It happened during a school trip.

There were sixteen of us, seven boys and nine girls, and we’d be staying at a hotel for a four-day-three-night cultural trip to visit art museums in the capital. The people who were coming along were all my classmates, but I considered them all virtually strangers. My friends, as well as most of the other students in class, had ultimately decided not to go. I can’t blame them: it was already summer, the classes were over, most of the people were either enjoying their vacations somewhere else or relaxing at home. It was only us art nerds that got hyped up about the possibility of traveling 500km to spend three whole days cooped up inside museums.

We arrived in the hotel at about half past midnight. The teacher had booked us five rooms, two for the boys and three for the girls. Some of the girls had already made friends with each other during the trip, and were planning on rooming together. Myself, I was never very good at making friends, so I didn’t even bother trying. It would be fine if they just put me in whichever room still had a spot free.

“Polly,” the teacher called me, after we’d arrived. “You’re in room three with Tabatha and Ocean. Here’s a key, make sure you don’t lose it.”

I shrugged. I was never the type to lose important stuff like that, but I guess the teacher wouldn’t know that.

As I made my way to the room, I tried to remember who my roommates were. I knew Tabatha, we’d worked together in an English assignment, a few months back, unless there was someone else with that name in my class. As for Ocean… wasn’t she that blonde who always sat in the back of the room? I wouldn’t have pegged her as the type who liked art, and even less as the type to be put in the “leftovers” hotel room during the school trip. Maybe she was antisocial?

I walked into the room, and found Tabatha sitting in one of the beds, fussing with some stuff inside her travel bag.

“Hey,” she said, when she saw me.

“Hello,” I replied. “Is this bed taken?” I asked, pointing at the one nearest to the window.

“That’s Ocean’s,” said Tabatha. “She claimed it as soon as we walked in.”

“Where is she, now?” I asked, moving to place my stuff on top of the remaining bed.

“Bathroom,” said Tabatha, simply, directing her attention back to whatever it was that she was trying to do inside her bag.

I laid down on my back and stared at the ceiling for a bit. It was pretty late, already, and we were going to wake up early the next day, to visit the museums. I should probably just take a bath and go to sleep.

As I was thinking that, I heard a shout from inside the bathroom.

“Ouch!” said the voice. “Shoot.”

“Ocean?” Tabatha called. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course not,” she replied. Then I heard the bathroom door slide open. Ocean was standing in the doorway, wearing a bathrobe. Her blonde hair was wet, which made it look somewhat darker, falling in curls around her head. I felt weird, looking at her, then. It was like I was seeing something I shouldn’t be allowed to, something too private. It made no sense, though. I was used to seeing people in bikinis, which cover a lot less skin than a bathrobe does, so why is it that the bathrobe bothered me so much more?

Ocean paid no mind to my staring. She was looking pissed off. “The fucking shower tried to kill me,” she complained.

Tabatha laughed. “What the hell?” she said.

“It’s true!” Ocean exclaimed. “Come here and see.”

Tabatha and I got up and walked to the bathroom. The shower was still running, steam coming in from behind the curtain. Tabatha walked up there, opened the curtain, then looked at the perfectly normal shower head above her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Try turning the tap,” said Ocean.

Tabatha reached for one of the shower taps on the wall, but as soon as she’d touched it, she retreated.

“Yikes!” she yelped.

“You see?” said Ocean.

“What happened?” I asked, while standing outside the door.

“It’s electrified,” Tabatha explained. “This thing zapped me when I touched it.

“So it’s an electrical problem?” I asked. “Should we call the hotel staff?”

“What, you crazy?” asked Ocean, surprised. “At least let me get dressed first.”

“Then go get dressed,” said Tabatha. “I’m gonna try to find someone to help.”

Tabatha got her keys from her bed, and walked to the door, leaving me alone in the room with Ocean.

Ocean sighed. “Fine,” she said.

As I watched Tabatha go, an idea occurred to me.

“Hey, do you think I should—” I turned to look at Ocean, and stopped in mid-sentence. She had taken off the bathrobe and was stark naked inside the bathroom. Now I was definitely seeing something I wasn’t supposed to. I felt my body react to that in ways that were definitely improper if you were just looking at a friend.

Ocean herself didn’t even look at me. She was probably still too irritated about the shower thing to care. “Should what?” she asked, while she put on her panties and bra.

I realized I had been staring for too long. I turned around, looking away from her.

“The… people in the other rooms,” I explained. “Maybe they’ll let us bathe there.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said the girl. After a moment, she walked out of the bathroom, standing beside me. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

I turned to look at her. By then, thankfully, Ocean had already put on her shirt and jeans. My eyes were immediately drawn to her cleavage, and once I realized that, I quickly looked away.

“It’s nothing,” I told her, hurriedly. “I’ll go ask them, now.

I walked briskly to the door, and once I was safely outside, I panicked.

Dear Polly, what the fuck is wrong with you? Did you seriously just get aroused watching a female classmate changing in front of you?

Outside on the corridor, my heart was going a mile a minute. I simply couldn’t take the image of Ocean’s body out of my mind. I always knew that I was a bit odd, but I never thought it was like this!

Despite my shock, there was no doubt in my mind. I mean, there were no two ways to look at this. I felt sexually attracted toward a girl. Meaning I was like that: lesbian, or bi, or whatever. Heck, my parents would kill me if they knew. Moreover, it seemed that I had the hots for a classmate, and that said classmate simply didn’t mind getting naked in front of me, which further complicated things. Suppose she ever found out? I bet she’d feel disgusted, maybe even ask the teacher to put us in different rooms. And then there would be rumors. I can’t let this happen. It’s okay, Polly, you just found out you’re gay, that’s all good and all, now you just make sure to act natural so nobody will figure it out. You can do this, girl.

I remembered that I was supposed to be going to the other girls’ rooms, to ask them if we can take our baths there instead. In my panic, though, I completely forgot that I had no idea which rooms the other girls were staying at. I had no idea where our teacher was, either, and I didn’t have the courage to go back inside to ask Ocean (what if she was naked in there again?). Maybe I should just wait for Tabatha to return.

Just then, the door to our room opened, and I saw Ocean standing in the doorway, looking at me.

“Oh, you’re still here?” she asked, sounding surprised.

I still couldn’t look at her.

“I’m… trying to remember which rooms the other girls are in,” I admitted.

“Marcy’s group is in room number nine,” said Ocean, in a matter-of-fact sort of way. “I don’t know about the others.”

“Right, thanks,” I said, and started walking down the corridor.

“Hey, Polly!” Ocean shouted. I stopped and turned to look at her. “It’s that way,” she said, pointing at the opposite direction to which I was going.

I shook my head, embarrassed. “Sorry,” I said, and began walking in the direction she pointed.

Ocean chuckled. “What’s wrong with you, today?” she asked.

I walked away without answering her. “Trust me, Ocean,” I thought, “you really don’t want to know.”