Mr. Right (now)

Chapter 2

Dirtbag #1 (part 2)

"Do you want something to drink or..." Ozgur lets his question trail off and takes a seat at the arm rest of his sofa, figuring this could be a while. The strange girl from the bar waves him off.

"No, no," she continues to pace a circle around his coffee table. "I wanna do this sober."

Ozgur nods, feigning serious agreement. He didn't really have the heart to tell her he had no intention of feeding her any more alcohol regardless. She was enough of a menace as it was. Sure, she was beautiful, but he should've known he was in for it the moment she started rattling off way too much personal information at the bar. Even his forward advances didn't scare her off. And if that hadn't been enough of a warning, there was the fact that she literally threw herself at him in the parking lot. He should've known right then and there she was trouble. Instead he'd clutched to her like a drowning man finding a lifesaver and taken her home. Far be it from him to reject a beautiful girl who kissed him the way she did.

"We don't have to do this, you know. If you don't want to," he says soothingly. He means it. He could turn back now, call her a taxi and never see her again. He might even prefer that, come to think of it. But she's already shaking her head.

"No, I do. I just...I'm a little nervous."

"You don't say."

She comes to a stop in front of him and looks him in the eyes. With him sitting, her petite frame is at eye level with his. She fixes him with a wide-eyed, amber colored stare.

"Well, I mean, do you want to?"

He lowers his head with a laugh and then peers back up at her through his lashes. He's aching, throbbing, to devour her whole but he's keeping his cool for her sake. He reaches up to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand and pulls her a little. She stumbles forward in between his legs and he leans in, soaking up her scent that he could smell even back at the bar. With the crowds and the smoke and the booze all he could smell was her.

"What do you think?" He asks her with cheek, and presses a kiss to her neck, and then another. She throws her head to the side, making pleased little noises that are going to be burned into his brain for a long, long time. Just as he moves one hand to push down at the strap of her top, she squeaks.

"Oh! Is that your view?"

He throws his head down, face into her shoulder in exasperation. What  is it like in this girl's head?

When he picks his head up with a sigh, she's moving quickly away from him towards his window. He follows and yanks open the curtains.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs and he forgives her for her easily distracted mind because her eyes absolutely sparkle when she looks out at the city. Like all the lights of Istanbul are reflected in them.

"The place is a shit hole, but the view is worth it."

"It's not that bad," she replies, looking around at his little flat and he shrugs. "Do you live here alone?"

He shakes his head. "I have a flatmate. But he's in France taking a summer course. He's studying to be a chef."

"You're lucky to have a chef as a flatmate. Means good food."

"Hey, I'm a good cook!" He defends and she laughs.

"I love to cook as well," she starts babbling. "I think in another life I might've been a chef myself."

"Hmm," he muses and takes the opportunity of her loosening up to pull her in close and kiss her. She had been so sure of herself before but he knew that was all the adrenaline of whatever emotions she was feeling at seeing her ex.