“I’m Rob, by the way.”
“Anna,” she said. “Pleased to meet you.”
I almost laughed. She sounded so formal, and I wasn’t sure if she was making a joke. “So what are you studying?” I fumbled, trying to think of something to say.
“Economics,” Anna said, squinting at me through her glasses.
“Oh, cool.”
“Actually, you’re supposed to say I don’t look like an economist.”
I looked at her neat hair, so black it was like looking in a mirror, her bag stuffed with books, the strap secured to the leg of the stool she was perching on. I smiled.
“What?”
“But you do a little,” I said. “In a good way, I mean.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she opened her mouth as if she had thought of something to say, something that amused her, but then thought better of it.
I knew she was friends with Lola, the person whose birthday we were celebrating. They seemed unlikely friends. Hippy-dippy Lola, who loved to tell everyone that she was named after that Kinks song and would always sing it on request. Lola, who was known around town as the girl who got naked at the summer ball.
And then this Anna, with her sensible clothes and sturdy shoes. I had seen her around campus, often with a musical instrument strapped to her back. Not casually slung over one shoulder, but carefully and firmly attached. She always seemed to be walking with pronounced intent, as if she had a very urgent appointment.
“So what will you do with computer science?” she asked.
I was flustered, looked toward my friends at the quiz machine, not sure how to answer a question I thought was normally reserved for people who studied ancient history. There was something almost Edwardian about Anna—her puckered vowels and pristine consonants. She spoke with the precision and bearing of a character in an Enid Blyton novel. A little bit of a Goody Two-shoes.
“Maps,” I said.
“Maps?”
“Online mapping.”
Anna didn’t say anything. Her face was blank, unreadable.
“Have you heard of this new Google Maps?”
She shook her head.
“It’s been in the news a little recently. I’m writing some software connected to that.”
“So you’ll join a company then?” Anna asked.
“No. I’m going to start my own.”
“Oh,” she said, lightly touching the rim of her empty glass. “That sounds ambitious, although, in fairness, I don’t really know much about such things.”
“Can I see your phone?”
“Sorry?”
“I can show you what I mean...”
Anna looked confused, rummaged around in her bag, and produced an old Nokia.
I smiled.
“What?” she said, her grin revealing two almost symmetrical dimples on her cheeks. “It does everything I need.”
“I’m sure it does,” I said, taking it from her, my hand brushing her fingers.
“So...imagine in the future, you’ll have a much bigger screen here, perhaps even a touch screen, and somewhere here you’ll have a map. People, anyone, will be able to add things to the map, restaurants, their running routes, whatever they want. So I’m working on some software that lets you do that, where you can add things, customize the map how you want it.”
Anna looked bemused and touched the blue screen of her Nokia. “It sounds interesting,” she said, “although I am something of a Luddite. Will I still be able to send texts?”
“Yes,” I said, laughing a little. She was so dry, so straight-faced, I couldn’t tell if she was joking.
“Good. That’s a relief. So are you friends with Lola, as well?”
“Yes, a little bit,” I said. “I knew her in the first year. She lived on my floor.”
“Ah,” Anna said. “So you’re that Rob.”
That Rob. I thought back. Had I done something when I was drunk? I remembered talking to Lola one night at Fez a few semesters ago. She went on about her upbringing in Kensington as if it was a curse, a leper’s bell around her neck. I found her tiresome, a bit of a bore, but I didn’t think I had been rude.
“That Rob?” I asked, smiling nervously.
“Oh, no, just Lola mentioned you,” Anna said casually, trying once again to get the bartender’s attention. “She said you were some kind of computer genius, a whiz kid, and from public housing to boot.” She gasped as she said “public housing” and contorted her expression into one of mock outrage. “She said it was wonderful that you got a chance to come here like the rest of us,” Anna said with a little giggle.
“That’s good of her,” I said, smiling. “The boy done good.”
“Sorry?”
“The boy done good.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, it’s a football reference.”
“Ah, sorry, I don’t follow the sports,” she said, as if it was a category in Trivial Pursuit.
The pub was filling up, and we were pushed closer together, our bare arms occasionally touching. On the side of her neck, she had a small birthmark shaped like a heart. I was lost for a moment, looking at the gentle grain of her skin, when her eyes caught mine.
“So how do you know Lola?” I said, quickly looking away.
“We went to school together,” Anna said vaguely, as if she was thinking about something else.
“To Roedean?”
“Yes.”
I had figured Anna was posh, but not Roedean posh. “And what about you?” I said.
“What about me?” she said. She sounded terse, suddenly defensive.
“After we’re finished with this place I mean.”
“Oh, I see. Accountancy,” Anna said without pause. “I have five job offers in London, and I’ll decide by the end of the week which one to take.”
“Wow, cool.”
“Not exactly cool, but it’s what I do. Or rather what I will do.” She smiled weakly. “We’re never getting a drink, are we?”
“No. Especially not now.” I nodded to a group of men in rugby shirts. One of them was just wearing underpants and protective goggles.
“Quite,” Anna said, and looked away. She seemed suddenly uninterested, and I could imagine her weaving her way back to her friends and then never seeing her again.
“Would you like to go out sometime?” I said.
“Yes,” she said almost instantly, and her reply was so quick I
