A story based on Can Yamans Turkish dizi.
Ozgur Atasoy.
Rich, handsome, Club/bar owner and DJ lives in an exclusive rooftop penthouse in Istanbul.
He's a Player.
A lover of beautiful things and he can't resist one night stands with beautiful women...
Despite the delicate head, I'm the last one of us, still awake at just after midnight, laying in the dark, my brain tormenting me with thoughts of my hideous encounter with Soner and more importantly... of where Ozgur is?
The need to see him is overwhelming. The total contrast of my feelings for him compared to how I now feel about... Urgh, my pislik ex, is giving me such a strange rush of emotion. Inside my chest, there's a dull ache that's rapidly falling into my stomach. I know that keeping today's incident to myself is going to weigh me down and could jeopardise our fledgling relationship. And the thought that keeps tumbling over in my mind is..... What will Ozgur do if I tell him?
Suddenly, I'm aware of some familiar sounds coming from his apartment. A key is fumbling in the lock. He's home!
I ease myself up and groan, holding my head for a moment before I feel stable enough to slope off to the bathroom and down a glass of water.
The front door closes.
He always throws his keys onto the table and I hold my pose waiting to hear it. When I do, the familiarity of it makes my mood inwardly lift, but it's short lived because I remember my bruised arm and I'm frowning again.
After brushing my teeth and rinsing quickly with mouthwash, I half walk, half run, as quietly as I can, on my tip toes to my wardrobe, searching for a long sleeved cardigan. If he does what I think he'll do, he'll be pouring a drink and then sending me a text to see if I'm awake.
But, my phone screen remains black and I count the seconds, staring at it for any signs of life...
Looking at myself in the mirror, I sigh and slip the soft cream fabric over my shoulder, wrapping it around my black strappy vest and shorts. How can I keep this a secret?
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A few minutes tick by and while my phone lays silent, I can just about hear some signs of movement. Dull, thudding vibrations, coming from the floor next door. Is he pacing? Did he just speak? Is that one voice or two?
Now, curiosity is getting the better of me and I have to investigate. Padding into the living area, I gently slide across the glass patio doors. So slowly, inch by inch, so as not to awake my sleeping companions or alert Ozgur.
Creeping across the divide, the pool lights illuminate my way. His own patio doors are open just enough for me to slide through without pushing them any further and then I see him. Well... the back of him. A table lamp by the corner sofa is the only light in the room. He's talking to James Dean, in his sweats and barefoot, a whisky glass in his hand, sloshing the contents towards his 2D, static companion on the wall.
"Who the hell does she think she is?" Then he puts on a high pitched voice and seems to be mimicking a woman. His head wobbles from side to side. "We'll see, Ozgur...Urgh. As if I'd go there again! She's deluded!" He seems to be annoyed, and a woman is obviously involved. There's some more muttering but I don't catch what he's saying. It's too fast and most of it is said under his breath or into the whisky glass.
