Say nothing and go to Jean’s room

You look at the young woman out of the corner of your eye and see that she is smiling slightly, but she doesn’t seem too interested in talking. You figure if she was a roommate or friend, she would have said something by now. When the elevator stops at your floor, you are relieved when she doesn’t follow you out of the elevator.

Your heart is racing so much that you have momentarily stopped obsessing about sex. You glance down at your chest, hoping that means your nipple situation has cured itself. To your dismay, it has not. They are just as conspicuous as before. One thing is certain: if you are going to stay in a female body for long, you’re going to have to figure out how to put on a bra. Thankfully, you have made it to Jean’s door, and you will have plenty of time to figure out her clothes — and her body — at your leisure.

You pull out the room key, unlock the door, and step inside, hoping against hope that Jean has a room to herself.

You step inside. Your immediate reaction is that this is a room quite unlike your own. It is feminine in every respect. The colors are softer, and there seems to have actually been a plan as to how everything should look. Curtains, rug, pillows... Everything coordinates. It is also neater. Cleaner. And it smells nice.

There are two beds, each one against opposing walls. One is nicely made, with a couple of cute stuffed animals perched by the pillow.

The main thing you notice about the other bed is that it is occupied. By a guy.

A male student, dark-haired, is laying on his side, with his head propped up by one hand. In front of him, on the bed, are a couple of open books and a notebook. One leg is fully extended, and the other is bent, with his foot resting on the bed covers and his knee pointing toward the ceiling. He is barefoot and wearing faded jeans and a black t-shirt.

You see the name “Brad Keirney” on the backpack next to the bed, and you remember the comment in the locker room about whether you would finally give in to “Brad’s puppy dog eyes.”

He looks up from his books with dark brown eyes, which are, truly, puppyish. He gives you a big smile, and says, “Hey, I hope you don’t mind, but Becca let me in. You just missed her.” He flips a couple of pages in his notebook and reads the hasty scrawl. “She said to tell you that she paid the cable bill and you can take care of next month. She also said that if Kyle comes by, you are to tell him that he’s a ‘sick fuck’ and he can ‘stick his little pecker in a pencil sharpener before he’s allowed in this room again.’” He looks up and grins. “I assume there’s a story behind that, but I didn’t ask. She said Shanna was waiting for her and had to run.” He looks at his notes again. “Oh, and she asked if you could get her clothes out of the dryer, otherwise someone will swipe them before she gets back on Sunday night.” He looks back up at you and says, “I think that’s all the messages. Just promise me I can be here when you tell that to Kyle.”

You realize you are just staring at this guy, unblinking. Somewhere in your brain, his words are registering, but at the moment, you’re trying to figure out what the heck is going on. He seems to notice your situation. The smile leaves his face, replaced by a look of concern. “Jean? Are you ok? We’re still on, right? I didn’t think you’d mind if I waited here for you, but I guess I should have asked.”

You set your backpack down and rub your eyes. “Um.... sorry....,” you stammer. “Just overdid it a bit at practice, I guess. Um... yeah... not a problem.”

You see Brad’s look of concern soften slightly. You also see his eyes dropping downward repeatedly, and you realize he is having a hard time focusing on your face when your perky nipples offer such an inviting alternative. You feel your face blushing, but you also feel the warmth return to between your legs. It’s one thing for you to admire your breasts; it’s quite another to realize you are having an effect on a good-looking guy.

“Hey, come and sit down,” he says, patting to a spot next to him. “If you overdid it, you should get off your feet.”

You do feel a little lightheaded and you should sit. Realizing the situation is dangerous, however, you wonder if you shouldn’t use this as an excuse to get out of there — or get him out of there — before he realizes something isn’t quite right with you and starts to ask too many questions.