Page 33 of The Mismatch

She already felt guilty for possibly being the worst Muslim ever, and didn’t need Oliver adding to her perpetual worries. It wasn’t as if she saw a future with Magnus, or even wanted one with him, even if he wasn’t a fuck boy; they were too different. How could she ever bring him home to her family one day? An atheist rugby player who posts almost-naked photos of himself online. The thought was as unimaginable as it was ridiculous. She knew she would never marry a man like him, so her intentions from the start in the eyes of God were not good. If she saw a future with Magnus, saw something beyond a few meetings, at least she could justify what she was doing to herself, if not to God.

And yet when Magnus messaged her she couldn’t help but invite him over.

She stared at herself in the mirror, looking ridiculous and barely resisting the intense urge to scratch her arms.

Using the mini plastic spatula, she scraped the bleach off her arms, skin tingling in relief with each swipe. It was ceremonial, really, the shedding of her roots to conform to Western standards.

**

‘So, this is your room,’ Magnus said, walking into her bedroom.

They planned to watch her favourite Ghibli movies,My Neighbour TotoroandThe Cat Returns. Soraya trailed behind him. When she first opened the door to let him in she found herself momentarily speechless, which made her want to slap herself. She reminded herself repeatedly that he was a lad. Tried to remember the awful pictures of him in her brain. And yet now, walking behind him, her gaze fell to his bottom, the sight of which rendered her speechless. His shorts were tight across his bum and through the material she could make out the definition of his thighs. He wore a navy Goldsmiths hoody; on the top left hand of the chest it bore his name, and the university crest – an open book atop a leopard.

Seeing the room through his eyes, she was sure he’d think it was childish. Her bedspread was floral and pink, her lamppink gingham, and a Hello Kitty cushion was propped up against her pillows. Why did everything look so pink all of a sudden?

Her sketchbook was on her desk. She saw his gaze linger on it.

‘Can I?’ he asked, lifting it up before she had the chance to answer.

‘Sure,’ she said pointlessly. She hadn’t thought he’d want to look through her belongings. When she noticed her diary left on the bedside table, her heart suddenly quickened.

‘Are you sure I won’t find any drawings of me in here?’ he said, smirking.

‘God, you have such a big head,’ she said, her voice flat, concern focused elsewhere. She walked backwards, retrieved the diary unobserved and slipped it under her pillow. All while he was facing her desk, hand on the sketchbook cover.

‘I’m merely asking,’ he said. He flicked through the sketchbook whilst she stood there, one hand now wrapped around her stomach. She wished he would say something, anything.

‘You’re crazy talented. You know that, right?’

She squeezed herself tighter, grimacing, before taking the sketchbook from him and throwing it onto her bed. ‘Do you want a drink?’

He pulled her towards him and bent his head to meet hers, drawing her into a kiss. The whole movement was so natural and swift that she didn’t have time to think about what was happening. As his lips touched hers she was breathless.

This was all so normal to him, and completely alien to her. The urge to move her body closer to his was strong, but so too was the desire to move away.

And for the first time in her life she wanted to know what a man looked like with no clothes on. She wanted to know whatMagnuslooked like with no clothes on. And if she wanted to, she could probably see him undressed tonight.

All her life she had been taught to resist men; it went against her entire upbringing to enjoy his company. Men had the ability to ruin lives. But when he pressed his body to hers all such thoughts died away. Her body responded by pressing back against his. His hand found her behind, which made her laugh. Soraya was sure this was not the reaction she was meant to have, but Magnus smiled against her lips.

‘I’ll get the wine,’ she said, keen for an escape.

She wasn’t sure if this was a terrible idea. Maybe they should have just watched the films in the living room. What stopped her from doing that was the thought that Oliver might sense Magnus had been there.

In the kitchen, Soraya inspected the wine Magnus had brought; not that she knew much about wine. It was red. She poured them each a glass although they only had one wine glass that Oliver had accidentally stolen from the pub around the corner. They had been drinking in the smoking area when he had seen someone he’d had a short fling with. Not wanting to have an awkward interaction, he and Soraya had walked quickly back to their flat, and it was only whenthey were home that he realised he had taken his glass with him.

She returned to her room to find Magnus sprawled across her bed, perfectly at home. She handed him the wine glass and she drank from a mug.

‘Classy,’ Magnus commented as he took a large gulp.

She brought her laptop over to the bed.

‘I saw the photo you posted,’ she said, sensing a need to fill the silence.

He pressed his lips together to stop himself from smiling. ‘Did you like it?’ he said, a glint in his eye.

‘What were you guys even doing?’

‘It was a laugh,’ he said, leaning forward. ‘What, you don’t take naked photos?’