daniela’s apartment | june 13th | 6:01pm | @dera-mcclery
It had been a long, annoying, and sweaty day; without fail, the most grueling field hockey practices tended to fall on blisteringly hot summer afternoons. It was a blessing that practice was tacked onto the tail end of her schedule. No matter how much she genuinely looked forward to running laps on field just on the outskirts of MWU’s campus, being sore was a bitch. And it was only after leaving the locker room, freshly-showered and bag slung over her shoulder, that her phone pinged from her pocket as a friendly reminder that she was meant to meet her friend at her apartment fifteen minutes ago.
Oops. Speed-walking could only get Daniela so far, and she was still nearly half an hour late by the time she’d ran up the steps and caught a glimpse of Dera waiting outside of her apartment door. “Shit. Sorry, Dera,” she apologized profusely, fumbling for a minute to get her keys out of her bag. “Practice ran late and I kind of forgot we were supposed to study. Not that your time isn’t vitally important, of course, but I seriously reeked about half an hour ago so you should probably be really glad I was late after all.” Jiggling her key in the lock and unlocking the door, she shot Dera a bright smile. “You haven’t been rotting away out here too long, have you?” Swinging the door open, she stepped into her mismatched, brightly-colored apartment, expecting Dera to follow her in without needing an invitation.