I turn back to my computer, glance over my list of ideas one more time then press ‘print’.

The printer that sits beside Wesley hums and then spits out my pages. He flashes me a look of hatred – how dare I be ready – his eyes the colour of chocolate croissants. God I’m hungry.

I give him a small, tight smile, reach for the pages, lay them down next to me and, with my final eight minutes, I go to Instagram, tap the little magnifying glass and type into the search function: N-o-a-h-X.

I might as well start my research.

There he is, right at the top: @NoahXartist.

I click on it and scan the images.

Boring.

Boring.

Boring.

Old work – all geometric shades of grey that don’t translate well to social media. Ill-conceived comments: ‘My toddler could have painted that’. An announcement about the exhibition tonight. Some more grey.

I glance left to his profile photo but it’s just another shot of one of his paintings. But – ooohhhh wait – there’s an Instagram story just waiting to be watched. Maybe he’s in it.

I tap on it and a picture fills the screen.

But it’s not of him. It’s a series of five coffee cups with the hashtags #upallnight #Montmartre #coffee and #artistsoninstagram.

So basically he’s #dull.

I exhale and Wesley shoots me a look.

I focus on my phone screen, typing #NoahX into the search function. There must be something interesting about him out there somewhere. Something questionable he was tagged in…

Up comes a page of square images. I scan them.

Two lines down, there’s a shot of a young couple – she’s dark, he’s fair – posing beside a canvas. I click on it. It’s from an exhibition in Berlin. I keep scrolling.

Photographs of articles written about Noah X. I make a note to look those up after our meeting. A shot of a very beautiful woman of about forty with a short strawberry blonde bob. She’s wearing a tailored navy suit beside a piece so huge it dwarfs her. It’s a magazine clipping. A gash of light catches on the glossy page.

I tap on the photo and read the headline: ‘Agnès Bisset discovers yet another emerging art star: meet Noah X.’ It was posted in September 2018.

Interesting.

I keep scrolling. Keep looking. And then there it is.

Something.

Or rather: someone.

The hot gallery owner from last night. He’s standing there all white teeth and blue eyes. I smile as I remember him, the way he smelled. I tap on the image and read the caption. Noah X at his exhibition in New York. #2019 #OMG #love #contemporaryart #hessohot #NY #NYforever #NoahX.

Wait… what?

My blood speeds up as I read the words again: Noah X at his exhibition in New York.

I swallow hard. Make sure my synapses haven’t misfired.

So that wasn’t the gallery owner I met last night.

It was Noah X.

I can hear my voice saying, ‘He’s my favourite French artist.’