Falling for my Enemy's Brother-Chapter 62: Stuck

Merlina and Craig ducked into the tent, the canvas flap rustling shut behind them. Inside, the air was thick with leftover sun, fabric warmth, and someone’s vanilla lotion.

Three students, two girls and a guy, were already sprawled on their camp mattresses when Merlina slipped in, Craig right behind her.

The room shifted the moment he entered.

One girl blinked, nudging her friend.

"Is that—?" she whispered.

The other sat up fast, smoothing her hair.

Craig Lesnar. Here. In their tent.

He barely acknowledged them. Just a quiet "Hey"—flat, expressionless. His focus didn’t waver from Merlina, like no one else existed.

But Merlina couldn’t help but feel small and invisible, like she was just his backdrop.

When they rolled out their duvets, he placed his right beside hers, like it was the obvious choice. The only person he knew here. Yet even sitting shoulder to shoulder, as they arranged their sleeping spot, the silence felt anything but easy.

She kept her eyes down, but every cell in her body buzzed with awareness. The heat. His nearness. His stare. It never left her.

The others tried chatting, but Craig shut it down with his silence. Eventually, they gave up, tension fading into exhaustion. Merlina didn’t mind.

She needed the quiet.

She turned onto her side, determined to sleep or at least pretend to. That was the only way to get through the night.

Craig seemed to share the same plan, because the moment he settled onto his mattress, his eyes closed without hesitation.

She lay still, eyes squeezed shut, willing sleep to come. But it slipped further away. The more she tried, the more restless she became. Her body stiffened, her mind tightened. Every small movement reminded her of him, the soft rhythm of his breath, the subtle shift of his mattress.

Frustration gnawed at her as she twisted quietly, away from him. She couldn’t face him, not with her skin prickling at the thought of him just a breath away.

Every attempt to lie still failed. Her fingers twitched, thighs tensed, a restless sigh slipped from her lips. The soft rustle of fabric as she adjusted felt embarrassingly loud in the tent’s hush.

He must have noticed.

"Can’t sleep?" His voice was low and intimate, meant only for her.

She froze.

Then gave a small shake of her head, only to realize a second later that he probably didn’t even see it. Her cheeks flushed, heat rising in a wave of embarrassment. God.

She needed to say something. Anything.

"You?" she whispered back, her voice barely above a breath. It came out warmer than she expected. Needier.

He didn’t answer right away, and that silence was somehow louder than everything else. She could hear his shift, feel the way the mattress gave ever so slightly. Every movement from him pulled at her like gravity.

She kept her back to him, but every part of her was leaning in.

"Can’t," he murmured. "Never been in a tent before."

"Oh," she said softly, but it didn’t surprise her. He never struck her as someone who enjoyed social things. He was cold and anti-social. That narcissistic jerk who had been ghosting her all week, at least, that’s what she tried to remind herself.

But in that moment, none of it seemed to matter.

She still wanted to talk. To close the space between them, even if it meant risking silence or saying something stupid.

"So, uh... are you still mad at me?" she asked, her voice barely more than a breath.

"Mad?" Craig’s voice was low, quiet. "Was I?"

She hesitated, then turned, slowly and carefully, but her elbow brushed his, the contact sending a rush of heat through her body.

Their eyes locked.

And everything stilled.

The tent, the night, the distance between them, it all collapsed in that moment. His eyes were a restless sea, swirling with emotions too fierce to name, drawing her closer despite her hesitations.

"You’ve barely said a word to me since we got here," she said, softer now. "Barely said a word all week."

The words slipped out. She immediately regretted them, too revealing, too real. Counting days meant he mattered that much.

"You’re the one who said we can’t be friends," Craig said quietly, his eyes not leaving hers.

Merlina blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his tone. It was low and intense, almost accusing.

"You’re the one who said I had to break up with my boyfriend," she shot back, voice soft but sharp, as if the words had been sitting at the edge of her tongue, waiting.

He offered a half-smile, one that barely touched his eyes, guarded and distant. "Yeah. Besides... we barely talk."

"Because all you ever want to ask about is Conor," she muttered.

He met her gaze steadily. "Because that’s all you ever think about. All you ever say."

A heavy silence settled over them, thick and unspoken.

Merlina pressed her palm to the thin mattress, grounding herself. "Okay," she whispered, voice smaller than she intended. "I don’t wanna talk about that."

"Fine. Goodnight." His voice clipped as he turned onto his side, shutting himself away like a fortress.

But Merlina knew him too well now. His retreat didn’t sting like before. She saw it for what it was, not distance or dismissal, but a shield. A defense. His way of bracing for a blow that hadn’t come.

And Beneath that cold edge, something raw and vulnerable throbbed. He wasn’t shutting her out, he was terrified of the moment hanging between them, afraid one wrong word would push her away. He was hoping that keeping his mouth shut would somehow save him tonight.

Still, the tension was unbearable. The air pulsed between them. Her warmth inches away, her scent threading through the space like something he could reach.

He knew couldn’t stay away. Not tonight.

"Why’d you call your dad stupid?" Craig asked suddenly, his voice low, rough around the edges, like it scratched its way out of his chest.

She blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected him to speak again, especially not with that question.

"What?" she asked, her voice softer now. She thought back to her earlier call with Melissa. "You heard that?"

"Been to Spain a couple of times. Estupido was actually one of the first words I picked up," Craig said with a faint smirk.

She gave a small, knowing smile as she slowly rolled onto her back. "Not surprised."

Craig turned as well, shifting onto his back, their shoulders almost aligned on the narrow camping mattress. "Why not?"

"It just... seems like you."

He raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways. "What do you even know about me? Asides that I’m arrogant and impulsive, apparently."

Their eyes locked. The tent felt smaller, warmer, charged. Her expression softened, the playfulness melting into something real. "About that... I’m sorry—"

"It’s fine," he said almost too quickly. "Forget it."

In that moment, the moonlight spilled through the tent, soft and silver, sketching him in delicate light. It lingered on his jaw, traced the bridge of his nose, caught in the dark sweep of his lashes. Like the night itself was in awe.

Something twisted in her chest, sharp and sweet. Like getting caught staring and realizing she didn’t want to stop. She drew a breath too fast, and she hoped to God he didn’t hear it.

She turned her gaze away, pulse skipping. The silence no longer awkward, it burned against their skin, fierce and urgent.

Then he looked at her, fully. No smirk. No wall. Just him.

And her heart betrayed her.

Her mind grasped for words, light whispers to steady the storm inside, to hold onto something real before she was swept away completely.

"Where—"

"Do you—"

They spoke at the same time, and instead of shattering the moment, it deepened it. Her eyes widened, a nervous laugh escaping her lips as she brought a hand up to scratch the side of her head.

Craig chuckled softly, rubbing his palm along his jaw. Then he gave a slow, gentle nod, quiet but clear, letting her know he wanted her to go first.

She bit her lip, eyes flickering to his before she spoke. "I was gonna say...where’s the best place you’ve ever been?"

He looked at her for a moment, then smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t just stay on his lips but reached his eyes, softening his entire face. "Um... don’t laugh."

Her brows lifted, curious.

He exhaled. "There’s this lake... just outside Montreux, in Switzerland. Not the touristy spots. It’s this quiet, hidden place. Snowy in the distance, but the water’s still and crazy clear. I went there once when I was seventeen. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since."

She didn’t laugh. Instead, her expression shifted, gentle and unguarded. "Sounds beautiful."

Craig looked at her again, slower this time, as if memorizing every curve of her face. "It was."

Suddenly, they were no longer just two people on a camping mattress. They were something fragile and fierce—something neither of them could ignore.

"For someone who travels a lot, I’m surprised you’ve never been camping," she said softly, her voice light with curiosity, a quiet attempt to ease the tension between them.

He grew quiet, eyes lost to the tent ceiling. "I was a sucker for horror movies as a kid. So sleeping in a tent in the dark, in the middle of nowhere ? My imagination ran wild."

She smiled, a quiet, teasing warmth in her tone. "So that’s what’s keeping you up tonight?"

"Kind of." He glanced toward the tent wall. "Even right now, I feel like someone’s just gonna slice it open with a knife."

"Craig..." she warned, laughing nervously.

They both laughed, soft and breathless. The sound curled into the corners of the tent, light and fleeting, like it didn’t want to leave.

Somewhere in their shared laughter, a gentle spark unlocked—a peaceful, tender feeling that quietly linked their hearts. Merlina leaned back slightly, her leg brushing against his. She froze, but he didn’t pull away. Their knees remained touching, silent yet charged with an intense rush of heat.

A smoldering warmth gathered in between her thighs, delicate yet demanding, stirring a deep ache with every breath.

Their eyes locked again. A pattern that had been happening more than either of them admitted.

And for the first time in days, they really looked at each other. Not just passing glances. Not stolen moments. This was something else.

The kind of look that burned through her chest and stole her voice completely. She wasn’t sure who breathed deeper first, her or him ? The night air, once cool and calm, now felt warm with longing, like something invisible passing between them, quietly setting their hearts on fire.

She tucked a loose strand behind her ear, fingers trembling. He caught the motion, tilted his head on his pillow and leaned in closer, his eyes tracing every inch, her fingers, her hair, the curve of her jaw.

Then her eyes dropped to his mouth—just for a second. When she looked back up, he was watching hers too. She thought she saw his chest rise and fall, just a little quicker than before.

Her heart thudded loud enough she was sure the other three in the tent could hear. Then suddenly, he looked away.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered, suddenly alert.

She laughed, eyes crinkling. "Stop trying to scare me..."

Her hand lifted, half-reaching toward him like she was about to playfully swat his arm, but never quite made it. Before she could pull it back, Craig caught it.

"No, I’m serious," he murmured. He didn’t just hold her hand, he laced his fingers through hers, then gently squeezed, grounding her with that one small gesture.

Her laughter faded. Her skin tingled where he touched her.

"I heard someone call my name," he whispered, looking at her like the stars could fall and he’d still only notice her.