“That would be me.”

“Me. . . I mean I am. . . uh. . . your roommate.” You try not to stutter, but her beauty is overthrowing you. Before you can say another word, there's a cough in the doorway. The dorm leader is looking at both of you, his usual blank smile on his face.

“You must be Jace,” he says. He's about six years older than both of you and wears tight shirts to accentuate his muscled up physique. His hair is slicked back into a ponytail. He's a youth pastor at the Muscle Beach Ministry, where he was investigated a year ago under the suspicion that he gave steroids out to kids. No charges were filed, but you can tell by the sound of his voice and the way he holds himself that more than a few pharmaceuticals had gone into that godlike form.

“This must have been the mistake they told me about. The clerk handling the paperwork was a man named Jace so he assumed all people named Jace were men. I assure you I will get this worked out.” The leader turned to leave, but before slamming the door, he snarled “I'll be keeping an eye on the both of you!”