Page 123 of The Mismatch

‘You know I’m not a writer …’

‘I think you’ll find you are. A published writer in fact.’ He gave her a smile.

She scribbled her name onto the page and handed it back to him.

She hated the effect he still had on her.

Someone stood behind him, wanting to buy a copy. Magnus moved out of the way and wandered the room again. Soraya was trying her hardest to be present during the transaction, but her eyes kept straying over to him as he read the excerpts on the wall. Then he settled on a bench, opened the journal and, she assumed, began reading her piece. Watching him study it made her skin crawl.

Oliver came over, in his catlike strut, a frown on his face. ‘What ishedoing here?’ His gaze settled on Magnus.

Soraya rolled her eyes. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

‘Well, what did he say to you?’

She glanced over; he was still reading. ‘He wants to talk later.’

Oliver made a sound of disapproval. ‘He’s a piece of trash,’ he muttered.

She nodded, not truly agreeing. ‘That he is.’

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Her launch party persona worked in a similar vein to her retail work persona: overenthusiastic and full of faux-confidence. That said, with the praise and good vibes of the party, she felt her self-esteem boosted. It was the first time since she’d graduated that she felt empowered by something she had done intellectually, as though what they said at the graduation ceremony was feasible: you can achieve anything you set your hopes on.

And all too soon, the night was over. There were only a handful of people left, and the music had quietened down.

‘We’re going to the pub now, you sure you can’t come, Soraya?’ Priya asked, putting on her mini backpack.

‘Ah, I can’t, I have work early tomorrow.’ That was true.

‘Not even for one drink?’ Oliver said.

She looked over at Magnus, who was still there, saying goodbye to someone he had met during the party. Soraya had kept a close eye on him throughout the night and admired the way he effortlessly made friends.

‘I just want to hear what he has to say …’

‘He’s a player, Soraya,’ Priya said, emphasising each letter of ‘player’. ‘He’s just messing with your head.’

Soraya eyed Oliver, and he looked grim. ‘I mean, you know how I feel about him. He’s no good.’

She wanted desperately to agree with them. But unfortunately hope had already begun to blossom.

‘Doesn’t he have a French girlfriend anyway?’ Priya asked what Oliver would not.

Soraya was outnumbered. She knew what she was doing was stupid, but she didn’t care. In that moment, feminist or not, she wanted to hear him out.

‘It’s not a big deal,’ she muttered, packing one of the suitcases they had brought with the remaining copies. ‘I’ll finish up here and take what I can.’

‘We’ll get the rest tomorrow, don’t carry too much.’ Oliver said, before giving her a pat on the back. ‘Good luck,’ he called over his shoulder. They walked past Magnus, and she saw how he almost greeted them both, before realising they were giving him dirty looks. She felt embarrassed for him, until she remembered his new girlfriend.He doesn’t deserve my pity.

‘Or my time for that matter,’ she whispered to herself, feeling a change of heart coming. But it was too late; only Magnus and Soraya were left in the basement now.

Across the room Magnus smiled at her. His new friend had gone. She gave him a grimace in return.

‘So,’ she said, unable to endure an awkward silence.

‘So,’ he said in return.

She had finished packing the journals into the case, and zipped it up. She stretched her back, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to get rid of a knot in them. She wastired. There had been months of work leading up to this point and now it was over she was fatigued. But instead of going home to sleep, here she was in front of Magnus, when she’d thought she’d never see him again. Had resigned herself to that fact.