“Sorry, I walked into the wrong room.”
Los pulled the door shut fast and double-checked the room number against his phone.
It matched.
The dorm door opened again.
The girl was still in the middle of getting dressed.
Her face was pretty and fine-featured, but completely unreadable: no expression, no reaction, nothing leaking through at all.
She pulled her T-shirt over her slight frame with total indifference to what had just happened, while giving Los a calm once-over from the doorway.
“You’re Los, right?
You’ve got the right room.
We’re sharing.”
Los frowned, genuinely confused.
“Godolkin does mixed-gender housing?”
“I can also be male.”
The girl said it flatly, then ran one gel-covered hand back through her short black hair.
The next instant.
Everything about her shifted.
Her jaw sharpened, her throat moved, her frame straightened and broadened.
The girl became a young man: angular, androgynous, hair swept back, carrying himself with a different kind of stillness.
Was that their ability?
Los was stunned.
The voice had dropped to a full baritone when the now-male roommate spoke, still with the same poker face.
“You can see it on the Godolkin app.
My name’s Jordan Li.
I’m intersex and I can switch freely between male and female.
My abilities shift depending on which state I’m in.”
Jordan, now male, held out a hand to Los with a reasonable amount of goodwill in the gesture.
“They probably put us together because we’re both Chinese-American.
Good to meet you.”
“Los.
Good to meet you too.”
Los shook the hand.
He felt like Mahoraga, the adaptation wheel at the back of his skull spinning over one more notch.
Okay.
Fine.
He could work with this.
This was The Boys universe and it was what it was.
The room was a decent size for two people, with enough space that each of them had their own territory.
Los took a quick read of the place.
Jordan’s side was clean and ordered: stacked books, high-end electronics, the kind of quiet wealth that showed up in details rather than announcing itself.
Even the T-shirt Jordan had on was Italian designer, the kind you wore like it was nothing.
Los had exactly one set of clothes, one pair of canvas shoes, a smartphone that was his most valuable possession, and a backpack that had seen better days.
Jordan shifted back to female not long after, apparently preferring that state in private.
She stretched out on her bed, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, and opened a book about criminal justice authored by a Professor Brinkerhoff, ranked just below Godolkin’s dean in the school hierarchy.
She was reading it, and also watching Los with her peripheral vision.
Los.
Chinese-American.
Good looking, she noted.
Sharp features, lean build, around six feet.
The kind of composed, low-key energy you got from engineering types.
His listed ability was non-combat: object enhancement and degradation.
Essentially zero public profile.
Current student ranking at Godolkin: 384th.
Clearly no competition for a spot in the Lamplighter crime-fighting program.
The tension Jordan had been carrying, low and constant since the semester started, eased a fraction.
At Godolkin, your classmates were also your competition.
The school only placed five graduates into government contracts each year, and a spot in The Seven was a once-in-a-generation outcome.
Ranking mattered, and it mattered constantly.
Los sitting at nearly the bottom of the rankings let Jordan breathe a little easier, and actually gave her a reasonably good first impression of him.
It was the start of the semester.
Spring.
The hallway outside the dorm was thick with the noise and energy of students finding each other for the first time.
Jordan set her book down.
“Los, we’re going to be living together for three years.
We might as well get comfortable with each other now.”
“Sure, how do you want to do that?”
Los agreed without thinking much of it, assuming dinner or drinks, which was fine given his current finances.
What he didn’t expect was for Jordan to bite her lip lightly, pat the bed beside her, and let one hand rest at her collar before her fingers traced a slow line downward, over the curve of her chest, all the way to where her legs were crossed.
“Want to come up?”
She offered it with the same calm tone she’d use to suggest a board game.
Los nearly failed to adapt in time.
Were college students really this open?
A full-contact invitation from someone he’d known for five minutes.
He had to admit, though: that was some serious roommate energy.
The kind you couldn’t argue with.
From somewhere deep inside him, two low voices broke into quiet, raspy laughter.
Los silently told both shameless old ghosts to mind their own business.
Jordan clarified: “I’m not usually like this.
I just figured, since we’re going to be living together, and you’re not hard to look at, if the feeling was mutual there’d be no reason not to.”
She watched Los’s total lack of reaction and raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Are you into something else?
Or is female-me not your type?”
“Neither of those.”
Los just wasn’t looking to complicate things, so he took the diplomatic route.
“I’ve been on a plane all day and I’m running on empty.”
Even after being turned down, Jordan’s expression didn’t change.
She shrugged it off without a second thought and switched topics without missing a beat.
“Dinner together, then?”
The instant the words left her mouth she could feel something shift in Los: a sudden sharpness, an eagerness that had definitely not been there a second ago.
“Yes.
I’m completely ready, should we go now?”
Jordan looked at the fully energized, apparently non-exhausted Los across from her.
She found herself wondering whether the female version of herself was just not very compelling.
Ten minutes later.
A corner of the Godolkin University dining hall.
Jordan watched Los across the table as he worked his way through a steak and a burger with everything he had, and quietly put the pieces together.
Okay.
This guy was probably just broke.
She leaned back and said, with complete ease: “Los, meals on campus are on me from now on.”
Los was engaged in a focused battle with a medium-well steak when the words landed.
He was so moved he almost felt tears coming.
The world still has good people in it.
Real heroes.
Where did you find a roommate like this?
He swallowed, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and answered quickly.
“I’ll owe you.
I’ll pay it all back when I have money.”
“That works for me.”
Jordan nodded, swirled her wine glass and took a small sip, and didn’t press the point any further.
After dinner, the two of them headed back toward the dorms.
They were crossing the campus athletic field when a voice came from behind them, soaked in contempt.
“Hey babe, found yourself a companion already?”
Jordan’s jaw tightened.
Los turned with her.
A large white student stood there, built tall and wide, with several more shirtless guys in athletic gear grouped behind him.
His expression was a smirk, arms relaxed, hands in his pockets.
His gaze moved from Jordan to Los.
“You could have done better.
I’d give you a lot more to work with.”
“Rufus.
You got a death wish?”
Jordan’s already neutral face went cold.
She closed her fist.
“Come on then, let’s see if you’re worth that number 21 ranking you’ve got.”
Rufus crooked a finger at her, unbothered.
Jordan was ready to go, and was about to tell Los to get clear, given his non-combat ability.
Instead, Los stepped forward.
He pulled a steel pen from his jacket, gripped it in his right palm like a blade, and didn’t say a word.