Emre kicked the random pebble on the paved road willing for his time with her to somehow pause, right here right now. He sneaked at glance at her, as she walked next to him bumping into him occasionally as they walked towards her house.
"Hey, question: why does your dad call your mum hayatim? I know hayat kinda means life in Urdu. Does it mean the same thing in Turkish?" she asked, her dark eyes glowing with a need to know more as she looked up at him.
"Yeah, it means 'my life'...I think something bad happened before the came to America. Dad, he...he never wants to talk about it...you know, about life before America, so I guess, we've all just stopped asking," Emre shrugged, watching Kiara nod her head thoughtfully.
"Hayatim," she repeats the word to herself in a whisper. She sighed deeply, "I love your parents. They are kinda amazing..."
Emre thought back to the way Kiara was shocked to know that the breakfast place that he was taking her to was actually his parents' bakery. They churn out hundreds of delicate pastries, decadent cakes, hearty breads, and elegant quiches for those hipster café boutiques all over New York each morning. Those small pop ups that didn't have space for a functioning kitchen let alone ovens. It was hard but honest work and more importantly both his parents took pride in everything they produced. Every single bag of flour, sugar, butter, even fruit was meticulously selected by them.
He will never forget the utter shock on both their faces when he sauntered in with Kiara trailing behind him with her wide eyed, nervous smile. He never told her that his mom and dad would be there; he knew she would have refused meeting them judging by the glares she kept shooting him covertly. He watched calmly as his mother tripped over her feet to get to Kiara shooting him questions in Turkish about their relationship and beaming as she spoke to Kiara in English. He knew by the apprehensive look from his father that he was bound to receive a lecture later at home, but he will bear it happily.
He didn't know why he took her there; he could have easily taken her elsewhere. But he did promise her the best breakfast, and nothing could beat the mouthwatering delicacies that came out from his mother's kitchen. He watched as Kiara carefully selected a salted Dulce de Leche cronut, her brows twisted in concentration. She had mumbled something to his father about liking the combination of sweet and salty before she took a bite into the cronut. Her eyes had fluttered shut in pleasure as she savoured the pastry. His throat constricted as she ate with slow movements licking her lips and sucking her fingers, relishing in the taste of the flaky, buttery pastry as though not wanting to waste even a flake of the cronut.
His mother had poured them some Turkish tea and they had sat crammed together around the small table tucked away at the corner of the bakery and chatted. He loved watching his mother fawn over Kiara; like she had known instinctively that Kiara was something special. Someone special.
Even his father had loosened up a bit as they talked. Kiara had managed to charm his rather reserved and quiet father into talking and chuckling with her. She had wielded her naturally happy disposition as a weapon and further embedded herself into his world unknowingly. And he could finally admit it to himself that Kiara was something more than a crush. She was so much more.
"Yeah, they are amazing," a hint of pride in his voice as he thought about how they had worked so hard their whole life for their children.
"And they are still so in love with each other," she sighed dreamily.
Emre couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his mouth, "Sometimes it gets a bit embarrassing really." He could feel the blush on his cheeks.
"Why?"
"Well, they obviously don't give a shit about PDA...," he trailed, glancing at Kiara and saw her tilt her head up at him. An earth-shattering smile on her face.
"I love it though."
"No really, it's embarrassing...like just now. They were hugging and kissing, while we were there. It was awkward," Emre grumbled lightly, rolling his eyes.
"Such a typical teenage boy," she laughed at him. "They're still in love after all these years, let them be," she said shoving him lightly on his arm. They walked both with smiles on their faces.
"It's better than the alternative," she said suddenly, her eyes pinned on her house that was a few doors away now. Without thinking Kiara had grabbed Emre's hand and pulled him into a small lane between the houses. She pulled him along until they emerged at a gated property. Unlocking the fence, she continued pulling him along.
"What is this place?" he asked in awe, surrounded by lush plants and tall trees. All that nature hidden in the middle of a housing area.
"It's like our communal garden thing...," she waved dismissively, her hand still holding Emre's as she dragged him along through the shrubs and flower gardens.
She pulled him to a bench and sat down finally releasing his hand. Emre fisted his hand and shoved it into his jeans pocket. He felt as though he was running out of time with Kiara. That each second that passed was a countdown of when she would have to go back home and instead he desperately wanted her to stay with him.
It sounded crazy when you really think about it. He had spent almost the whole night with her, and it still wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted more of those sneaky exchanging of glances. He wanted more of those laughs and giggles from her. He wanted more of those casual touches that showed that she was finally comfortable with him. He wanted more of her and he didn't know how to deal with it.
He watched her in silence standing in front of her, his throat going dry again as she sat on the stone bench with her legs folded Indian style on the bench as she raked her fingers through her hair taming it into a ponytail. Her lifted arms framed the slope of her neck, and he felt his palms itch. He palms itched to slide his hand up the curve of her neck as he buried his fingers in her hair. A need was growing in him; needing to feel the softness of her hair under his fingertips. He swallowed harshly wondering what kind of sounds she would make if he gently scratched at her scalp with his fingers entwined in her long black hair.
"I still can't get over that flavour profile though. Salted Dulce de Leche , who would have thought?" her voice pierced through Emre's daydream. Clearing his throat harshly, he looked at his feet and nodded.
"And that smell...the vanilla, rose, cinnamon, almonds, and butter...God, it was just ugh...," she groaned, a lush sound escaping her parted lips, as she fiddled with her hair. Not knowing that her simple actions were the ones that were driving Emre's mind somewhere else.
"Do you think they would make me something for my birthday if I asked?" she cocked her head as she looked at him, her fingers tangled in her hair as she braided it.
"What do you have in mind?" he croaked dry mouthed, trying to chase away the shocking turn his imagination had taken.
"I don't know, something with rose...and maybe cardamon...," she shrugged as tied up the braided ponytail. "What do you think?" she asked as she swished her braided ponytail around.
"You look good," he said offhandedly and was rewarded with a blinding smile from Kiara. He groaned inwardly, not ready for the wave of desire laced affection that washed over him.
Kiara huffed as she looked at her phone, as she fiddled with the cover. He knew her hesitance came from the fact that she didn't really want to go home. She was stalling, sitting here in this garden with him, but he didn't know why. He wasn't sure if it was because she wanted to spend more time with him or that she didn't want to face her parents.
"You okay?" he asked roughly, his hand automatically lifting to ruffle his hair. He watched as she shrugged bobbing her head side to side, not really meeting his eyes.
"Tell me what's wrong?" he gently asked, silently willing her to share her feelings with him once again.
"I...I...," she inhaled deeply. "I don't want it to end yet," she said, her eyes flicking back up to meet his behind her glasses. It was a clash of black and green, each sparking and simmering under the heat of their gazes.
"Come here," he said quietly, and he watched Kiara straighten up hesitantly on the bench, her brows furrowed in confusion. She pushed her glasses up nose as she uncrossed her legs, standing up and taking tentative steps towards him.
Pulling his hands out of his jeans pockets, he discreetly wiped them on his thighs. He watched as Kiara blinked up at him confused when he took a step closer. With painstakingly slow movements, so as not to startle her, he gently touched her hands with the back of his fingers and watched as her breath faltered. The confusion bled into a blush that coloured her pink as she looked at him with wide eyes behind her glasses. Gently he pressed her right hand over his heart. He watched as she dipped her head down to look at her hand that was cocooned in his palm pressing against his chest.
"What to end?" he rumbled, as his right arm in an excruciatingly unhurried manner vined around her waist. He felt her sharp exhale brush his neck as he pulled her closer.
"Today...," she breathed shakily. "I don't want this day...with you...to end..."
"Zeytin gözlüm..." he breathed next to her ear leaning against her temple, "...I don't want that either." He felt her body shudder in his arms and he bit back a smirk, clenching his jaw.
"What does that mean?" she asked breathily, her breath coming out in soft pants.
Emre took his time as he languorously trailed his left palm up her right arm. His fingers finally tracing the expanse of skin on her neck, as he felt his body tighten at the sensation. She was as soft as he had imagined her to be. Cupping her cheek, he angled her face so that he could look into her eyes.
"My olive eyed girl," he rumbled lowly, tipping her chin closer to him. He ground his teeth harshly as her eyelids fluttered shut, her rosy pink lips were parted and trembling, her skin warm under his fingertips.
"Kiara...I...," he felt her jump in his arms the moment her phone started ringing. She had pulled away from him but he still held her close.
"I...I...might need to get that...," she said shakily, both her palms pressed flat against Emre's chest.
"Yeah you might."
"It...It...could be...," she swallowed as her eyes kept searching for something in his gaze, "something...something important..."
"It could be."
"I...You...uhm...You need to let go now...," she said almost breathless as she bit the inside of her cheek. Instead of releasing her, he pressed her closer for a beat before loosening his arms around her. Just enough for her to fish out her phone from her coat pocket and she answered breathlessly. Her eyes still boring into Emre's green ones.
"Assalamualaikum Baba...Yes, I'll be home in a bit...Yes, I remember my promise to be on time...Okay, love you. Allah Hafiz."
"You need to go already?" he asked softly. Kiara nodded dumbly.
"Can I call you later?" he asked as he gradually tightened his hold on Kiara.
"I...um...I have practice...I...I...uh...I won't be able to answer...," she said stumbling on her words.
"How about text?" he trailed his fingers up the back of her neck. Beaming down at her when she nodded slowly.
They stood there in silence, as Emre allowed his fingers to roam the expanse of her neck, tracing her jaw noting how prettily she blushed. He felt like a painter, wherever his stroked landed it turned an enticing shade of pink.
Knowing that Kiara had to go and being aware of the treatment she received from her mother, he let her go reluctantly. He stepped backwards as he bit his lip, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to plaster itself all over his face.
"Thank you, zeytin gözlüm for last night. For staying with me," he said suddenly feeling a shyness taking over him.
Kiara nodded shyly, she was biting her lips as though she wanted to say something but was unsure. Emre took another step back, not really wanting to leave but having no other choice. As he made to leave, he felt Kiara's grip on his wrist stopping him midway.
"Do you...I mean...would you...would you like to come to the showcase on Saturday?" she looked at him with uncertainty all over her features.
"I mean...I know it can be boring and it's pretty tedious. It's a formal thing as well. And you might get really bored-" Emre shushed her by placing his finger on her lips as he bit back another smile.
"Do you want me there?" he husked and beamed when she nodded.
"I'll be there," he whispered, his fingers with a life of their own started tracing the lines of her jaw.
"There's a party after...," she said haltingly, as if needing to remind herself to breathe as he touched her with the most lightest of touches, "to sort of celebrate Carnegie Hall and my birthday..."
"Do you want me there?" he repeated, and she nodded dumbly.
He slowly and gently placed a lingering kiss on her cheek, feeling the soft gasp that left her lips. Inhaling the scent of her skin. Emre paused before he looked up, dragging his nose against her skin, his throat dry at just the mere thought of their closeness.
"I'll be there," he said swallowing harshly as he took a step back. "I'll text you later."
Emre backed away slowly from Kiara, watching the intensity of the blush grow on Kiara's fair skin. He couldn't help the chuckle when Kiara lifted her hands and pressed it on her flaming cheeks. He walked away with the memory of her soft skin against his lips and the lingering smell of her cherry blossom perfume.
"Oh my, wasn't that steamy?" Kiara heard an accented voice say melodically behind her.
She spun around horrified that someone had seen that intimate moment between her and Emre.
"I didn't realise you were out here this early, Mrs. Mui!" Kiara exclaimed. "You won't...you won't tell anyone...would you?" she looked at Mrs. Mui imploring her to understand her situation.
"I won't, if you tell me all about it," she giggled with childlike joy, her colourful silk robe fluttering about her as she adjusted her gardening hat on her head. In that moment, she didn't look the 60+ year old woman that Kiara knew her to be.
Kiara hid her face in embarrassment, stifling the giggles that were threatening to escape. That was no way to act in front of the ever elegant and classy Mrs. Mui who once upon a time was a Chinese Opera star in Hong Kong. Kiara could always hear her warming her vocal chords in the summers whenever she left her windows open and though she could hardly understand a word of Mandarin, she enjoyed the emotions her music evoked.
"Ah, young love. Always so beautiful to see," Mrs. Mui sighed longingly, sitting on the same bench Kiara sat minutes ago and patted the space next to her.
Kiara bit her lip, she knew that even if Mrs. Mui wouldn't ever admit it, she was lonely. The husband that she had left her thriving singing career for had passed away too many years ago and her three adult children barely had the time to visit.
Decision made, she sat down with a huff next to Mrs. Mui, "I really like him."
"Are you sure that's all dear?" Mrs. Mui said gracefully.
"Okay, fine. I really, really like him," Kiara rushed out, looking at her feet.
Mrs. Mui looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "Whatever brand of bullshit you are selling, I am not buying, dear."
Kiara gaped, mouth open eyes wide and huffed again, "Mrs. Mui!"
"Okay, fine. I think I love him," she admitted sullenly. Her fingers on her thighs tapping away nervously.
Mrs. Mui nodded, thoughtfully, "And what about him?"
"I don't know," Kiara swallowed the lump that gathered in her throat. "He cares about me. He notices things about me, even small things like the kind of flowers I like."
"Ahh, he buys you flowers?" Mrs. Mui mused as she nodded approvingly.
"I mean he did. Once. A few weeks ago," she said, smiling to herself as she thought about that morning.
"And what prompted that?"
"I think...he saw that I was having a bad week. But he didn't say that it was from him though, he insisted that it was from a secret admirer," Kiara huffed a little laugh, as she made to remove her coat feeling overly warm from the lingering flush and warm sunshine.
"That's the best kind of flowers to receive," Mrs. Mui mused, "from a not-so-secret admirer." The tilt of Mrs. Mui's pink lips made her look so much younger in that light surrounded by beautiful greenery.
"Do you think he likes me?" Kiara asked quietly.
"My dear girl, he looks at you like he can't quite believe that you are there with him. Like he is the luckiest boy in the world to have your eyes on him. I think might feel more than like," Mrs. Mui said with a wink, as she dusted invisible flecks of dust from her robe straightening up.
"Come on now, you have piano to practice and the garden is already calling my name," Mrs Mui said as she floated through the flower beds picking up her gardening gloves and getting to work.
A/N:
Zeytin gözlüm (ZEI-TINE GOUSE-LEUME) â My olive eyed girl. It is used for the girls with beautiful black eyes.