Page 42 of The Mismatch

‘It’s just you hear so many things …’

‘But you know me,’ he interjected. ‘Right? From what you’ve seen of me, do you really think I’m like that?’

His eyes were imploring her, and she felt another wave of shame. She hadn’t really thought about what she was saying, about how it might make him feel. She hadn’t thought about his feelings at all since she had known him, come to think of it.

‘No, I don’t,’ she said, surprising herself by how true the words felt when they came out of her mouth.

He visibly relaxed, like her opinion of him really mattered.

And all Soraya could think in that moment was:Oh, shit.

After twenty more minutes spent browsing – and then purchasing – books, they continued their walk along the river, passing teenagers at the skate park, the various chain restaurants and amusements.

Their conversation had moved in a much lighter, much safer, direction; Soraya had learnt her lesson.

‘How are you finding post-uni life now?’ Magnus asked.

They stopped to lean against one of the railings overlooking the usually murky Thames. But today the clear blue sky was reflected against the water and brightened it, giving the illusion of a perfectly blue river.

‘It’s weird,’ Soraya confessed. ‘It’s not what I thought it would be.’

‘How so?’ Magnus was looking out into the distance as they spoke, which allowed her to gaze openly at his face. She decided she appreciated his broken nose. It was the only thing about him that wasn’t conventionally attractive, and that made it more special. He had mentioned in passing howhe’d broken it on two separate occasions, during rugby games, and had given up on having surgery to correct it. He laughed it off at the time, but she could tell it was actually something he was bothered about, beneath it all.

‘I was really looking forward to “beginning life”, but I don’t think I realised how everything would change – not for the better. I thought everyone would stay in London, that starting a career would be simple. That everyone would still see each other, as normal, but apart from Priya and Oliver, I haven’t seen anyone since graduation. I guess I just didn’t think it through, not that I really had a choice in the matter.’

‘Yeah, it’s definitely not easy. Most of my friends have gone off somewhere else as well.’

‘Let me guess, Australia or Thailand, or both?’

He gave her a wide smile. ‘Yes! And can I just askhowis everyone flying off to Australia and Thailand? Where did they even get the money? I swear the ones who left were the ones who were always going on about being “skint”. If that’s their version of skint …’

‘It comes from the bank of Mummy and Daddy,’ Soraya finished.

She wasn’t unaware of the privilege in her own life, that her family now lived comfortably, but her parents were not well off enough to pay her rent or give her money for flights to the other side of the world. It was interesting, she thought, that no matter how well you were doing in life, there was always something you didn’t have and longed for – and yet someone elsewhere would be wishing for exactly what you had.

‘God, there were so many posh people at our uni. Like worse than just posh people – posh people pretending not to be posh – like they think it’s actually cooler to be poor,’ Magnus said, shaking his head. They began walking again. He gave her a look then that made her both laugh out loud and also feel deeply offended.

‘I’m not posh!’

‘Yeah, yeah, “I’m not posh”,’ he said, mimicking her Southern accent badly.

Her mouth hung wide open for a few seconds before she playfully shoved his shoulder. How was it possible for anyone’s shoulder to be rock solid? She knew her bingo wings were not quite the norm at twenty-one years old, but Magnus seemed to take things in the completely opposite direction.

He put his hand over hers before she could remove it, and then somehow they were holding hands, like it was the most normal thing in the world. What was worse was that she quite liked the feeling of his hand enclosing hers, liked the protectiveness of the gesture. This information would of course never be shared with Priya or Oliver.

‘I’m not,’ she protested again. ‘Like, I’m genuinely not. It’s just my accent.’

He narrowed his eyes, but there was a teasing edge to his otherwise detective-like expression.

‘How many holidays do your family go on a year?’

The question was so specific it surprised her. ‘Um, I don’t know, we don’t always go on family holidays. Probably like once every five years and they’re always a bit of a fail.’

‘Did you go to a private school, grammar school or state school?’

‘A state school.’ This question, however, she understood. She was so surprised entering student halls in first year to find most of the people there had been to a private school. Though she also felt a sense of pride that she had achieved the same grades without her parents having paid for a private education.

‘How many bathrooms does your family home have?’