Page 82 of The Mismatch

Tommy opened the door wider to let them in. As they entered she began to lick her lips, hoping to remove the dark lipstick she wore. She suddenly felt the need to assimilate rather than stand out.

She could taste the testosterone in the house. Magnus’s presence next to her felt different.

The party seemed to be made up of:

1.Men who engaged in sporting activity.

2.Girls who were excited by men who engaged in sporting activity.

But what stood out the most to her was:

3.Everyone was white.

With the passing of time Soraya had slowly become somewhat white-passing. This was partly because her skin had naturally lightened, and she made a conscious effort to remove her perceived excess body hair. Beyond that, though, now that white people were now trying to make themselveslook ethnic, by tanning, dying their hair darker and drawing their eyebrows thicker, this meant people saw Soraya, who naturally had these features, as similar to those white people. At school, however, this was not the case. Her every difference was noted then – something to be made fun of. She was often called a ‘hairy Paki’. Now she experienced the same feeling of being on edge around her peers that she had in school, and knew she didn’t belong here.

A group of people crowded around Magnus, guys handing him beer and girls sidling up close to him. Soraya was left to one side, behind everyone, unsure what to do.

She started writing a long message to Oliver about the entire situation, partly to have something to do with her hands. After a few minutes of this, Magnus must have realised she wasn’t standing next to him, but was by the door on her phone.

‘Soraya, what are you doing?’ he said, laughing. The group had parted to let him through and they were all staring at her.

‘Sorry, I was just replying to a message.’

He placed one hand on the small of her back and began introducing her to the group as simply ‘Soraya’.

The guys he introduced her to were loud, large and confident. They looked her straight in the face for a long while, as though they couldn’t understand what he was doing with her. And in that moment, she didn’t understand either.

The evening mostly consisted of Magnus being swept away by some friend or other, and Soraya sitting alone watching men play beer pong, or else observing the technique of slim yet busty girls who flirted with the boys before slinking away with them somewhere.

She could always hear Magnus – his booming laugh echoed off the walls as he encouraged his friends to down drinks and made crass jokes.

When one girl said she wouldn’t down a drink that contained a mixture of beer, vodka and white wine, he said, ‘Go to the kitchen where you belong then!’ The girl laughed, hit his shoulder, and downed it whilst maintaining eye contact with him.

Soraya had to leave the room at that point.

In the living room an entire wall was filled with magazine cut-outs of naked women. Their large round breasts caught her eye frequently, tauntingly. She remembered the Facebook pictures of Magnus semi-naked in this house, against the lewd wall, and wondered yet again why he thought it was OK, or why anyone here thought a wall of glamour models was appropriate for a living room. The idea of the men actually cutting these pictures out of magazines and then collaging them onto the wall was weird and sad to imagine.

She tried engaging in conversations with people, but while they were drunk or high on cocaine, she was sober and small talk often fizzled out. She wasn’t in the mood to drink or take drugs.

So she sat alone on a sinking sofa, picking at her split ends.

The sofa suddenly sank considerably lower, which made her fall sideways into the person who had sat down. It was Tommy.

‘Sarah,’ he said loudly, putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘What are you doing here alone?’

She wriggled out of his grasp. ‘It’s Soraya.’

He bit his lip theatrically. ‘Whoops,’ he said. ‘You having a good time?’

‘Yeah, it’s fine.’

He put his hand on her shoulder again and whispered in her ear. ‘Come on, tell me, did it really happen?’ When he spoke a speck of spit hit her cheek.

‘What are you talking about?’ she asked, ignoring his saliva on her face. She moved her head back.

‘Have you guys,you know, shagged?’ He shook his head, laughing. ‘I feel like I was cheated out of fifty quid. So, come on, is it true?’

Her mouth was wide open.