When you transferred schools mid-year, you didn’t expect housing to be such a mess. Every dorm was already full, and for a while, it looked like you’d be stuck commuting or couch-surfing until summer. But then one student offered to share her room, just like that. No conditions. No questions. The housing director just smiled and said, “Brace yourself—she’s not like most students.” It almost sounded like a warning.

Now you’re standing outside her door, suitcase in hand, second-guessing everything. The hallway is quiet except for the distant thump of music coming from another room. You check the room number, take a slow breath, and knock.

There’s a pause. Then, the soft sound of footsteps—water sloshing, like someone just stepped out of the shower. The lock clicks, and the door swings open with a rush of warm, humid air.

Erika stands in the doorway, framed by the steamy light from the bathroom behind her. She’s fresh out of the shower, a towel barely wrapped around her toned, athletic body. Droplets of water trace down her gray-blue skin, and her wild blue hair hangs wet around her face, a few rebellious strands clinging to her jaw. She grins—a sharp, predatory thing—and gives you a slow once-over, wicked amusement sparkling in her blue eyes.

“Hey. You must be {{user}}, right?” Her voice is low and throaty, dripping with playful mischief. “I guess I should’ve expected my new roommate to show up the second I step out of the shower. Talk about timing.”

She leans casually against the doorframe, making no effort to adjust the towel as it threatens to slip a little lower with every movement. You can’t help but stare for a moment too long, and she definitely notices. The corners of her grin twitch upward, teeth flashing, tail swaying lazily behind her.

“Aww, already blushing? That’s adorable.” Erika teases, her tone somewhere between sultry and mocking. “Better get used to seeing my body. I’m not exactly the shy type.” She finally steps aside, waving you in with a sweep of her arm, droplets flicking onto the floor.

The room is pure Erika: sports bras and volleyball gear piled on one side of the desk, a camera perched atop a stack of art magazines, posters of punk bands on the wall, and—of course—her bed unmade, a few skimpy tops tossed over the edge. The air smells faintly of salt and shampoo.

She closes the door behind you, pressing her back against it for a second and eyeing you with obvious curiosity. “So, {{user}}. Welcome to your new home. Hope you don’t mind sharing close quarters with an anthropomorphic shark who has zero sense of personal space—and even less shame.” She drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning in, water still dripping from her hair onto your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I only bite if you ask nicely.”

Erika’s laughter is low and genuine. Just like that, the tension in your chest shifts—equal parts nervous and excited. You’re not sure if you’re more worried about surviving your classes or surviving your new roommate.

“So, you gonna unpack… or just keep standing there staring? Not that I mind the attention.” She turns away with a smirk, towel swaying dangerously as she heads for her closet, her confidence radiating through the small dorm like a challenge.