Ender's Love - Chapter 6
NB: Read Chapter 5 here: https://steemit.com/writing/@penny-rose/ender-s-love-chapter-5 and read previous chapters too.
"How's the laptop?" Scott asked.
"Oh!" I looked up from my glass of coke, feeling highly embarrassed that I was drinking a coke while Scott was drinking another glass of whiskey, while tucking into some beautiful breads and cheeses he had ordered.
He had taken me to this wonderful Mediterranean restaurant. It was the exact same restaurant that was next to the bar I first met him in. And it looked just as wonderful on the inside as it did the outside. White washed walls from the middle up, the lower half was a wonderful dark brown wood, a beautifully decorated mirror was on the far side. The mirror had caught my attention because I had caught our reflections as Scott and I had walked in. He looked striking from his reflection too, and I looked nothing in comparison. I was still in a daze that he was taking me, of all people, here. Especially after seeing his ex, who was that beautiful blonde in the pub.
"Was it water logged?" he asked, before taking a bite from a bit of bread after putting a bit of cheese on top of it. It actually looked amazing and I was starting to feel really hungry.
"Oh, no, luckily it wasn't. Although I left it to dry all night next to my radiator anyway, before starting it up in the morning, but no damage."
"That's good." He smiled politely.
I nodded nervously not knowing what to say, so instead of staring at him I tried to look away and found myself staring at the breads and cheese he deliberately placed in the middle of the table.
"Help yourself if you're hungry," he said. "Or would you prefer something else?"
"Oh, no!" I snapped my eyes up to him. "I'm fine, thanks."
"I promise you the food in here is good, might not be as good after new management took over my grandmother, but it's still good nonetheless."
"Your grandmother? Did she own this place?"
Something flicked across his face, like he wasn't aware that I had no idea his grandmother used to own the restaurant. He nodded. "After my parents moved up to Scotland ten years ago, my grandmother decided to move up too. She was always keeping herself busy. She hated being bored. So with the money she had left over from the sale of her house, she bought this place and turned it into a Mediterranean restaurant. It was only a café at first, until my dad convinced her to turn it into a small restaurant so she could cook, she loved cooking."
"Is your grandmother from the Mediterranean then?"
Scott's face looked a little grey suddenly. He nodded and sighed. "Yeah, she was."
I heard the 'was' and realised that his grandmother was no longer alive and I suddenly felt guilty for bringing up a conversation about his dead grandmother. I felt like reaching out to him and touching his hand to comfort him, but I didn't want to give him the wrong impression. Well, I did. But I was too nervous to really do anything.
I also had to admit, I understood where he got his looks from now I realised he was at least partly Turkish.
"She actually only died a few weeks ago, but she was really sick for a while. She had to sell this place because she couldn't afford to keep it while she was unwell. She was adamant that she was going to get better and get back to cooking, she hated just lying around. But dad convinced her a while ago to sell the place."
"Oh, I'm sorry!"
He smiled weakly. "You weren't to know."
"I know, I just assumed and I shouldn't."
His smile suddenly went mischievous. "Like assuming I'm just some guy who's looking for whore to hook up with?"
My face dropped and Scott laughed, but stopped abruptly when we heard someone drop a fork next to us. He had accidentally said that a little too loudly and the couple of old ladies sat next to us looked utterly shocked at Scott. One of them muttered under her breath, but I didn't understand a word of it as it appeared to be in a foreign language.
Scott just leaned over and said, "Özür dilerim," and the two ladies looked shocked at him but smiled weakly and nodded happily at him.
I looked at Scott as he came back to the bread and cheese and started eating some more. I was impressed, I had no idea he could speak another language, and it just made my cheeks flush even more.
I leaned over the table slightly and whispered, "What did you say to them?"
He swallowed his mouthful of bread and ushered me to come closer. I hesitantly obeyed, moving my drink out of the way so I didn't knock it over and he leaned forwards himself to whisper into my ear, "She practically called me an ignorant white man in Turkish, so I asked for her forgiveness back in Turkish. I don't think she was expecting me to understand her." He laughed.
I was too mesmerised by the smell of him and how impressed I was of him to laugh back, but I forced a small laugh to copy his and he leaned back in his chair again, apparently unaware that I had to force it.
Although thinking about it, it was rather comical, so I sniggered again.
"Back to the conversation though," Scott continued, taking a sip of his whiskey. "If you want some, help yourself. I'm not going to eat it all."
"Do you mind?" I asked hesitantly. I actually felt really hungry and was worried I was going to pass out or my stomach would start making embarrassing sounds.
"Actually I do," he said, his eyes searching mine for a few seconds.
I frowned at him. I was confused. But to my surprise, he suddenly laughed. "I'm joking, if I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have offered. Please, help yourself!"
I shook my head at him as I just laughed a little awkwardly and timidly took a piece of bread and a bit of cheese that I was sure looked like normal cheddar.
"So, you're part Turkish?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going and hoping to look as normal as possible. Maybe I could distract him with conversation before he noticed I was extremely nervous around him.
"What makes you say that?" Scott asked quizzically, picking at a piece of bread, tearing off small bits and popping them into his mouth.
"You said your grandmother was Turkish?" I gulped the piece of cheese and break down a little too early and it hurt my throat. "You can speak Turkish too, so I just assumed-?"
"You're assuming again?" He smiled at me.
He must have seen the look on my face as he suddenly starting laughing again. "You'd be right, my grandmother was Turkish." He nodded. "She married an Englishman though, that's how they ended up in the UK. But I'm also part Italian too. My other grandparents on my mother's side are Italian."
"That explains a lot," I said accidentally, but Scott had heard.
I felt my cheeks go red. "Oh, I just-, you look like your Mediterranean."
He smiled at me as if knowing exactly what I was thinking. I knew what I was thinking too. I wish I didn't, though. I was just thinking that a man this handsome, with his raven hair, had to be from Mediterranean decent. Or my other guess was going to be Persian.
"So, what are you studying at University?" he asked suddenly as I took another bite of the bread, realising how nice it actually was. It might not have been anything special, just a bit of bread and cheese, but it was amazing fresh bread and the cheese seemed fresh too, nothing like that processed stuff that you could get at the supermarkets. "Let me guess, something in science? I'm going to say Master's level or maybe even PhD?"
I raised my eyebrows at him, how did he know?
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