Finding Mr Perfectly Fine

‘I’m not a 100 per cent sure, but I have heard that somewhere,’ I reply, hoping it’s true.

‘Yeah, I’ve heard it too,’ Ezra confirms, linking my arm with hers and resting her head on my shoulder. ‘So stop stressing, Zara. This is all written, Qadr Allah.’

While my closest friends try to reassure me, the rest of the table is blissfully unaware of the turmoil in my mind and every so often someone says something funny and they all erupt into peals of laughter. I join in as realistically as I can, but no matter how much I smile, I can’t control the nerves that are churning so furiously that it hurts.

I glance over at Samia and wonder if she’ll bring up her own news. She catches me staring at one point and smiles thinly at me and I struggle to muster up the same level of warmth in my counter smile. It’s amazing how, in just a year, our relationship has deteriorated so much. She hung the phone up on me the other day and having her here makes me feel really uncomfortable. Bloody surprise parties. I wish I had told Yasmin what happened, but I was afraid that she’d tell me that Samia was right and that I’m a selfish drama queen who thrives off attention.

The main course arrives, distracting me temporarily from my worries, and we all tuck in, enjoying the twist on the typical Turkish food. It’s while I’m eating and finally having a good time, that I see him stroll into the restaurant, his arm around the shoulder of a petite Asian girl with blonde hair. Somehow, the fact that she’s brown – the exact same shade as me, in fact – makes the betrayal feel worse. He’s wearing a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar with the sleeves rolled up, and I wonder if it’s the same shirt he wore when we went out. As I drink him in, a crack forms on my heart and I’m unable to tear my eyes away even when he places his hand on her backside and guides her to their table. Which, for God’s sake, is right next to ours. It’s not really much of a surprise, him ending up in the same restaurant as me – we both live in the same area, it’s Friday night, so why does it feel like the universe has thrown him in my face for a reason?

I look away. I don’t want him to know that I’ve seen him, and I’m hoping he doesn’t spot me at the centre of our table amongst all the balloons, flowers and other pretty girls he is likely to ogle.

‘Who the hell is that Sex God?’ Layla salivates, her eyes wide as she inhales the vision before her. ‘Do you know him? Why were you staring at him?’

‘Oh, it’s Adam,’ Fran says the same time as Samia, who’s been silent all this time.

‘Shh!’ I hiss, scowling at Layla. ‘I don’t want him to see me here.’

‘Why not?’ Francesca butts in and I decide to be honest, even though she has no idea what’s been going on.

‘It’s been a bit awkward since I told him I’m getting married.’

‘Ohhh! This is Adam your colleague?’ Layla stage whispers, licking her lips. ‘I never expected him to be this bloody hot! I take back what I said about him not being right for you!’

‘What?’ I hiss, staring at her. She was so adamant that he was too unsuccessful to marry, but yet he’s good enough for her to perv on, is he?

‘Right, let me see,’ Ezra joins in, and before I can stop her, she turns around and gets a good eyeful. ‘Not bad for a Turkish guy,’ she concedes, like she’s not Turkish herself. I’m hardly surprised that she’s not as enamoured as the rest of us. Her type is totally different from mine. While I perved on Thor, she was swooning at Loki; when I melted over Jon Snow, she pined over Rob Stark.

‘Remember the way he was all over you that night we went for shisha in Bayswater .?.?.?’ Samia adds unhelpfully.

‘What? All over you in what way? How come I don’t know about this?’ Ezra demands in indignation.

‘What night?’ Fran asks, looking at me strangely. I don’t know if anything else has happened between them, or if she has feelings for him, so I don’t really want to talk about this in front of her.

‘I don’t either!’ Layla joins in, wiggling her eyebrows. ‘Spill the beans! What happened that night?’

‘Nothing happened!’ I say, shooting Samia a dark look for opening her big mouth. ‘And can you guys please stop staring at him? I don’t want him to see me here!’

It’s a bit hard for him not to notice our table, though, with all the commotion. This isn’t even my proper hen night, but my school friend Priyanka, after a cocktail too many, decides it would be a good idea to pull out a tiara from somewhere. She plonks it unceremoniously on my head before wobbling back to her seat, knocking into Adam’s table as she does. He looks up and locks eyes with me almost immediately. I see him take in the tiara and, without so much as an acknowledgement of my presence, he looks away and turns back to his date, who’s giggling at something he’s said. I’ve already spent the whole day at work with him (albeit without actually speaking to him), but seeing him here, without him even smiling at me, hurts more than I can articulate.

After that, I can’t stop watching him. I try not to, I swear I do, but he’s right there in front of me. Everything happening on my table goes completely over my head as I watch him laugh with his date, hold her hand, tuck her hair behind her ear. I feel ill.

‘Zara, are you OK?’ Layla asks in concern, as she takes in my pale face. I nod because I can’t open my mouth to speak. She hands me a glass of water and I gulp it down in seconds, trying to sort out my messed-up head. I’m getting married – MARRIED – tomorrow. So why the hell does Adam with a girl bother me so much? It’s none of my bloody business what – or who – he does. None.

Unable to bear looking at them a moment longer, I mumble an excuse and go to the toilets, trying to compose myself.

The door opens while I’m still waiting for my hands to stop sweating and my heart to stop thumping, and in walk Layla and Ezra, looking panicked.

‘Zara! What’s wrong?’ Layla demands.

‘Nothing! I needed to use the loo, that’s all,’ I lie calmly, washing my hands and trying to stop them from trembling. It doesn’t go unnoticed and Ezra steps forward, taking my cold, wet hands in hers.

‘What’s going on with you, Zara?’ she asks softly. ‘Why has this Adam guy with his date shaken you so much?’

‘I don’t know,’ I mutter, shamefaced. ‘But it has.’

This is the first time I’ve admitted that seeing Adam with other women bothers me. I have no idea what it means. All I know is that it hurts.

‘Are you in love with him?’ Layla demands, exasperated.