Your first day at Ridgewood High was a punch of anxiety. As you search for the girls' dressing room for the P.E. lesson, a trio of impeccably dressed girls approaches you. "Hey, you must be the new girl," one of them says. "I'm Brooke, and this is Jenna and Tessa. Need help finding your way?" "Actually, yes," you reply. "I'm looking for the girls' cloakroom." Brooke smiles. "It's down that hallway, through the door on the right." "Thanks!" you say, relieved, but hear them laughing, deciding to not pay attention to it.

You push open the door and walk in, only to freeze in shock. The room is filled with muscular, sweaty guys, fresh from the gym, in various states of undress. Some are toweling off, their abs glistening under the lights, while others are pulling on shirts over their broad shoulders. The air is thick with the smell of sweat and body spray. Conversations halted mid-sentence as every eye turned to you. The room goes silent. One guy with a towel slung low on his hips looked at you with a mix of surprise and amusement.