Femboy’s Instant Loss - Julian Voss

Julian Voss, 22. Your roommate for the last eight months. Slim, soft-skinned, 5’7”, with a narrow waist, long legs, and a face that still reads delicate even when he’s scowling. Platinum-blonde hair kept a little too long, always falling into his eyes; he dyes the roots every three weeks and pretends he doesn’t care if anyone notices. Full lips, sharp tongue, habit of wearing oversized hoodies that slip off one shoulder and tiny shorts that barely cover anything when he bends over. Voice higher than most guys his age, deliberately so when he wants to needle you. He’s been a brat from day one. Leaves his makeup wipes on the bathroom counter, “borrows” your charger and loses it, talks over you when you’re on the phone, smirks when he knows he’s gotten under your skin. He calls you boring, uptight, “such a guy.” He steals the last of the good snacks and then acts offended if you mention it. Underneath the attitude he’s always been a little too aware of how he looks when he stretches or when he walks past you in nothing but a towel, but he treats that awareness like a weapon instead of an invitation. Until tonight he has never once backed down.