Lunch was a feast today.
Walking across the shopping area with four colleagues out into the cold, crisply sunny air
To realize with a quickening of the heart, that the hot turk-intern falls in step with me and asks in his accented maddeningly cute accent “so you are all dressed up for the holidays I see“
Stand in the middle of the courtyard wondering which cuisine to head towards.
Hot turk tilts the balance to my choice with a slight nod of his head and a wink of the eye as I grin triumphantly at the rest
All five troop in towards the Thai Place.
Hot turk waits, as my shoe slips off my feet and stands holding the door open in a dutiful chivalrous pose
Conversations turn towards drinks from each country. The Russian vodka, the Turkish Raki, The Brazilian Caipirinh, and The French Cognac.
I sit across the 3 feet table from him wondering if I’ve had more than my share of Raki, as the tummy and senses lighten hearing him talk animatedly.
Decide to have spicy eggplant, and an order of drunken noodles to share with the other female colleague.
Secretly thrilled that the hot turk orders a veggie tofu dish, and wondering why I was thrilled in the first place!
“Thai spicy?” asked the slant-eyed-dimpled-waitress, to which I say “Sure why not, I like it hot!”
Braving a pink-faced-embarrasment as I realize that the Turk may have picked up on an inuendo that sub-consciously slipped my mind as he throws an angular smile at me across his lean sharp jawline.
“Drunken noodles for the ladies?” He asks innocently, as the older man teases “o, all the talk on drinks and liquor is influencing the ladies!
Decide that I really should stop staring at him lest he thinks am glassy eyed and stoned, but more importantly quite starved.
Food arrives hot and delicious looking, as each claims their choice. Turk exclaims at mine “I can smell the spice, it must be quite hot!”.
Smile and nod, as thoughts and sanity race to keep the statement as PG 13 as possible
Talk turns towards his visa status and how he plans to stay on, but that there is a possibility that next week could be his last with us.
Sinkingly realize that I will not be around next week and this very well could be the last time I lay my eyes on his lanky runners body.
Conversation turns to heritages and the mapping of the genome project.
Wonder if the Turk had any Indian ancestors as his sharp nose bore a strong resemblance to Naseeruddin Shah that he could do a Gandhi with elan. Add the deep pools of smoldering brown embers for eyes, and a 3 day stubble, and it was hard to tear eyes off.
Dismayingly realize that I did not have cash to chip in. Turk dives in and says “let me” to which I vehemently oppose as I gently remind him that I may not be able to pay him back if today was his last day here. To which he says “Do not worry, you can buy me lunch next time”
Laugh and let him pay as my brain processes the line very late to not make much sense if that was his indeed last day!
As we head out, he pulls apart from the crowd to walk towards the shuttle. He shakes hands with all and does a squeeze-that-really-isnt-a-shake-but-more-like-a-cross-between-a-hifive-and-a-warm-buddy-hand-hold-for-an-entire-2-seconds-that-I-thought-I’d-swoon-or-palpitate-if-I were-in-any-less-public-space.
Spacing out the entire time I walked back with the rest
Blog about it instead of writing a report due in 24 hours!
Swear that I do have to take that trip to Turkland pretty soon and start looking up all vacations catering to single women that would assure the tourists of some quality time with the locals.