Loving Miss Sassy

I am sure of four things: I’m the most sought-after social influencer. I’m prepared to kick ass and take names. I’m going to conquer the Big Apple. I wasn’t prepared to have an unexpected roommate who happens to be drop-dead gorgeous. Being the younger sister of two overprotective brothers taught me to be tenacious. Granted, that didn’t fare well when I mistook my roomie for an intruder. Fine, maybe a right hook wasn’t the most ladylike greeting, but his black eye only lasted a week. How was I supposed to know said intruder was also my advertising adversary? The answer: I didn’t. And having a single wall separating our bedrooms only adds more angst to my list. I’m sure I’ll never get a good night’s rest wondering if he sleeps commando . . . if those are moans I hear or snores . . . if he imagines me in his bed as I imagine him in mine. The list goes on and on. The most shocking thing I wasn’t prepared for was how he managed to capture my heart . . . right before he shattered it. He called me Miss Sassy, and I proved him right.