Finding Mr Perfectly Fine

I laugh. ‘Come on, it could be worse. But seriously. How?’

‘It’s not mine, it’s my brother’s,’ he admits. ‘He sprained his knee playing football the other day and is stuck at home until it heals.’ He says all this with a massive grin, and I laugh at his uncontained glee.

‘You’re terrible!’ I chuckle, and then hurriedly do up my seatbelt as he puts his foot down and speeds away, the force sending my head back. I’m about to scream at him for being such a reckless driver but he slows down without me saying anything and the rest of the journey resumes at a normal pace.

We spend the car ride listening to our favourite old school garage and hip-hop tracks, windows down and singing and dancing along to all the tunes. Well, I sing and dance. He nods his head here and there, giving me the occasional ‘You’re crazy’ look.

And he’s not the only one giving me looks. I never knew how seductive a sports car can be. Clearly, I’ve never really had the luxury of travelling in them before. Every time we stop in traffic or at the lights, whoever is in the car next to me turns to stare. One guy even winks at me. At one point, Adam gets annoyed and threatens to close the window, accusing me of egging on their advances.

‘How am I egging them on?!’ I exclaim in bewilderment. ‘I’m not looking at them!’ He grumbles an incoherent response, but leaves the window open.

We finally get to our destination and Adam has to help me climb out of the car because my legs have gone numb. Sports cars are so overrated. The seats are tiny and you’re so low down that your knees ache from being in that position for too long.

‘Hang on, this isn’t Bayswater!’ I exclaim, looking around at the imposing glass skyscrapers towering above me as a steady stream of traffic whizzes by.

‘No shit, Sherlock,’ Adam says, casually linking his arm through mine. ‘It’s Liverpool Street.’

‘Oh yeah,’ I blush. ‘I was wondering why we were passing through Whitechapel a minute ago. What are we doing here?’

‘I figured that this opportunity was too good to waste, so I managed to bag us a table at a cool restaurant where my mate works. The waiting list is insane. I think you’ll like it.’

He goes up to one of the bouncers and they hug and chat for a few seconds. Adam introduces me to him and I smile shyly as the man shakes my hand and welcomes me to the restaurant, before directing us towards a glass lift that will take us all the way up to the thirty-ninth floor.

The lift begins its ascent and I inhale the magnificent view. From this height, all the other buildings are tiny, and it’s almost like someone has spilt glitter all over a black carpet; there are twinkling lights everywhere.

‘This is incredible,’ I murmur as the lift comes to a stop at our floor, unable to tear my gaze away from the view, a tingly sensation spreading across my body. ‘You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Turkish?’

Adam looks surprised for a second and then laughs. ‘Lock, Stock? Can’t believe you’ve seen that movie. You’re full of surprises yourself, askim.’

The hostess takes us over to a table right by the window so we can enjoy the view throughout our meal. We order a selection of cooked seafood and sushi dishes because the meat and chicken aren’t halal, and for a second, I’m pleased that Adam respects my feelings about halal food and doesn’t decide to start munching pork in front of me. I know he’s going to order wine or something with his meal but I’m not going to say anything. It’s none of my business – and even if it was, I don’t want to ruin the mood.

‘I’ll have the same mocktail as my friend,’ he tells the waitress and I try to hide the look of pleasant surprise on my face.

The food is as amazing as the whole setting. Adam is also being delightful company and, if I didn’t know better, it would feel like a date. But it’s not. Of course it’s not. It’s Adam, my immature, irritating colleague; but despite my brain knowing this, the rest of me feels super-attracted to him right now. It doesn’t help that instead of sitting across from me, he’s right next to me and every so often, our knees touch. With his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and the sleeves rolled up to expose his gorgeously tanned, strong forearms, I feel like I’m seeing a completely different side to him.

‘How’s it going with your boyfriend?’ Adam suddenly asks. ‘Everything all right? And what happened to that guy from your Instagram?’

I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat. ‘Erm .?.?. about that .?.?. That wasn’t actually anyone. That was my personal trainer, Jordan.’

He stares at me in surprise. ‘What? I mean, I thought you said—’

‘You were intent on jumping to conclusions about that picture and that whole night, so I let you think what you wanted.’

Adam goes quiet for a moment and then smiles apologetically. ‘I was a complete dickhead. The stuff I said to you was terrible. I’m sorry.’

I let him stew in his discomfort for a moment and then give his arm a reassuring squeeze. ‘It’s OK. You’ve come a long way since then.’

We sit there for a bit, my fingers still dangerously close to his arm. I think back to how our relationship was before and resist the urge to let my fingertips graze over that silky skin.

‘Why did you go off on me that day?’ I ask tentatively. ‘Say I had slept with who you thought was Hamza? I mean, so what? You probably sleep with a different girl every week.’

‘All right, welcome back, judgemental Zara.’

‘I’m not judging you. But that day, you were judging me for doing something you do all the time. Why?’

‘Because you’re different from me. And most of the girls I know. You’re .?.?. I don’t know. Innocent. But not in a stupid, ignorant way. You have boundaries and don’t compromise them for anyone. I know I didn’t act like it back then, but I respect that.’

Wow. I don’t know what to say to this admission, so I sit with an astounded look on my face.