The silence in the villa wasn't comforting. It was heavy. Familiar. Suffocating.
Gia Stevens sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor of her grandparents' old living room, staring at her phone. The screen displayed her tuition balance in bold red letters:
> Balance Due: $3,800. Final Notice.
Her fingers tightened around the chipped mug in her hand. The coffee had long gone cold, but the bitter smell kept her grounded. She glanced around at the empty space—antique furniture collecting dust, creaky floorboards echoing in every step, and five bedrooms she couldn't maintain.
The house was beautiful once, a quiet gift left behind when both her grandparents passed. Now, it was just too much—too big, too quiet, too expensive.
Her mom had vanished to California with a yoga instructor. Her dad stopped answering her calls somewhere in New York. At seventeen, Gia was alone. Completely. And drowning.
She tapped on the rental app.
> Listing: 4 ROOMS FOR RENT – Near West Ridge High & Harrison University
$500/month. Utilities included. Immediate availability.
Quiet environment. Female landlord. No drama.
She hesitated, then hit Post.
She didn't expect a reply.
Certainly not tonight.
But five minutes later—
Knock. Knock.
Her breath caught.
The clock read 8:17 p.m.
Another knock. Steady. Calm. Not rushed, not nervous.
She crept to the door, glanced through the peephole.
Four boys. Tall. Hooded. Faces partially hidden under shadows and porchlight. Hands tucked into their jacket pockets. They weren't speaking. They weren't moving.
They just stood there, waiting.
Gia hesitated. Then slowly unlocked the door, leaving the chain latched.
"Can I help you?"
"We saw your listing," said the one in front. His voice was low. Neutral. Almost too calm.
She blinked. "You're already here?"
"We were close by," he said.
"You all want rooms?"
"Yes," he answered. "If they're still available."
She looked them over—and blinked again.
They were... striking. All of them. Each in a different way. Tall and clean-cut, their features sharp under the porchlight. They didn't just look like university boys. They looked like models who'd gotten lost on their way to a photo shoot.
Gia swallowed hard.
Her cheeks warmed before she could stop them.
"You don't want to see the house first?" she asked, trying not to sound too flustered.
"We're not picky," said the one with glasses. "We just need a place."
Another one—broad-shouldered and chewing gum—grinned. "We're not murderers, if that helps."
Gia gave a nervous chuckle, trying to look like she wasn't staring.
"IDs?" she asked.
They each handed over their university cards.
Ken Taylor – the gum-chewer with a playful grin and restless eyes
Roy Carter – calm and confident, with a movie-star smile
Leonardo Park – quiet and observant, clearly the type who watches before speaking
Ace Hunter – the one who spoke first. Cold. Reserved. Unreadable.
She looked at the last card again. "Ace?"
He gave a single nod. No smile.
Gia opened the door a little wider and stepped aside. "You can come in."
They stepped inside, one after the other, with polite nods and quiet footsteps. Their movements were calm, deliberate—too measured for college guys who supposedly found a place last-minute. Like they were used to being careful.
Ken let out a low whistle. "Old place. Real wood. Not bad."
Roy added with a small smile, "You just saved us from sleeping in a van. Seriously."
Leonardo didn't say much, but his eyes lingered on the details—door frames, hallways, exits. Like someone who liked to know where everything was.
Ace kept his distance, saying nothing. He took everything in but gave nothing back.
Gia watched them with cautious curiosity, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. Their politeness didn't feel fake, but it felt... rehearsed. Like they were trained to blend in.
"The rooms are upstairs," she said, her voice softer now. "I can show you—"
"We'll be fine," Leonardo said gently. "We don't want to trouble you this late."
Ace was the last to meet her gaze before following the others. His stare was steady. Not aggressive. But not casual, either.
Gia's pulse kicked up.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
That was all. No smirk. No expression. Just the word. And then he turned.
They headed up the stairs together—not disappearing, not lurking. Just four new tenants making their way into a house they now shared.
And yet, as they moved upstairs, Gia couldn't shake the feeling that something about them didn't fit. Like their perfect behavior was a costume—and she had just invited the entire cast into her home.
She stood there, hand still on the doorknob, her cheeks flushed and heart oddly unsettled.
She didn't know what she had let in tonight.
But they weren't ordinary boys.