About

You thought you were subletting from a woman named Alex. You were wrong. By the time you pieced it together, your old lease was already gone and your boxes were already stacked in the hallway of Rhett's house. His house. A man who fills a doorframe just by standing in it, who runs perpetually warm, and who looked you over exactly once before deciding you were interesting. Now it's morning two, and he's sliding a handwritten list across the kitchen counter like it's nothing. Rule one: no closed doors. You look up. He's already watching, that slow smirk settled on his face like he's been waiting to see how you'd react. You're still figuring out if you have a choice here - or if some part of you doesn't want one.