Jennifer was halfway down the stairs outside the landlady's office when she collided with a wall of warm solidity.
"Oof—sorry—!"
She had no idea how this happened. She knew she was looking for the landlady. The building deed and sales agreement were still in her hands (although it was also now crushed against a strikingly handsome man.)
Jennifer quickly stepped back, but tripped over her own feet because yes, that was how life worked for Jennifer.
Strong hands caught her by the elbows before she could tip forward. Firm. Steady. Very real.
"Are you alright?" the man asked. He seemed quite used to having women fall over themselves around him.
He was tall. Broad-shouldered without being bulky. Dressed casually—dark jacket, plain T-shirt, jeans—but everything fit like it had been chosen by someone who understood the value of restraint. His hair was dark, slightly tousled, like he hadn't bothered taming it because he didn't need to. His eyes—
Oh no.
His eyes were dangerous. Calm, sharp, observant. The kind that missed nothing and judged little.
Jennifer's brain, traitor that it was, supplied a completely unhelpful thought:
Oh. You're trouble.
"You okay?" he asked.
"No." Because Jennifer was always honest when she was shocked, but then she realized she must look like an idiot and came to, "I mean—yes. I'm fine."
He smiled. Not wide. Not flashy. Just enough.
"I was heading to the office," he said, nodding behind her. "Are you the landlady?"
Jennifer stupidly looked down at the building deed.
"Maybe."
"Maybe?" He looked amused.
Jennifer kicked herself mentally, but it did nothing for her current mental abilities.
He unfolded a lease agreement, "These are signed. I came to settle the deposit and first month of rent."
"Ah," she said.
She reached out towards the office door. She wanted to say, "The landlady should be in here."
But her mouth was not working.
So she grabbed the doorknob, completely forgetting to knock, and it turned.
The door opened. The room was lit.
His gaze flicked over her, curious now. "After you."
Jennifer hesitated. There was no one else in the room. She should probably call the landlady, she reached for her phone only to realize that she had left in back at her apartment.
Luckily a ruckus coming up the stairs interrupted any possibility for awkward explanations.
"Boss, boss—where did you go?"
Jennifer barely had time to blink before a group of boys spilled out of the stairway in an explosion of noise, limbs, and chaos.
Five of them.
Young. Too young. All tall, lean, and aggressively good-looking in the way only people under twenty-five could manage without irony. They were dressed like they were trying very hard not to look dressed—hoodies, caps, sunglasses indoors for no reason.
One of them stopped dead when he saw Jennifer.
"Oh. Hello," he said brightly, grinning. "Are you our landlady?"
It was so bright, Jennifer felt immediately like a deer caught in high beam.
"No," Jennifer said, but just mostly in panic.
"I thought our landlady was a grandma?" another asked.
"Yes," she said because she was still panicking.
"Ah," said the third, nodding sagely. "So you're the landlady's assistant."
Jennifer narrowed her eyes. Wait, that was actually a good idea. Her frail elderly landlady could do with an assistant.
The man beside her sighed. "Behave."
Instantly, five spines straightened.
"Once over. Please greet…" the man looked at her.
"J…Jen." Jennifer managed to stutter out.
"Please greet Ms. Jen properly." The man commanded.
At this, the boys posed and took their turns:
"I'm Andy."
"I'm Liam."
"Ives here."
"Vicky."
"EJ."
And then, in chorus, they posed: "And we're ALIVE!"
Oh. My. God.
The blindingly bright fake energy. The cheesiness of the most terrible kind. Jennifer cringed inwardly and felt deep shame for ever thinking such a boy band name was brilliant.
The man shrugged apologetically. "Sorry. They're loud."
His sexiness wasn't helping. Jennifer forgot to breathe every time he spoke.
"We are not loud. We're energetic!" one protested.
"Charismatic," said another.
"Internationally marketable," added a third.
Wait. What? Who goes around saying crap like that?
But Jennifer was suddenly recognizing these people. Something in her chest gave a small, unpleasant thud.
The boy named Liam in particular had… nice hair. Really nice hair. Styled but soft, the kind that caught the light unfairly. His smile was practiced, charming, effortless.
Oh no.
The world tilted—just a fraction.
"Liam," she repeated.
"Yes!" the boy beamed. "L for Liam. And also for Leader."
Jennifer took a deep breath. "Adrian, right?"
Because yes, in her webnovel, that was the name of Liam's agent.
The sexy man smiled. "Yes." He held up the lease and cheque to her.
This man should be illegal.
Jennifer stupidly received the documents. She only came to after Adrian herded the boys upstairs to "check out their new crib."
What just happened?
Jennifer shook her head. Okay, let's just go back upstairs and call the landlady.
She put the documents in the fancy leather tray on the desk. Then she shut the office door and walked away without looking back.
Her heart was beating faster than it had any right to.
It had to be a coincidence. Just coincidence.
But somewhere deep inside, a accusing voice whispered:
You definitely wrote this.