Page 3 of Hooked on Love

Luke.

Oh, god. Luke from across the hall, who helped arrange the sublet and assured me this apartment was safe and quiet and mine for the next three months until I find something more permanent in the area.

“Luke doesn’t live here anymore,” I manage, my voice steadier now even though my hands are trembling. “He moved in with his girlfriend. I’m subletting this place.”

Something flickers across his face. Surprise, then frustration, then what might be embarrassment. He runs a hand through his hair, and I notice the alarming amount of grease on his thick forearms. He’s covered in it, actually. His jeans are stained, there’s a smudge on his jaw, and he smells like—

I scrunch my nose. Focus, Peyton. There’s a strange man in your bathroom and you’re naked.

“He didn’t tell you,” the stranger, Jake, says.

“Tell me what?”

“That I stay here sometimes. Between long charter runs to restock and visit. I’ve got a key.” He holds it up like that makes this okay. Like having a key excuses walking in on someone in the bathroom.

“Well, he didn’t tell me.“ If he had, I would’ve never taken the place. I lunge for my phone on the counter, nearly dropping my towel in the process. Jake’s gaze snaps to the ceiling so fast I’d laugh if I wasn’t terrified. “And I’m calling him right now to—”

A door slams in the hallway.

“What’s going on?” A male voice, urgent and familiar, shouts from outside the apartment door. Luke.

Thank god.

“In here,” I yell, not taking my eyes off the intruder. “There’s a man in my apartment!”

Multiple sets of footsteps pound through the hallway and into my apartment. The bathroom doorway suddenly flooding with people—Luke in pajama pants and nothing else, a petite blonde woman in an oversized T-shirt tucked under his arm, both are wide-eyed and disheveled.

“Jake?” Luke’s face goes from alarm to confusion in the span of two seconds.

“LUKE!” Jake and I shout at the same time.

“Do you know him?” I demand, clutching my towel like a lifeline.

“He’s my brother,” Luke says, then winces. “Shit. I forgot he might—”

“Might what?” My voice goes shrill. “Might walk in while I’m in the shower? Might use his key to break into the apartment I’m paying to live in?”

“I’m not breaking in,” Jake protests. “I’ve been staying here for two years whenever I’m in port. How was I supposed to know Luke rented out my place?”

“Your place?” I’m nearly vibrating with anger now, fear giving way to fury. “This is my apartment. I have a lease!”

“A sublease,” Luke corrects, and I want to throw something at him.

“Okay, everyone just calm down.” The blonde woman—Molly, I remember now from when I signed the papers—steps forward with her hands up like she’s negotiating a hostage situation. Which, given that I’m trapped in a bathroom in a towel with three people staring at me, isn’t that far off. “Peyton, this is Jake, Luke’s brother. Jake, this is Peyton. She’s subletting for the summer. There’s obviously been a miscommunication.”

“You think?” I snap, then immediately feel bad. None of this is her fault. “I’m sorry. I just… Can everyone please get out so I can get dressed?”

They scatter quickly. Jake disappears first, Luke and Molly right behind him, until I’m finally alone.

The first thing I do is lock the door.

My hands are still shaking as I drop the towel and grab my robe from the hook on the back of the door. My heart’s racing as I catch my reflection in the mirror—flushed cheeks, makeup smeared eyes, hair plastered to my head.

Deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

The meditation app I downloaded after Mom died would be proud.

Except I’m pretty sure ‘stranger walks in on you naked’ isn’t a scenario they covered in the mindfulness series.