I read and reread it, over and over again, feeling as though I was being slapped every time my eyes desperately scanned over the letters.
That day on the Tube, the day that changed my life for the better, the day I clung to as proof that Noah liked me for me – not just post-list me – was all a load of BS. He only spoke to me because it was something to check off a list. It wasn’t because he actually liked me or fancied me. Why would he? Why would someone as good-looking as Noah have bothered to approach someone like me? I was never his type.
It was all a lie and I was the biggest idiot for falling for it, for wasting months of my life chasing a man, chasing a dream, chasing a new life.
I cried then. Silent tears fell down my face, splashing onto the page and turning the ink of Noah’s pen into a blurry, illegible mess. Who was I fooling, thinking that a haircut, some makeup and some confidence were enough to turn me into someone that people noticed and liked?
Well, I had already done number twenty-eight, hadn’t I? I was currently ‘dating’ a man who wasn’t my type, for all the good it did me. Taking out my pen, I crossed it out, again and again, so hard that the pen tore through the damp page and on the page after. And then I closed the book and stuffed it back into my handbag. I couldn’t bear to look at it again.
Walking through the arrivals section of the airport, I looked around half-heartedly, knowing perfectly well that there would be no one to meet me. For once, I was grateful for it. My eyes were red, my nose was sore and my tears had left streaks down my face that I didn’t care enough about to wipe off. Let everyone stare at me. I didn’t give a toss anymore.
Until I heard someone call my name.
‘Maya!’ The voice was familiar but it took me a second to place it. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT. What was he doing here? He called out again and with dread, I slowly turned around, following the sound of his voice. Sure enough, there he was, holding a massive bouquet of flowers, matching the size and vibrancy of his smile.
‘Noah?’
‘Welcome home, babe!’ He rushed over to me, placed the flowers on my trolley and then picked me up in a giant bear hug, lifting me right off the ground. Being lifted by someone had always been a fear of mine – not that I ever expected it to happen. I was always scared that the person who tried to lift me would break their back, or gasp at my weight and drop me on my face.
Noah did none of those things. He carried me as though I were as light as a wisp of silk from the finest saree shops in Dhaka. He held me for ages, right there in the airport arrivals section, where anyone could see me and report my shameless behaviour to my parents, or worse, my grandmother. It was supposed to be a romantic gesture straight out of a movie, but it didn’t feel romantic. I was absolutely mortified.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked when he finally put me down after kissing the top of my head and giving me another hug when my feet were planted firmly on the ground. The pain of finding out the truth about why he approached me on the train was still raw and I tried to keep the steel out of my voice.
‘I had to see you, I’ve missed you so much,’ Noah said, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he continued to smile at me. ‘I didn’t want you to have to take a taxi home either.’
‘Oh,’ I said stupidly, as I attempted to subtly wipe the now-dry tear streaks off my face. The correct response would have been ‘I’ve missed you too’ but I was still dumbstruck that he was there.
‘Aren’t you happy to see me?’ he asked simply, looking at me quizzically.
‘Of course I am,’ I protested weakly. Maybe I wasn’t giving him quite the ecstatic greeting he had expected, but I couldn’t help it. I had just found out that he only spoke to me on the train because of his list. The idea I had of being worth talking to by someone as handsome and driven as Noah had been shattered. And now he had materialised in front of me like an apparition and I was expected to gush over him?
The journey to north London was quiet. Noah assumed it was because I was tired and I let him think as much while he maintained a steady monologue for most of the way. All the while the disquiet, the strain, the lump inside me grew until I couldn’t take it anymore.
‘We need to talk,’ I blurted as he came off the North Circular Road at the Wood Green exit. ‘Can we stop somewhere?’
‘What, right now? Shall we go and grab some food or something?’
‘I don’t think it can wait,’ I insisted and Noah obliged, turning into a side road and parking up outside a pretty detached house.
‘What’s wrong?’ Noah turned to look at me and I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu, of the first time we met on the train. Something in his expression felt the same; the curiosity mixed with nerves. I remembered thinking how drop-dead gorgeous he was then and since getting to know him, instead of becoming less attractive, he had become more. I remembered feeling awestruck at the fact that a man this good-looking was talking to me. Looking back, it was pathetic, the way I let a stranger on a train change my entire life, for no reason other than the fact that he was hot and I was not.
But as I sat there with my heart hammering loudly in my chest, trying to find the right words for my confession, I realised that what Noah had inadvertently done to me was nowhere near as bad as what I had done to him. I had knowingly led him to believe I was a fun-loving, adventure-seeking, Ulysses-reading, sexy-haired vixen who happened to be interested in all the same things he was.
I was nothing but a fraud.
‘I need to tell you something,’ I said quietly, forcing myself to look him straight in the eye, into those swirls of colour: green, grey, blue, hazel, mixed together like an oil painting.
‘What happened?’ His voice was quiet, nervous. He was usually such a bundle of excitement and it was unsettling, seeing him look so worried.
‘Nothing’s happened, but I haven’t been completely honest with you,’ I began, a tremor in my voice. ‘Do you remember how you once said that you felt like we had met before?’ I asked, watching his expression carefully as I spoke.
‘Sort of,’ he shrugged. ‘You probably have one of those faces.’
‘That’s not why I felt familiar to you,’ I ploughed on, desperately trying to swallow the nerves that kept rising up my throat. ‘It’s because we had met before. Before RateYourDate, I mean.’
‘Really?’ Noah’s eyes lit up, like he was watching an exciting movie, not like I was about to tell him that I had invaded his privacy, big time. ‘When?’
‘On the Tube,’ I confessed. ‘I was on my way to work and I was doing my makeup. You made a comment about it and the next thing I knew, we were talking about Marvel movies and other random things.’
Noah pondered, his eyes searching my face and I could see recognition dawn on him as his mouth stretched into a huge smile.
‘I remember you!’ he exclaimed, taking hold of my hands. ‘You drew a line across your face! And then I had to get off the train before we could exchange contact details. I proper kicked myself all day for that.’
‘Did you?’ I asked, my voice small as my palms began to sweat. I pulled my hands out of his.
‘I did! I told my client all about you,’ he grinned. ‘And now look, you’re right here in front of me. We were meant to be together.’ He grabbed my hand again and brought it to his lips. Ordinarily, something like this would have sent a jolt through me, but I self-consciously snatched my clammy hand away and then sat on both my hands to stop them from trembling. The memory of the last time we laughed and sang about my sweaty palms hit me and I felt an intense wave of sadness wash over me.
‘That’s not all,’ I croaked, wishing I had a glass of water. Maybe it was a mistake, doing all this in the car. It would have been safer in a restaurant, with witnesses around.
‘Oh. What else?’
‘That day, you left something behind.’ I reached into my bag and pulled out the battered notebook, the edges worn and the leather scratched.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, staring blankly.
