Perfect Match Read online

  ‘You sure you’re okay?’ he asks.

  Part of me wants to offload about the catheter papers, the creepy messages on Dream Dates and the dick pic, but I know they’ll just laugh and I can’t face being the hilarious singleton today.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine, just a bit tired. Long day.’ I force a weak smile.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Max remarks.

  ‘Oh…Poor Soph,’ Kate pulls a glum face, reaches over and squeezes my knee.

  My phone buzzes. One new message from Dream Dates.

  Jonno582: Hey Sophia,

  Have you heard what scientists are saying? There are only going to be eight planets in the solar system after I destroy Uranus.

  ‘What the fuck?!’

  ‘What is it?’ Kate asks.

  I look up from my screen. Both she and Max are looking over.

  ‘Nothing. It’s nothing. Just an annoying work email from Ted.’ I hit delete. This message makes emails from Ted look like Petrarchan sonnets.

  ‘Oh, alright then.’ Kate turns her attention back to EastEnders but after a few minutes her stomach makes a loud growling noise, so loud in fact that it makes the booming voices of an Albert Square argument sound like faint whispers.

  Max raises an eyebrow. ‘You hungry by any chance, love?’

  ‘Starving,’ Kate mutters, her eyes fixed to the screen. ‘Let’s get a takeaway.’

  ‘Cool.’ Max reaches for his phone, no doubt to open his favourite fast food app. It never ceases to amaze me how Max can eat so much takeaway and still look so athletic. I should pitch him as a specimen to the diet and nutrition researchers at work. Now that would make an interesting paper.

  ‘Wanna order something, Sophia?’ he asks.

  ‘Yeah, why not?’ I swing my legs over the side of the armchair and settle in to watch the rest of EastEnders.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Morning,’ Sandra chirps as I arrive at work the next day.

  ‘Morning,’ I echo as I cross the office. Sandra smiles expectantly, her eyes following me.

  ‘Working on anything interesting?’ I ask her.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She holds up a paper on fungal vaccines.

  ‘Cool,’ I murmur as I sit down at my desk and pick up my paper.

  Right, catheter-induced urinary tract infections. I suppose it’s not as bad as the time I had to edit a paper on fibre content variations between different stool types. But still, I might just make a cup of tea before I get started. I’m about to ask Sandra if she’d like one, but when I look round, she’s already staring at me with an odd expression on her face. She taps her pen against her desk, faster and faster. Tiny beads of sweat have formed on her upper lip.

  ‘Are you alright, Sandra?’ I venture.

  ‘Of course!’ She replies without skipping a beat.

  ‘Okay…’

  Sandra shuffles in her chair and blushes a little.

  ‘Do you want a cuppa?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m alright, thanks. Just had one,’ she says, her cheeks growing redder and redder.

  ‘Okay then…’ I shoot her a wary look before heading to the kitchen.

  As I fill the kettle, I can’t help wondering what’s up with her. Sandra can be so strange. Maybe she’s just found out she’s been shortlisted for the Medical Copywriter of the Year Awards and doesn’t want to break it to me because she thinks I might get jealous. I remember how awkward she got last year when she won and I didn’t make the shortlist. But even if that were the case, it doesn’t quite explain why she’d be blushing and staring at me in such a weird, intense way. Suddenly, I feel a dawning sense of dread. Oh God, what if Sandra’s got in touch with her inner lesbian and developed a crush on me or something?

  ‘Sophia!’ Sandra bursts through the kitchen door, her cheeks aflame.

  ‘Yes?’ I reply quietly, edging away a little until my back is flat against the fridge.

  Sandra sidles up to me. ‘Sorry, I just have to tell you something. I’m going to have to admit it now or else I won’t be able to concentrate on anything all day, and the fungal vaccine paper is due this afternoon and I really don’t want to mess it up. It’s really important that I tell you. I just have to get it off my chest!’

  ‘What is it?’ I ask in a voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper. Please don’t tell me you’re in love with me, please don’t, I silently pray.

  ‘I hope you’re not going to be annoyed with me,’ she frets.

  ‘What is it?!’

  ‘Well, last night, after you left work, I stayed late to go over my report on bunions one last time and…’ She trails off and looks downs at the floor. I have literally no idea where she’s going with this.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, I got stuck on a semi-colon. I just wasn’t sure whether it was right or not so I thought I’d consult that punctuation manual. You know, the one Ted emailed us a few months ago? Semi-colons: Instructions on correct usage.’

  ‘Uhhh, yeah…’ I vaguely remember something about it.

  Ted sends round these copywriting manuals from time to time, just in case Sandra and I want to do a bit of extra ‘background reading’. But I don’t think, in this lifetime, I’ll ever be bored enough to go through them; I’d rather watch paint dry. In fact, I’m sure they’d make watching paint dry look like a fireworks display.

  ‘Well normally…’ Sandra chuckles nervously. ‘Normally, I keep all the manuals in a folder on my desktop labelled “Punctuation SOS.”’

  For a second I’m quiet, and then I realise that Sandra thinks she’s been really witty. I let out a polite little laugh. Sandra takes a deep wheezing breath to calm herself down.

  ‘Well, the manual wasn’t in my folder, I couldn’t believe it. I always put them in there,’ she sighs, shaking her head. ‘I searched everywhere. I did a comprehensive search of all my files, but I still couldn’t find it, then I went through my emails from Ted. I checked my backpack, because sometimes I take the manuals to read on the tube but it wasn’t there either! Ted had gone home so it wasn’t like I could ask him to resend it, so I thought I’d just have a quick look on your computer to see if you had a copy.’

  ‘Mm-hmm.’

  ‘I went over to your desk and your computer was still on. You seemed to be in a bit of a hurry to get home last night so I guess you forgot to turn it off, but when I moved your mouse, the screen lit up and the first thing I saw was this site… Dream Dates,’ Sandra says.

  Now it’s my turn to blush. Bloody hell. I went on Dream Dates during my lunch break to find the deactivation button, but with my deadline looming for the catheter paper, I must have forgotten to log off. Oh no! What if Sandra had seen the penis criteria?

  ‘Sandra, you didn’t read anything, did you? It was just a joke. My friend set it up as a joke!’

  ‘I’m sorry, I did read something,’ Sandra admits.

  That’s it. I’ve scarred her for life. I’ve traumatised Sandra, who I’m pretty sure is still a virgin, with my crude penis specifications. No wonder she’s been blushing so much.

  ‘What did you read?’

  ‘I wasn’t snooping. I don’t want you to think I was snooping or anything… It was just there.’

  Not a dick pic. Dear lord, not another dick pic! Last time I checked my phone, it did say I had twenty unread messages, some of which were no doubt genitalia.

  ‘What was “just there”?’ I ask tentatively, bracing myself.

  ‘This message, from this guy. It popped up on the screen, the words were just there. I couldn’t help reading them,’ Sandra tells me.

  ‘Just words?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes… Just words.’

  ‘Oh great!’ I enthuse, relieved.

  Sandra looks momentarily confused. ‘Anyway, it was a message from a guy. He said he’d like to meet you and that he was going to be at The Anchor and Hope from 7pm if you fancied stopping by.’

  ‘Okay…’ I murmur.

  ‘Well it was such a coincidence because I was going to The Anchor and
Hope anyway and so I—’

  ‘Hang on, you were going to a pub?’ I interrupt her.

  Sandra is a loud and proud teetotaller and in the three years I’ve known her, she’s never once set foot in a pub. I’d actually got the impression she was a bit afraid of them.

  ‘Yeah. They’ve stopped keeping Starbucks open until 11pm so now my knitting group has to meet at a pub instead. We’ve got no other choice really,’ she tells me, despondently. ‘I’ve written to Starbucks to complain but I’m still waiting to hear back from them. It’s really annoying.’

  ‘So, what happened?’ I ask.

  ‘Nothing. I sent a message via their customer complaints form on the website the other day. They say they’ll reply within 48 hours but it’s been three days now,’ Sandra huffs.

  ‘Not about the complaint, about going to the pub!’

  ‘Oh, that!’ Sandra laughs. ‘Well, I thought seeing as I was going to the pub, I may as well check this guy out for you, just in case he was really dishy in person. He looked quite attractive on the little thumbnail by the message and so I thought… I really hope you’re not going to be annoyed at me, I didn’t mean to be nosy but…’ She tugs nervously at the sleeve of her cardigan.

  ‘What, Sandra?’

  ‘Well I clicked on his profile and he was really, really hot,’ she says, her face lighting up. ‘He looked like that actor. You know the one from that film about vampires.’

  ‘Twilight? Robert Pattinson?’

  ‘Yes! That’s the one. He was really quite something.’ Sandra lets out a low dirty laugh that sends shivers down my spine. Maybe she isn’t quite as pure as I thought.

  ‘Muscly as well. Pecs, biceps, rippling abs, lean, toned thighs…’ Her eyes glaze over and her mouth hangs open a bit. I’m almost worried that a dribble of drool might spill over her bottom lip.

  ‘Okay, I get the picture. So, what happened?’

  ‘Well, after I checked out his photos, I had a quick read of his profile. I hope you don’t mind, but I know you wouldn’t want to date someone who can’t punctuate properly and you know what most people are like these days.’ She shakes her head morosely. ‘But I was pleasantly surprised. He writes like one of us. Not a spelling mistake, unnecessary capital letter or misplaced semicolon in sight!’ Sandra tells me triumphantly.

  ‘So, I went to the pub to meet the Knitting Ninjas and at first I couldn’t see him, but then after a while the pub just fell silent. I didn’t have a clue what was going on, it was a bit unnerving. I looked round to the entrance and saw this guy coming in – the one from Dream Dates! And oh my goodness, Sophia, he was even better in person. He was so good-looking! He almost glowed. He wasn’t a regular guy,’ Sandra gushes, a little breathlessly.

  ‘He was super human, like a different species or something. He had this aura about him. Everyone in the pub was just kind of stunned and then gradually people came back to their senses and started chatting again. All the ladies in my knitting group agreed that he must be a model or an actor or someone famous. He was just too gorgeous to be an ordinary man!’

  I frown sceptically. ‘But did he really look like Robert Pattinson?’

  ‘Yes, he did! He made Robert Pattinson look a bit worse for wear actually. He was a total dish!’ Sandra insists, and I can’t help grinning.

  A Robert Pattinson lookalike! Oh my God! Just like my ad! But hang on a minute, why would someone that hot be into online dating? It doesn’t make sense.

  ‘Hmmm… This all seems a bit suspicious,’ I comment, turning my attention back to the kettle. I drop teabags into our mugs and pour boiling water over them. ‘If this guy is that gorgeous, surely he could have his pick of women. Surely he’d be beating them off with a stick?’

  ‘He was! It was quite funny actually,’ Sandra recalls. ‘He was sitting on his own by the window reading a book and three or four women tried to make conversation with him, but he just didn’t seem interested.’ She gives a little shrug.

  ‘Right, so he just sat there on his own all evening thinking that I might just happen to show up? That’s a bit odd.’

  ‘No.’ Sandra tuts. ‘He only sat on his own for a bit and then his friend came and joined him for a drink.’

  ‘Right… So, what did his friend look like?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, nothing special.’ Sandra shrugs. ‘Just a normal looking guy. But the Robert Pattinson one kept looking over his friend’s shoulder towards the exit. I think he was looking out for you, just in case.’

  I cast Sandra a wary look as I open the fridge door to get some milk.

  ‘This all sounds a bit strange,’ I muse, unscrewing the lid of what looks like the least curdled bottle. I take a sniff to find that it’s just about passable.

  ‘Very strange actually,’ I add as I pour the milk into the tea, trying to wrap my head around Sandra’s bizarre tale.

  You don’t find men who are so gorgeous that they can silence a room on dating websites. You just don’t. I’ve tried enough of them to know. The only conclusion I can come to is that Sandra saw a slightly above average guy and managed to throw this whole thing out of proportion. Maybe he farted as he came into the pub and that’s why everyone went silent and started staring at him. Yes, that’s much more likely. He’s probably a complete dweeb who smells of farts. That’s the kind of guy you find on dating websites. I reach for the sugar and stir a few teaspoons into Sandra’s mug.

  ‘So, are you going to meet him then?’ She asks. ‘You’re not annoyed with me, are you? I didn’t mean to invade your privacy or anything. The message was just there on the screen and I thought it was such a bizarre coincidence that he was going to The Anchor and Hope.’

  ‘You should have spoken to him,’ I say.

  ‘Should I?’ Sandra looks perplexed.

  ‘Yeah. You two might have hit it off.’

  Sandra snorts loudly. ‘Me? He wouldn’t be interested in me!’ she scoffs and for a moment, I feel a little sorry for her.

  ‘You have to go on a date with this guy, Sophia, if it’s the last thing you do!’ Sandra insists as the kitchen door swings open.

  ‘Excuse me ladies,’ Ted says, clearing his throat. ‘This isn’t the WI. I’m not paying you to have a cup of tea and a natter. You both have pressing deadlines and I don’t want to see a single comma out of place. Come along now, back to work.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Ted, ever so sorry,’ Sandra gabbles.

  ‘Yeah, sorry,’ I echo, putting the milk back in the fridge.

  ‘Just had a bit of a personal emergency but back to work, absolutely! So sorry!’ Sandra hurries after Ted, leaving me plodding down the hallway after them with the hot mugs of tea.

  I sit back down at my desk and pick up my paper. Right, How to prevent catheter-induced urinary tract infections using sterilisation. I flick through it. 19 pages long, could be worse. I jolt my mouse, bringing my screen to life. The Dream Dates website is still there, the profile of the Robert Pattinson lookalike staring back at me. Holy shit, he actually does look like Robert Pattinson; Sandra wasn’t just imagining it. Except his hair is thicker and his eyes are even more blue and piercing. And oh my gosh, his body! She wasn’t exaggerating when she said rippling abs and lean, toned thighs. Wow! This guy is something else. I scroll through his photos, getting more and more excited as I click through to some holiday shots of him lounging topless on a yacht, the sunlight melting over his perfectly chiselled pecs.

  ‘Last time I checked, our website didn’t contain photos of naked hunks.’

  I turn around to see Ted standing at the photocopier behind my desk. I quickly close the window, but it’s too late.

  ‘What’s got into you today, Sophia?’ he tuts. ‘Come on, back to work.’

  ‘Yes, Ted. Sorry. Spam!’

  Reluctantly, I get on with my work, although images of that guy’s piercing blue eyes keep flitting though my mind. I just want to go back on Dream Dates to get a better look but Ted keeps wandering through the office, peering over at mine and San
dra’s monitors to make sure we’re working. Finally, he heads out to get his daily elevenses, a blueberry muffin from the café down the road, and I’m back on Dream Dates quicker than you can say, ‘romance.’ I click on the last message this guy sent.

  Daniel_86:

  Hey Sophia,

  It might seem a little forward but I’m going to be at this pub, The Anchor and Hope, in Waterloo, from around 7pm tonight. Would be great to meet you if you happen to be in the area.

  x Daniel

  I scroll down and see that there’s another message, sent half an hour earlier.

  Daniel_86:

  Hi Sophia,

  Thanks for putting a smile on my face! Your profile is the funniest and most downright honest thing I’ve read all day. I’m guessing you set it up for a laugh but I actually found your honesty pretty refreshing, and bizarrely, I happen to meet the majority of your criteria. You probably won’t believe this, but I get told I look like Robert Pattinson all the time! I used to volunteer for an animal charity and I have a fluffy rescue cat called Esther! Crazy, huh?

  I know it all sounds a bit unlikely, but when I read your profile, I was as taken aback as you probably are right now. Speak to you soon, I hope.

  x Daniel

  Oh my God, he actually sounds quite cool, as well as being ridiculously hot!

  ‘See, didn’t I tell you he was a catch?’ Sandra grins, looking over. ‘And isn’t his writing great?’

  ‘Yeah, it is…’ I reply, unable to peel my eyes away from his message. It sounds so friendly and so normal for a change. And Sandra’s right, his punctuation and grammar are spot on too, now that I come to think of it.

  ‘Are you okay? You seem a bit dazed,’ Sandra notes.

  ‘I just… I didn’t expect that at all.’

  ‘But didn’t I tell you? He’s a total dreamboat.’

  Where does Sandra get these words, ‘dreamboat’ and ‘dish’? If it wasn’t for the fact that she despises makeup, I’d think she was some sort of beauty school dropout.