out loud and dancing wildly around the room.

We eventually get ourselves back under control and grin at each other sheepishly. I return to leaning against the counter and Deniz goes back to the stove. “Billie Ray would not be very impressed by your moves.”

“Hurtful!”

I snort softly before changing the subject. "So, tell me about your tattoos?"

“Anything but the tattoos!”

“Please…”

"You’re lucky you’re so cute...”

“Damn lucky!”

“Fine. Each tattoo represents a moment in my life that I never want to forget. Good or bad, it is a lesson that I had to have." I've hit a nerve because there’s an edge to his voice as he points to his calf and a very intricate lion tattoo. "I got this one when I was eighteen."

"What lesson did you learn?"

"I learned that when I drink too much I end up getting tattoos."

"You're brave. I'm terrified of needles."

"Truth be told, so am I." He points to an elaborate tattoo that decorates his chest and arm like a tribal warrior. "I got this one last January after my non-wedding —"

I nod knowingly, which makes him grimace, embarrassment on his face reflecting what is a very painful memory of being left at the altar by his ex-fiancé. "It’s a daily reminder that I need to be smarter with my heart and to only give it to someone worthwhile."

I can't help but lean over and trace the lines. "It's beautiful."

He grabs my hand and holds it against his chest. "I need to say something to you."

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