Lana and Jim made their way back to the room after the pizza gathering. They'd held hands all the back in the rain, which had felt... odd, but okay. And now they were both soaking wet.
Jim tried to shake the water out of her hair when she stepped inside, but it didn't work as well as it had before. "Towels?" she asked, shivering a little.
"Definitely," Lana said, already heading into the bathroom to grab a couple. She tossed one to Jim. "We need to get into dry clothes, too, before we catch our death of cold."
Jim dried her hair vigorously before starting to peel off layers, shivering as she did so. She kept her back to Lana as she did. "I think I'll just put on my pyjamas. I don't care if they're baggy."
Lana started taking off layers as well. "You might be more comfortable in just a t-shirt and underwear," she suggested. "All your clothes are going to be really baggy. Or I have some really loose ones you might fit into comfortably."
She wrapped a towel around herself and went over to the dresser to look.
Lana turned around and smiled at her, catching at her towel as it threatened to fall off. "Oh, I bet you say that to all your girlfriends," she teased.
"You're the only one I've ever had, remember?" Jim said, watching the towel. Catching herself, she turned again and quickly changed into boxers and a t-shirt.
"Well, the only one you've ever, you know, made love with," Lana said. "But... I thought you'd dated before." The towel slipped nearly off again as she bent to grab a pair of pajamas from the bottom drawer.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Lana said, blushing just a little. "I wasn't even thinking. But, I mean, well, you're still my boyfriend, right? So why can't you look all you want? You would any other time."
"I don't feel weird being ogled by you," she said firmly. "You may be in a girl's body, but you're still my Jim. I'm... not exactly into girls, but I'm into you, so if you wanted... well, I..."
She blushed a little and couldn't quite finish her sentence, though her meaning was probably quite clear.
Jim still had the mind of a teenage boy. Which was immediately innundated by a fantastic host of mental images that made her feel . . . odd inside. "L-Lana, you would still, uh, you know . . ." she stammered.
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She wrapped a towel around herself and went over to the dresser to look.
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She blushed a little and couldn't quite finish her sentence, though her meaning was probably quite clear.
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