Cassandra
It's 11:00 p.m. on a Sunday night and I'm barefoot. I'm barefoot and hurrying down the empty, quiet halls of the apartment complex, eager to get to my happy place. My happy place used to be my bedroom, where it was quiet, peaceful, and I felt serene surrounded by my gray walls. Now, my happy place is turning out to be Apartment Number 42, Drew's apartment.
Once I reach the door, I knock and he emerges within seconds, wearing only green plaid boxers. His buff, athletic build is on full display and my eyes uncontrollably rake his body, appreciating the six-pack and muscular legs that he works hard to get. His arms are nicely toned, but I can tell by one look that he focuses more on his abdomen and legs when in the gym.
"Hey, babe," he says in a groggy voice, rubbing his eyes.
