By Greg Alexander
I could hardly contain my excitement when I walked into my freshman dorm room and saw Trevor standing there.
Sure, I had known I was going to be rooming with a big jock, a much discussed new recruit for both the university crew team and tennis teams, and I’d heard he was already planning on pledging Delta Psi, the most hardcore frat on campus. But I hadn’t realized how stunningly hot he’d be.
When I walked in, he was just wearing work-out shorts, a tight undershirt, and a big pair of white sneakers with no socks, so that his ankle bones were clearly visible. I almost sprang a boner there on the spot. He was incredibly tall, with a lean and muscular frame, and broad shoulders. He had jet black hair, curly yet cropped very short and close to his head, which made him look even more masculine. His face was boyish, cleanly shaved and with delicate features, but you could tell from his fiery blue eyes the boy meant business. I knew right away I didn’t want to cross Trevor.
I tried to make conversation with him when I walked in — he was unpacking his socks and underwear and athletic gear from a large, old fashioned trunk in which he seemed to have packed most of his clothing. As he removed his undershirts and underwear by the bundles, he spread them out onto a padded reclining chair and a large coffee table he had already moved into the room. He was distant, and his mind was definitely otherwise engaged.
“Whatya up to?” I asked.
“Nothin. I’m late for practice,” he grunted. On his way out of the dorm room, he kicked off his shoes for a second to pull on a pair of thick white tennis socks. For that one brief second, I caught a glimpse of his bare feet, and my jaw almost dropped. They were big feet, beautifully tanned, nice and moist too. I got the idea that Trevor always liked to keep his feet shielded — not a big fan of walking around the dorm room barefoot, judging by his unmarked soles. Maybe he wanted to make sure they didn’t get spoiled for his tennis games, I thought to myself.
