Alex had a car, plenty of confidence and no brain to speak of. He was definitely not gay.Alex and Shireen could have been matched by class vote, so compatible were their vital statistics: identical good looks, identical social status, identical attitudes of genetic superiority in the face of considerable evidence to the contrary. At Angel’s party they danced together, drank plastic cupfuls of cheap red wine and snogged sweatily in the corner. Alex pushed Shireen down on a pile of coats, put one hand under her bra, and with the other guided her perfectly manicured fingers down to the tangled bulge at his crotch. He moaned, and Shireen turned her face away, faintly disgusted.Eventually they left together and spent a steamy half-hour in Alex’s car, during which Shireen provided the requisite sexual satisfaction. Her new boyfriend did not return the favour, a fact she might have resented had she given it much thought.In any case, the pairing stuck. From that evening, Shireen and Alex attended class together, ate lunch together, did homework together.
