Finding Mr Perfectly Fine

‘What do you do?’ Wahida asks me with a bored expression. The way she has wrapped her plain black headscarf tightly around her bare face makes her look quite severe and I doubt she’ll be successful tonight. I notice that she’s wearing what looks like a designer watch, so I don’t feel too sorry for her.

‘I work in Community Engagement for my local authority,’ I reply.

‘Oh,’ she says with – hang on, is that a sneer on her face? ‘That sounds .?.?. relaxing. I’m an auditor for E & Y.’

Before I can control myself, I retort, ‘That sounds .?.?. boring.’

I’m relieved when the facilitator finally starts talking and I can turn away from Wahida. When we’re told to get into pairs and introduce ourselves, I hesitate. I don’t feel like talking to either of the people closest to me. I decide that the guy on the right is the more appealing option, so I turn towards him. Except I’m too late and he’s partnered with a tall, skinny girl on his right.

Feeling deflated, I turn to my left and find that Wahida has been replaced by Hamza. How he managed to shuffle over here without me noticing is beyond me.

‘Hey, I’m Hamza,’ he says with a strong American accent. Up close he’s all-right looking, with his clear, fair complexion, flushed cheeks, light-brown hair and green eyes. He looks a bit too clean-cut and fresh for my taste and his cheeks are smoother than mine. I tend to go for the tanned and dark-hair type with facial hair.

‘Salaams, I’m Zara,’ I respond with a friendly smile. I’m not interested in him but we’re stuck together for at least an hour so I might as well enjoy myself.

‘So, what brings you here, Zara? Making new friends? Networking? The possibility of finding “the one”?’ He says this with a cheeky grin.

‘Actually, it was the chocolate,’ I reply flippantly, looking him straight in the eye. He lets out a hearty laugh and I can’t help but giggle along with him.

‘A woman after my own stomach,’ he guffaws, clutching his belly. He makes so much noise that despite the hum of voices around the room, people turn to look at us. I spot Layla grinning at me. She gives me a thumbs up and I glare at her and try to shake my head subtly. She carries on smiling so I look away before Hamza notices.

Once we get talking, I find he’s quite fun. We decide to make a dark chocolate bar with hazelnuts and a white chocolate swirl going through it. As Hamza gets on with melting the chocolate, I start chopping the nuts and I’m surprised at how well we work as a team.

‘So, what do you do?’ he asks after we finish talking about our favourite foods. ‘I’m pretty sure you don’t work in Finance.’

‘What makes you say that?’ I ask with interest as I chop the nuts haphazardly. ‘Because I do, actually.’

‘Oh really?’ he smirks, measuring out the white chocolate. ‘What’s eight multiplied by seven?’

‘Er .?.?.’ I turn red as my mind blanks out. He laughs again, and before I can stop myself, I dig my elbow into his ribs. Bloody loud Americans. All the other eligible bachelors – and I spot a few decent-looking ones – probably think I’m into Hamza now and won’t even bother with me.

‘Sorry,’ he says, still chuckling. ‘I can’t help it. This is how I laugh.’

‘Well, stop taking the piss out of me, then,’ I grumble.

‘Sorry,’ he says again, looking slightly apologetic. ‘This is why I’m still single. I find everything and everyone funny.’

‘Fine,’ I concede with a sigh. ‘Go on then, how could you tell I don’t work in Finance? I could have been some hotshot auditor, you know.’

‘None of the auditors I know wear jeans to work,’ he muses, raising his eyebrows. ‘And none of them look as glamorous as you, either.’

Even though I don’t fancy him, I can’t help feeling tickled. Don’t judge me, OK? It’s not every day a girl’s called glamorous.

‘I mean, look at you compared to everyone else here,’ he continues. ‘Yes, there are some attractive women, but they all look so serious and boring, whereas you look like you looted Ernest Jones with all that bling.’

I smile at that and find myself confessing that I actually stopped in Primark on the way here. He laughs again and this time, instead of admonishing him, I join him.

‘See Wahida over there?’ he says in a stage whisper. ‘She looks like an auditor.’

Now we’re both in hysterics and we don’t even care if people stare. Wahida turns and gives me a dirty look and I’m feeling so giddy from the chocolate and giggling that I smile stupidly back at her.

Layla rushes up to me as soon as the activity is over and everyone’s free to mill around and talk to people from other tables.

‘I can’t stay for long, Hasan has texted me, like, ten times already. Tell me quickly – what’s going on with you and that guy?’ she whispers, stealing glances at Hamza who is rummaging through his goody bag.

‘Nothing!’ I say with a laugh. ‘I think I’ve made a new friend, that’s all.’