‘What species do you think is out there on the dance floor then?’ she asked, fiddling with a strand of blonde hair.

‘Probably the lesser-known urban species – Teenagius Drunkerus,’ he said.

She let out a laugh like a garden sprinkler, firing out little bursts of joy. The sound sent a fizz of energy through Quinn.

Voices back in the hall started shouting in unison, ‘Ten, nine, eight … ’

Quinn was suddenly filled with an overwhelming compulsion to kiss this girl. His mates wouldn’t have noticed someone like her, with her DM boots, roll-neck top and high-waisted jeans, but something in her face stood out to Quinn. She was luminously pretty, but clearly had no idea that she was. Her whole way of being felt magnetic to him.

‘Six, five, four … ’

He tried to catch her eye. He’d overheard Toby Sampson in the locker room once saying that was the key to it, just look at them long enough without blinking and they’ll know you want it. She looked back. He looked away. He was no good at the looking game. He took a step towards her, pretending to be intensely interested in something on the wall behind her shoulder. He put a hand up against the wall by her head, then he just stared at his hand, unsure of what to do next. God this was awkward. She was going to laugh at him, ask him what he was doing. She’d tell all her friends about this weird lemming-fact guy who’d tried to kiss her by the loos.

‘Three, two, one – Happy New Year!’

He dared another sideways look at her. She was looking up at him, her pupils flushed wide. Then her eyes darted nervously from side-to-side.

‘Um, hi,’ she said.

‘Hello,’ he mumbled, dropping his gaze to the floor. ‘Can I … Would it be OK if I …’ Oh god, what if she said no? He wasn’t sure any kiss was worth this level of stress.

‘Yes,’ she said, her voice breathy and nervous, her cheeks flushed pink.

She shut her eyes, and tilted her head up towards him, as he closed the space between them. Quinn felt his stomach flip as her soft full lips pressed gently against his.

Quinn had kissed girls before but not like this. The kisses before had been wet and mechanical, pleasurable, but consciously so, and somehow a bit ridiculous. Like the girl from the hockey club who just stuck her tongue out and moved it back and forth into his mouth like a lizard. This was something entirely new; every part of his body was invested in this, her mouth entirely in sync with his own. He felt an instant firm reaction beneath his jeans and pulled away, embarrassed that she might notice.

‘Wow,’ she said softly, her face flushed. ‘Um, Happy New Year.’

‘H … ’