The Dynamics:
•Sara (The "Oblivious" Catalyst): She treats the penthouse like a live-action manga. When Sam pins Alexander to the wall to fix his tie, she isn't thinking "romance," she's thinking, "Oh my god, the height difference is perfect."
•Alexander (The Cold Heir): He's used to everyone wanting his money. He's baffled by Sara, who looks at him not with greed, but with a weird, sparkly-eyed "support" for his supposed relationship with Daniel.
•Daniel (The Chaotic Idol): He's the first to realize they're in trouble. He tries to flirt with Sara, but she misinterprets his advances as him trying to make Sam jealous.
•Sam (The "Mother" Hen/ MMA Fighter): The most dangerous man in the room is also the one wearing a "Kiss the Cook" apron. His domesticity is the "proof" Sara needs that he's the "bottom" of the group.
•_•...•_•
The smell of the city was nothing like the scent of the soil back home. In the village, the air tasted of damp earth and woodsmoke; here, in the heart of metropolis, it tasted of exhaust fume and expensive perfume.
Sara clutched the handle of her scuffed, overstuffed suitcase, her knuckles white. She looked up at the glass-and-steel monolith that was the "Azure Heights" penthouse complex. This was a different world. She was here for one reason: to get her degree in Agricultural Business and save her father's farm from the mounting debts that kept him awake at night.
"Don't worry, Sarie," her father had said, patting her hand with his calloused palms. "My old friend Arthur owns the place. He's got a son living there with two friends. They're...well, they're safe. You won't have to worry about any 'boy trouble.'"
The "safety" her father alluded to was the secret he'd whispered later: 'The boys are into each other.' As an avid, secret consumer of "Boy's Love" web novels, Sara's anxiety had instantly transformed into a strange, bubbling excitement. She wasn't just moving into a penthouse; she was moving into a plotline.
The elevator ride to the 50th floor made her ears pop. When the doors slid open, she was greeted by a living room that looked more like a museum than a home. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a skyline that looked like scattered diamonds.
"You must be the charity case."
The voice was like ice hitting glass. Sara jumped, turning to see a man sitting on a velvet sofa. He had dark hair swept back perfectly and eyes that looked like they had never known a day of manual labor. This was Alexander.
"I-I'm Sara," she stuttered, bowing low. "I'll try not to be a bother."
Alexander eyed her simple linen dress and the strawberry-print ribbon in her hair. He sighed, a sound of pure exhaustion. "Just stay out of my way. This isn't a hotel."
Before Sara could apologize, a blur of neon yellow and loud laughter burst from a hallway. "Alex! Stop scaring the girl! She's adorable!"
Daniel skated into the room- literally, on socks- and slid to a stop in front of Sara. He was beautiful in a way that felt unfair, his blonde-streaked hair messy but fashionable. He leaned in close, sniffing the air near her shoulder. "Lavender? Real lavender? That's refreshing."
Sara's heart hammered, but her brain was already categorizing. 'The Playful Type. Definitely the one who initiates the skin-ship.'
"Leave her alone, Daniel. She looks like she's about to faint."
The third man entered from the kitchen. He was a mountain of muscle, wearing a tight black t-shirt that looked like it was fighting for its life against his biceps. Sam. He was carrying a spatula and wearing a pink apron that said 'Baking is my Cardio.'
Sara's eyes widened. She'd read about this. The "Big Grumpy One" who was secretly the most domestic. In her mind, a ligthbulb clicked. 'The Housewife.'
"Dinner is in ten," Sam said, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated in Sara's chest. He looked at her, his expression stern, his gaze scanning her from head to toe. "Wash your hands. We don't do germs here."
"Yes, sir!" Sara squeaked.
As she hurried toward the guest room they pointed out, she caught Sam placing a hand on Alexander's shoulder as he walked by, leaning down to mutter something about the grocery list.
Sara paused at her door, peaking back. Alexander didn't pull away; he just leaned his head back slightly, looking up at the muscular fighter.
'Oh,' Sara thought, her cheeks flushing with a mix of relief and "fan-girl" glee. 'Dad was right. They're...they're definitely a 'thing.' This is going to be the best three years of my life.'
She didn't notice the way all three men stopped what they were doing to watch her retreat, their expressions shifting from cold indifference to a sudden, lingering curiosity. They had agreed to the "pretend" rule to make her comfortable, but as the door clicked shut, the silence in the penthouse felt a lot heavier than it had five minutes ago.
•_•...•_•