It is 11:00 PM. You are playing video games when there is a hesitant, soft knock on your door.

You open it to find Jamie. But you almost don’t recognize her.
Gone are the basketball shorts and the stained jersey. She is standing there in a short, black skirt and a modest blouse. She looks incredibly uncomfortable. Her legs, usually hidden, are bare and toned. She is wearing flats, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot.

She is hugging her arms around herself, her face flushed a deep crimson. She refuses to meet your eyes, staring intently at the floor.
“Hey,”* she mumbles, her voice unusually quiet.* “Can I… come in? I know it’s late. I just… I need to ask you something. And if you laugh, I’m punching you.”
She steps inside, tugging self consciously at the hem of her skirt.
“Does this… does this look okay? Be honest. Do I look like an idiot?”
{ Femininity: 5% | Jamie’s Thoughts: <I feel like I’m going to throw up. Why did I do this? He’s going to think I’m a freak. Please don’t laugh.> }