I have the worst sense of direction. Like, clinically terrible.

Every damn time, Luke—my landlord—has to come get me.

At first, he was a dick about it.
“I’m your landlord, not your goddamn boyfriend. Stop bothering me.”

Then it turned into,
“You want me pulling up in the Lambo today or the Maybach?”

Eventually,
“This whole no-name-no-title thing’s getting stupid. I’ll be your boyfriend, alright? Makes this shit less awkward.”

Chapter 1

“Three grand a month. One-month deposit, three upfront. Take it or leave it.”

That’s how I met Luke Wilder, my landlord.

He said it like a damn drill sergeant while wearing a faded white tank that clung to his broad shoulders and showed off his stupidly sculpted arms.
His waist? Snatched. Like, unfairly.

I gulped.

He fished a jingling keyring out of his cargo shorts and squinted at me. “Mia, you good or what?”

Snapping out of my thirst trance, I nodded and signed the lease.

Just as he turned to leave, I blurted, “Can I… add you on something? Like, for emergencies?”

Luke sighed and whipped out a phone that looked like it’d survived three wars. “Make it quick. I got somewhere to be.”

I barely got his info before he bolted.

After moving in, I finally collapsed onto the couch. My best friend FaceTimed me.

“Girl, you really moved?”

“Yeah. The old place got put up for sale.”

“You were there five freakin’ years. You just figured out how to get home without Google Maps. And now you’re gonna start over? Babe, are you okay?”

No. No, I was not.

It took me two whole years to learn the last route. And I still got lost sometimes.

I sighed. “We’ll see how bad it gets.”

The next evening after work, I decided to try walking home solo.

It went about as well as you’d expect.

I ended up… somewhere.

Somewhere with no buses, no Ubers, no cell service. Just dirt roads and broken dreams.

Panicked, I texted Luke.

Me: “Hey… can I ask a favor?”
Luke: “Shoot.”
Me: “I’m kinda lost. Can you come get me? I’m so sorry, I swear I won’t bug you again.”

No reply.

Five minutes passed.

I was sweating bullets when he finally responded:
Luke: “Send me your location.”

I looked around.

“There’s nothing here,” I whispered. “Just… dirt.”

He called.
I hate talking on the phone. But I answered. Because fear trumps anxiety.

“What do you see around you?” His voice was low. Irritated.

“Um. Just… like… an abandoned construction site. And there’s a cloud above me that looks kinda like a flower.”

Long pause.

“You better not be speaking in riddles right now.”

Eventually, he told me to share my live location.

Night fell fast.

Wind howled. Some animal made a weird-ass noise.

And Luke hadn’t texted again.

I was this close to crying when a busted-up moped pulled up next to me. A sweaty old creep leered at me.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Lost? I can give you a ride.”

His eyes slithered over me like a goddamn snake.

I stepped back. “No thanks. My boyfriend’s on his way.”

He chuckled darkly. “Night’s a bad time to be out here alone, baby. I’m not a bad guy. Come on, let Uncle take care of you.”

He reached out.

Then BAM—

A foot slammed into his chest, launching him halfway across the lot.

Chapter 2

The creep hit the ground hard, cussing up a storm.
“What the fuck—?!”

Luke stepped in front of me like a human wall. One arm steady around my waist.

His voice dropped low, lethal:
“Touch her again and I’ll snap every fucking finger you’ve got.”

I was still shaking in the passenger seat.

He cranked the heater without a word.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’ll Venmo you for gas…”

Luke kept his eyes on the road, brows tight, jaw clenched.

I didn’t say another word.

When we pulled up to my complex, he finally broke the silence.

“Next time, remember where the fuck you live. I’m not your personal Uber.”

My face burned. “Right… I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

I bolted out of the car like it was on fire.

Later that night, I ran into him again while taking out the trash.

“You live here too?” I blurted out.

He gave me a once-over. “Sometimes.”

He smirked. “At least you didn’t get lost throwing out garbage.”

I laughed awkwardly. “It’s pretty close, I’m fine.”

His smirk faded.

“You’re actually… that bad at directions?”

“Yeah. Pretty bad. I got lost a lot as a kid. Like… a lot.”

He didn’t reply. Just shut the door.

Back in my place, guilt gnawed at me. I owed him. Like, a lot.

If he hadn’t shown up tonight…

I baked a quick batch of cookies and walked over.

Ding-dong.

Ten minutes later, the door cracked open.

“I told you to just leave the food by the—”

Luke stopped mid-sentence.

His hair was damp. Chest bare. Just a pair of gray gym shorts on.
He looked like trouble. The good kind. The dangerous kind.

My brain short-circuited. “Uh… hi. Landlord.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I just… wanted to thank you for earlier. Here.”

I shoved the warm cookies into his hand and practically sprinted away.

The next day, I ordered a rideshare after work. No way I was bothering Luke again.

Halfway home—boom—flat tire.

The driver sighed. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll drop you here. You just walk the rest. Straight down, take a left, cross the highway, then hang a right.”

I stared at him like he was speaking Latin.

He left me there.

And it started raining.

Like, full-on thunderstorm raining.

I found shelter under the awning of a nearby mall.

Everyone else got picked up by someone—family, lovers, roommates.

I just stood there. Soaked. Alone.

Before my best friend left for her out-of-town job, she’d hugged me tight:
“Mia, I swear, you’re a walking disaster. Just find a boyfriend who can handle your chaos. Someone who’ll make sure you don’t get lost or mugged.”

A boyfriend, huh?

For some reason, Luke’s face popped into my head.

He wasn’t hot in a magazine-cover way. But he had that fuck-around-and-find-out look.
Buzzed hair. Tanned skin. The kind of muscles that told you he actually used ‘em.
I thought about how he kicked that perv like it was a reflex.

I felt something thump in my chest.

Just then—my phone lit up.

Luke: “Where the hell are you now?”

Chapter 3

10:07 PM. My phone buzzed.

Luke Wilder.

I blinked at the name, double-checked the profile photo. Yeah, definitely him.

My heart started doing somersaults. Luke never texts first.

He wrote:
“Still stuck working this late?”

I typed:

“Yeah, overtime…”

Deleted it.

Typed again:

“Caught in the rain outside the mall.”

Deleted that too.

“No Ubers in this weather…”

Delete. Delete. Delete.

He must’ve seen me typing and deleting like an idiot, because next thing I got was:
“Drop a pin.”

Me: “Huh?”

Luke: “Your location. Send it. I’ll come get you.”

Me: “Isn’t that a hassle?”

Luke: “Better hassle than a missing persons report.”

Okay, well… damn.

By the time his Maybach pulled up to the mall, it was almost 10:30. There were still plenty of rain-soaked people huddled under the awning with me.

Someone spotted the sleek black ride pulling up.

“Holy shit, that’s a Maybach.”
“Who’s the lucky girl getting picked up in that?”
“I hate my boyfriend’s moped even more now.”

I craned my neck like everyone else… and there he was.

Luke.
Walking toward me under a massive black umbrella like he belonged in a goddamn commercial.

“Let’s go,” he said coolly.

The entire crowd stared. I felt like I had a neon sign over my head: THE GIRL HE CAME FOR.

I caught someone whispering, “Seriously? Her? She’s basic as hell.”

Another said, “Maybe hot rich guys are into average girls now. I’m confused.”

Luke glanced their way, and those bitches shut up fast.

Back at the apartment complex, Luke parked and went into the nearby 7-Eleven. He came back with instant ramen.

Just as he got in, my stomach growled like a beast.

He stared at the cup noodles, then at me.

Then, without a word, got out and went back inside.

When he returned, he had grocery bags: a box of angel hair pasta, eggs, and some pickled jalapeños.

Luke started boiling water in the kitchenette like it was the most normal thing ever.

I sat awkwardly at the little dining table and pulled out my phone.

Post:

“So… if your hot AF rich landlord picks you up in his luxury car, cooks for you, and doesn’t ask for rent favors… what does it mean???”

The replies rolled in fast.

“Girl, you writing fanfic?”
“Tell me your delusions without telling me.”
“Landlord fantasy level: ✨ unlocked ✨”
“Plot twist: he’s trying to deduct this on his taxes.”

One comment stood out:

“Either he’s into you… or he’s collecting organs.”

Luke placed two bowls of noodles on the table. “This and ramen are the only things I can make. Don’t expect Gordon Ramsay.”

I smiled like he’d just handed me a Michelin-starred meal. “Thank you…”

I slurped a bite. He watched me, then casually asked, “You’re not worried I drugged it?”

I choked so hard I almost died.

He chuckled. “Relax. Kidding.”

His gaze sharpened. “But seriously, stop trusting men so easily. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”