This was a bad idea...

You stare at her for a long moment, and neither of you speaks. Another of the girls from the locker room walks past in the hall, moving between classes. She doesn't say anything, but you can feel her eyes on you just as surely as you can feel the eyes of the boys who are passing you in the hall. A boy brushes past you, hip to hip, only the faintest contact between your body and his, and even through your clothes, the sense of contact lingers.

It's not suspicion in Tara's eyes anymore: she's judging you.

Shame. It rises up in your heart like thick smoke, **** out everything but the lingering feather-light sense of contact: the boy's hips against yours. Tara opens her mouth to say something, but you're already running away. Your flight draws attention to you. More eyes. More people to see that you're a girl.

"What's with her?" a handsome boy asks.

"I dunno," his friend replies with a grin, "But check out that ass."

"Hey, watch it!" a girl hisses when you bump into her from behind, your breasts momentarily mashed against her back, your smooth pelvis momentarily pressed against her ass. You know you're wearing clothes, but you feel naked.

You mutter an apology and keep running, emotion building like thick cobwebs beneath your skin. You're sprinting now, wind in your face, blonde hair streaming out behind you.

You reach the dorm. You stumble into your dorm room. The sock is still on your room mate's door. You rush into your bedroom, feeling all the shame and loss and violation and grief that you feel like a hypocrite for feeling because of what you were going to do to Gemma, but feeling it all the same.

Through the wall you can hear the regular, repetitive squeaking of a bed, soft sighs, and the occasional murmured, "Oh god, yes...! Just like that... Fuck me...!"

You collapse onto your bed, and begin to cry.