Paul woke up in bed, his penis hard, his Superman duvet cover twisted around him. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was still dark outside. When was the last time he’d woken up before nine on a weekend? He couldn’t remember. But this morning was different. Today, he’d woken up knowing that he had kissed a girl. And not just any girl.

Throughout his early teens, he’d imagined what his first kiss would be like and wondered when it would happen. If it would happen. But not even his most erotic dreams had prepared him for something like this. It was better than getting a Game Boy for his birthday. Better than being able to do a stand-up wheelie on his bike. And much, much better than the top-shelf magazines that he kept well hidden under his bed.

Paul lay for a few moments, his eyes getting used to the darkness, thinking about Claire. He’d been prepared for her not to turn up at the cinema the night before and so when she’d walked towards him, he’d pretended not to see her, his eyes determinedly fixed on the pub across the road, only turning as she got nearer. Her very presence had floored him. He could smell her perfume and he’d wanted to reach out and touch her hair, feel the soft blonde strands between his fingers and before he could stop himself, he imagined grabbing a handful, tugging it, so her head tilted back to meet his.

Her shy greeting had interrupted his thoughts and he forced himself to concentrate on opening the cinema door for her, deliberately letting it slam shut on the catcalls of her friends behind them.

What the hell had they turned up for? Claire had said there would be some others, he supposed. But still. Charlotte? He knew Charlotte of course – everybody did. He just didn’t get why everyone seemed so into her. To him, she was vapid. Of all the people to become Miss Popular at the school, he certainly wouldn’t have put his money on her. She didn’t even know the Periodic Table after weeks of studying.

In the first year of high school, Charlotte and Paul had been paired up by Mrs Chelmhurst to work on their chemistry projects. Without a doubt, it had been the most painful six weeks of Paul’s life. Charlotte knew absolutely nothing about chemistry and had no interest in learning anything. He had a feeling that Mrs Chelmhurst had done it deliberately; when he’d tried to explain to her that he wanted to work with someone else, she hadn’t even bothered to listen to him.