Helen's boyfriend, Matt

Mari scrambled to her feet, but kept to the shadows at the side of the L-shaped walk-in closet.

‘Look guys, can you stop ribbing me about Helen, it’s getting a little old.’ Mari frowned as Helen’s boyfriend of the moment and two of his buddies came in lugging football equipment.

‘I just don’t get why you stick with that piece of ice, man,’ Jimmy said. ‘I mean, you said yourself that she’s not the most interesting person in the world – if she shuts you down whenever you bring up the topic of sex, then…’ he tailed off, and Mari resisted the urge to peer round the corner at them to see why. She guessed some sort of manly shoving had been involved.

Mari’s mind raced. Matt was a good-looking guy, if rather conventionally so. She had often thought about what it might be like kissing him under the bleachers – it wasn’t a concept she had much experience of – her last kiss had been in eighth grade at a Christmas party under some mistletoe. Not that she minded too much: boyfriends seemed like far too much effort: she couldn’t wait to get out to University at the end of the summer and meet some real men.

Still, if she could persuade Matt to fool around with her, it would be a suitable on Helen. No doubt she didn’t want to make out with him, but she wouldn’t want anyone else to either.