Page 114 of The Mismatch

‘Never mind. I think I’m talking rubbish to be honest,’ she chuckled again.

‘Come on.’ He reached over, touched the inside of one of her wrists, ever so lightly. It caused a shiver to run through her. She stopped laughing and her mouth openly slightly.

At that moment their food arrived. She had ordered four-cheese gnocchi and he had chosen chicken breast with aubergine tomato sauce.

When he cut into it, she watched the flesh part. Somewhere along the way she had become more militant in her vegetarianism. She wasn’t even sure when or how she had grown so sensitive to other people’s eating habits, but watching him eat meat made her feel nauseous. The smell was pungent. He ate it with relish, clueless as to what she was thinking.

‘So, what have you been doing since we graduated?’ he asked.

‘I’m working in a shop while I apply for jobs,’ she said eventually. She had nothing more to offer. Had she always been this boring? ‘How about you?’

‘I work in film production, which sounds way cooler than it is.’ He laughed.

For a long time they spoke about their favourite films. He, too, was a Studio Ghibli fan, had even been to the museum in Tokyo. She had always wanted to go to Japan, and decided she’d make it her goal to visit the country in the next five years. Her reservations about Jacob gradually eased. It wascomfortable talking to him, like talking to a friend you hadn’t seen in years.

He told her about his parents’ relationship. How they had lived next door to each other in their twenties. One time his mum knocked on his dad’s door at 3 a.m. to complain about the noise he was making, and then their eyes met. The rest was history.

Soraya couldn’t help but feel slightly resentful towards him for that. For his parents having a meet-cute story that ended in a happy marriage.

‘Do you want to come back to mine?’ he asked later as they walked towards the bus stop.

Soraya hesitated. She wanted to make out with him, yes, but anything more she wasn’t sure of. She was under no illusions; she was using him to erase thoughts of Magnus. But she certainly didn’t want to have sex with him, to lose her virginity to him.

‘Completely up to you,’ he added quickly.

Her hands were shoved into her pockets for warmth. London in January was brutal.

‘Why not? We could watch a film or something.’

He gave her a sidelong smile.

Once they arrived back at his surprisingly clean house, they went up to his loft room.

His bedroom was huge, with a sofa at one end and a large TV opposite. Everything was in order, which made her wonder if that was why he didn’t drink alcohol – because he relished control over every aspect of his life, which was no bad thing.

After a fifteen-minute debate about what to watch on Netflix, they decided on a comedy. And within thirty seconds of it being on, he leant in to kiss her. Time slowed then. She seemed to have forgotten how to kiss. But soon his lips were on hers, and then his hands were on her breasts. She shut her eyes tightly, pushed out of her mind any thought of who this was. It was in this moment that she sincerely wished he drank alcohol, or that she’d had something at dinner.

Jacob was a surprisingly good kisser. His lips were soft, and when his tongue touched hers she felt a shiver of desire. And then somehow his T-shirt was removed, and she touched his chest, his neck, his back. His body was the complete opposite of Magnus’s, his chest covered in dark hair, which she hadn’t expected.

He pinned her to the bed and hastily removed her jumper.

‘I thought we were watching a film,’ she said, wrapping her legs around his waist.

‘You want it back on?’

Soraya kissed him, silencing him. She didn’t want to answer that, to talk anymore.

And then the familiar feeling of guilt washed through her. Stronger than before because he wasn’t Magnus. And she wished he was.

She stopped kissing him, slackened her legs, sank lower on the bed. At first he didn’t seem to notice. He pushed her bra away. She raised a hand. ‘No, stop.’

His brows knitted together. ‘What?’ he said, almost sharply.

‘I–I need to go home.’ Soraya scrambled off the bed, put her jumper back on and looked around for her bag and coat.

‘You were totally into it.’ Jacob’s tone was accusatory, as though she was implying something.

‘I know and I’m sorry, I just don’t feel comfortable—’