“Yes,” I say, extending a half-hearted glance in his direction before staring intently at my phone and pretending to be engrossed in an email I’ve already read twice.

It’s from my boss, outlining her suggestions for how best to tackle my meeting tomorrow. She raises some valid points, but nothing I haven’t thought of already.

“What do you do?”

Lavender guy obviously hasn’t got the hint.

“I’m in IT,” I say, my head down, eyes fixed on my phone.

“Computers?”

“Sort of.”

“Isn’t that what IT is?”

Accepting defeat, I place my phone face down on my lap. Hopefully, we’ll talk for five minutes and he’ll get this “be friendly to thy neighbour” out of his system and leave me alone.

“I work for a company that presents clients with algorithms to help grow their business.”

“Right.”

He looks at me with such pity you’d think I’d announced I worked for an oil company.

“That explains it,” he continues.

“Explains what?”

“Your aura.”

Oh, Jesus, he’s one of those. I should smile politely and get my headphones on, but seriously? I can’t let this go.

“My aura?” Surely he can hear the sarcasm in my voice.

“Sorry, that was rude.”

“Oh no, tell me more about my aura. What do you see?”

He can tell I’m goading him now. That I think he’s some kind of weirdo. A cute weirdo, I’ll admit, but a weirdo all the same.

The guy brushes his shiny curls back from his face only for them to flop back down again

“Look, I was kind of joking. I’ve been reading about auras lately. Don’t ask me why – I just tend to go down little rabbit holes – and I’m not sure they’re real, but at the same time… well, there’s this sense I get around people. I think we all get it.”

“A sense?”

He swivels around to face me fully and uses both of his hands to tuck his thick black hair behind his ears. It should be effeminate, but I find the move strangely sexy.

“Have you ever been in a roomful of people and someone else walks in and suddenly the atmosphere changes?” he asks.

“You mean when my boss walks into the conference room and”

“I’m not talking about that sort of thing. If your boss walks in, of course the atmosphere is going to be altered. I’m talking more about…”

He pauses and I can see his mind ticking over.

“OK, say you’re at home having dinner with you family.” He pauses again. “Who is in your family, by the way? Mum? Dad? Brothers? Sisters? Crazy aunts?”

I don’t like where this conversation is going. In fact, I’m cursing ever putting down my phone.

“Mum and Dad. Two brothers,” I mutter.