21 JULIAN
The tires screech as we pull into the parking lot of Rhea's apartment complex. My eyes scan the surroundings - broken beer bottles scattered across cracked pavement, graffiti decorating the brick walls, a flickering street lamp that's probably seen better days. Not exactly the safest part of town.
"Jesus," I mutter, taking in the busted mailboxes and overturned trash cans littering the entrance.
Rhea's already out of the car before we fully stop, her boots pounding up the metal stairs two at a time. The stairwell rattles with each step.
"Rhea, wait!" I call out, exchanging glances with Corey and Tobias before we sprint after her.
"Brianne!" Rhea's voice echoes through the stairwell. "I'm coming!"
The emergency exit door slams against the wall as she bursts through it. We follow close behind, our footsteps thundering up the rickety steps. The dim fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting strange shadows.
"This building's a death trap," Corey pants beside me.
"Less talking, more running," Tobias grunts from behind.
We reach her floor just as Rhea skids to a stop in front of her apartment door, which hangs slightly ajar. Through the gap, I catch glimpses of upturned furniture and scattered papers.
"Stay behind me," I say, moving in front of her.
"Like hell I will." Rhea pushes past, her shoulder bumping mine as she charges forward.
The door creaks open to reveal the full extent of the damage.
Glass crunches under our feet as we enter, and the sharp smell of spray paint fills the air.
"Brianne?" Rhea calls out, her voice shaking slightly.
A head pops up from behind an overturned couch.
"Oh thank god, I was about to- holy mother of..."
Brianne's eyes go wide as she takes in our little rescue party.
Her gaze darts between Corey's exposed chest, Tobias's massive frame, and me.
"Did you... did you get the wrong number and call a stripper service instead of the cops?"
Rhea's face flushes crimson. "These are my coworkers from the bar."
"The ones you had a sleepover with?" Brianne's eyebrows shoot up as she straightens her glasses. "And they all just happened to be shirtless when you called?"
"We were sleeping," Corey explains, crossing his arms. The movement makes his muscles flex, and I notice Brianne's mouth drop open slightly.
"I can see that." She fans herself dramatically. "Very clearly."
"Bri, focus please?" Rhea gestures at the chaos around us. "What happened?"
"Right, sorry." Brianne tears her eyes away from Tobias's biceps.
"I came home and found... this. The door was already broken when I got here. Nothing seems stolen, but..." She points to the wall where spray paint spells out 'YOU'RE IN OVER YOUR HEAD’ STAY OUT’'.
"Did you see anyone?" I ask, moving closer to examine the damage.
"No, but there was a black SUV peeling out of the parking lot when I pulled in."
Corey and I exchange looks.
"You can't stay here," Tobias says, his deep voice breaking the tension.
"Both of you," Corey adds. "Pack some bags. You're coming with us."
"I should call Mark," Brianne says, pulling out her phone. "He's been begging me to move in with him anyway. At least temporarily."
"You sure?" Rhea chews her bottom lip, hands twisting the hem of her shirt.
"Are you kidding? This is perfect." Brianne's eyes sparkle with mischief as she gestures at us. "You get three hot bodyguards, and I get to finally test drive living with Mark without technically moving in. Win-win."
"I don't need bodyguards," Rhea protests, but her voice lacks conviction.
"Sweetie." Brianne grabs Rhea's shoulders.
"Someone just trashed our apartment and left a threatening message. You're not staying here, and I'm not letting you get a hotel room alone. These guys clearly know what they're doing."
She pauses, eyeing us. "Well, at looking intimidating anyway. Maybe not so much with the whole wearing shirts thing."
Corey clears his throat. "We should get moving. Pack what you need."
"Already on it." Brianne's fingers fly across her phone screen.
"Mark’s coming to get me. And you-" She points at Rhea. "You're going with them. No arguments."
"But-"
"Nope." Brianne pops the 'p'. "Consider it roommate's orders.
Plus, I'll feel better knowing you're with people who can actually protect you. Even if they are criminally attractive and suspiciously shirtless."
I can't help but grin at that. Brianne's got balls, I'll give her that.
"Fine," Rhea sighs, throwing her hands up in defeat. "But only because you're being so pushy about it."
"That's my girl." Brianne beams. "Now go pack before I change my mind and make you come third-wheel with me and Mark instead."
I watch Rhea disappear into her bedroom, the sound of drawers opening and closing echoing through the trashed apartment.
Brianne's already on the phone with whom I assume is her boyfriend, pacing between overturned furniture.
"Need help?" I call out, leaning against the doorframe of Rhea's room.
She's shoving clothes into a duffel bag, her movements jerky and rushed. "I got it."
"Clearly." I step over a pile of books scattered across the floor.
"You're putting clean clothes in with your dirty gym shoes."
"Fuck." She yanks everything back out. "I just... I can't think straight."
"Here." I grab a second bag from her closet. "Dirty stuff in here.
Clean in there. Basic organization skills 101."
"Thanks, professor." She rolls her eyes but follows my suggestion.
"This is temporary, right? Just until whoever did this backs off?"
"Right." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
"You're a horrible liar, Julian." She stuffs a handful of socks into the bag. "Your left eye twitches."
"Does not."
"There it goes again."
I rub my eye, annoyed. "Just pack your shit, smartass."
She grabs her laptop, charger, and a few books. "That's all I need.
Everything else can wait."
"Rhea!" Brianne calls from the living room. "Mark’s here. You good?"
"Yeah." Rhea zips up both bags. "Just... be careful, okay?"
"Me?" Brianne snorts. "I'm not the one moving in with three hot guys who clearly have some sketchy side stripper business going on."
"We're not sketchy," I protest.
Both women stare at me.
"Okay, maybe a little sketchy. But we're the good kind of sketchy."
"That's not a thing," Rhea says, shouldering her bags.
"Sure it is. Like Robin Hood. Or Batman."
"So you're saying you're vigilantes now?"
"I'm saying we should go before someone comes back to admire their handiwork."
That shuts them both up. We head down to the parking lot where Mark's waiting in his Camry. After a quick goodbye between the roommates, we hop in the truck and head back home.