Page 34 of The Mismatch

‘I would literally be killed if I did that. Not that I’d want to.’

‘By who?’

‘My parents …’

‘Oh, they’re strict?’

‘Muslim. Same thing.’

There was a short silence before he said, ‘Where are you from again?’

Soraya gave him a look. It was curious, she thought, how much debate there constantly was online about asking people where they’re from, whereas immigrants happily asked each other. It wasn’t rude or suggestive to them, simply a question. She got the feeling Magnus was asking in this vein, despite being a white man.

‘I mean, where are your family from?’ he amended.

‘Where do you think?’

‘Well, you look a bit like Cleopatra with your eyeliner, fringe and cheekbones. It’s one of the reasons I noticed you in lectures actually.’

Soraya grimaced, inwardly begging him to stop.

‘Egyptian?’ he guessed.

She snorted. ‘No, Iranian.’

Whenever Soraya revealed her background growing up she’d received mixed (but equally ignorant) responses:

‘Don’t they all live in huts there?’ – from those who thought Iran was just a desert.

‘Do you mean Iraq?’ – from those who thought Iran and Iraq were the same country.

‘Isn’t that where all the terrorists go before an attack?’ – from those who thought all Middle Eastern countries were filled with terrorists.

Magnus’s response surprised her. ‘That’s really cool.’

‘I wouldn’t say it’scool,’ she said, quietly.

‘You wouldn’t?’

‘I mean, like growing up it didn’t feel cool. There were only a few ethnic minorities at school. I just felt different, and kids are little shits so they made it known we were different and that was a bad thing.’

She hadn’t meant to say this. In fact, this confession was exactly the kind of thing she did not divulge to people she didn’t know very well, but she couldn’t help herself. There was something about him that made her feel as though shecould. It was strange and she was not sure how much she liked it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He stroked the back of her hand. ‘I bet they’re all fucking losers now, and look at you.’

She snorted.

‘Don’t get me wrong, I like being Iranian. I just guess I still have hang-ups from going to basically an all-white school. That’s why I like London so much – it’s so different to where I grew up.’

‘I like that about London too. It feels like you can be anyone here and that’s fine, no one cares.’

She wondered what he meant. Who did Magnus want to be, and was that the person he truly was? She had seen Magnus’s different sides now, each one contradicting the other. She almost wanted to ask him, ‘Who do you want to be?’, but she pressed her lips together instead.

They didn’t get past the opening credits ofMy Neighbour Totorobefore they became distracted. There was a small smile on Magnus’s face, his brown eyes gentle and appealing. Soraya leant in to kiss him, intending for it to be just a small kiss, but they ended up kissing for half an hour.

She was nervous to begin with, but he had an uncanny ability to put her at ease. Kissing him was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. He touched her cheek at first, and as it escalated his hands bunched her hair. He lifted her up so she was sitting on top of him.

But then guilt engulfed her. It told her that she shouldn’t be doing this, that she was a bad person. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to stop the images of her family watching herlike this, of God watching her, from creeping in. It was infuriating; she wasn’t even entirely sure why she should feel guilty.