Falling for my Enemy's Brother-Chapter 68: Behind Closed Doors

The low murmur of the movie still played in the background, but the real noise was in her head.

Merlina just stood there, stunned, like her brain hadn’t caught up to her eyes.

She blinked twice, almost hoping Phoebe or Megan would appear behind him, maybe even Keith, something, anything to make sense of this. But there was only Craig, standing like a flame too close to her fragile calm.

"Wh...what are you...uh. Did something happen?" she stammered, voice betraying the calm she desperately tried to summon.

Craig raised an eyebrow slowly, eyes fixed on her, like a storm watching a windowpane—waiting to see if it would break.

"No," he said, voice low, calm. Hearing his voice anchored the moment in reality, confirming he was really standing there and this wasn’t some dream her mind had conjured up. "Everything’s perfect," he added

Perfect?

Her brows drew together. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

He looked her up and down—tee, shorts, hair in a messy bun. No gloss, no liner. Just tired eyes. She suddenly felt too exposed, caught in a version of herself she didn’t mean to show him.

"So... what are you doing here?" she asked, arms folding around herself before she even realized it. Then she turned her back to him and walked deeper into the room, leaving the door open behind her.

The air between them felt too close, too tight. She caught the faint scent of his shampoo, minty, woodsy, and unmistakably his. The same one she’d smelled when he leaned over her at El Capitan, whispering something that made her feel like her heart was learning how to beat again. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

She couldn’t afford to be that close to him. Not tonight. Not ever.

"I guess I just wanted to speak with you," Craig said. His voice followed her in. Deep. Familiar. Unwelcome but undeniably magnetic.

Craig stepped fully inside, then closed the door behind him with a soft click—more like the sound of a lock snapping shut.

The room felt immediately smaller, walls pressing in. Her breath became even more unsteady, not just from the silence, but the weight of being trapped with him.

"Did someone see you come in here?" she asked, not turning around. Her gaze drifted to the mirror across the room, catching his cool, carved-out-of-trouble posture reflecting there—casually leaning against the closed door, calm and unbothered.

"No," he said, smooth. "I’m pretty sure they’re all a little busy at my party."

She gave a dry chuckle, more to herself than him. "And you, aren’t you supposed to be there, at your party?"

Craig didn’t miss a beat. "Aren’t you supposed to be stuck up with Louis or something?"

Her head snapped toward him. "Louis...is out of town." Then her eyes narrowed. "You came here to talk about that?"

He scoffed, arms folding across his chest. That stupid half-smirk she knew too well tugged at the corner of his lips.

’What the hell are you doing in my room?!’

Everything inside her wanted to scream out loud, the pounding in her chest wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Craig was cool, unfazed, unbothered and she also needed to put up a front too, like she wasn’t about to run into the wall or something.

"Did Phoebe ask you to stop by and bring her anything?" she blurted, her questions stacking on top of each other. Her nerves were starting to fray. Maybe if she kept talking, if she kept asking dumb questions, she could outrun the feeling that he was getting to her, without even trying.

Because he wasn’t doing anything, just looking at her, yet somehow it felt like too much. Like she was the only one losing it.

"I said," he repeated, firmer this time, "I came here for you." A loaded pause stretched between them.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" His voice was level, but every word carried the weight of a challenge.

Her heart sank, a flutter of guilt rising before she could hide it. She turned away, crossing the room to her study table like she had something urgent to do there. Fingers fumbled with a few textbooks—ones that had been perfectly fine sitting untouched just seconds ago.

"I haven’t," she said, not quite looking at him. "Busy week."

He let out a slow, deliberate "Hmmm," unconvinced. His gaze sharpened, cutting through her. "Busy avoiding me?"

Her eyes darted away. The truth hovered on her tongue but didn’t fall out. She’d been dodging this moment, never expecting today would be the day it caught up with her.

"What happened at El Capitan?" His voice dropped, heavy with fierce intent, leaving no room for anything else, demanding the truth.

"Are you asking...me?" she stammered, biting back a sigh. "I don’t...I don’t know," she said, voice uneven, like she was fighting back the urge to snap.

"Don’t give me that vague line." he said quickly, cutting through the air between them. "Don’t do that."

His words sliced through the haze in her mind. Her jaw tightened. She turned to face him.

"I was...I was having a low moment. A vulnerable one. I wasn’t myself." She hated how shaky her voice sounded, how small. She didn’t dare look at him—didn’t want to see what was waiting in his eyes.

Craig stared at her for a second. Then another. As if waiting for her to say more, until he realized she wasn’t.

His jaw tensed, but his voice came out flat, laced with dry sarcasm. "So...you go around kissing guys when you have bad days?"

Merlina let out an exhausted breath, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the whole conversation was heavier than she could bear.

She looked at him, tired...almost like she had already run out of ways to defend herself. "You asked me to explain," she said quietly, then added, sharper this time, "and I did."

"Well your explanation sucks," he snapped.

That did it.

Her composure cracked, frustration rising like a wave. She took a step forward, eyes lit with disbelief.

"What were you thinking, Craig? Honestly." Her voice was sharp now, edged with disbelief. "That I’d just forget? That I’d pretend you’re not Conor’s brother? You think it’s that simple?"

She was done being calm.

This was supposed to go without saying, that the kiss was a mistake, something reckless and fleeting, something that never should’ve happened in the first place. And yet, here he was, standing in front of her like it was okay for it to mean more. Like it wasn’t a line they should never have crossed.

He paused, drawing in a breath that trembled slightly in his chest. "Do you have siblings?"

She blinked, caught off guard by the shift. "I do."

He nodded once, his gaze dropping briefly, like the words he was about to say needed to be chosen carefully.

"Okay, hypothetically...let’s say one of your siblings is being accused of something horrible. And the world starts looking at you like you did it. Like you’re just a by-product of their mistakes. How’d you feel?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"What’s that got to do with this?" she asked finally.

"Because that’s been my life, Merlina," he said, voice rising. "Living as Conor’s side effect. Through adolescence, high school, college—and out of everyone, do you know who’s done the best job of keeping that version of me alive?"

He stepped closer.

"It’s been you."

Those words stopped her cold.

She hadn’t expected it. Not right now. Not like this. For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just looked at him—his face, his eyes—and saw something she hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe something she hadn’t let herself notice.

And it made her feel...off. A small twinge in her chest. Not enough to crumble her, but enough to make her wish she could take back the last thing she said.

She hadn’t meant to be cruel with her words. But now, standing here, she realized she might’ve been.

Just a little.

"I thought you saw me," he said, his voice thinning just slightly, like he was holding back more than he wanted to. "Really, I did. But maybe I was wrong."

Her throat tightened. She wanted to reach out, to say whatever came to mind, but she didn’t trust herself.

She bit her lip, chest tightening with a sharp ache. Her eyes burned, she clenched her jaw, forcing herself not to give in.

"I guess you were" Her voice wavered, barely steady. Her gaze dropped to the floor, but Craig caught the flash of something breaking beneath her calm.

A thick, suffocating silence settled between them, filled with frustration and the ache of unspoken truths.

She swallowed hard, then forced an exhale, forcing her eyes everywhere but on him. "I—I think you should get back to your party," she stammered. "You shouldn’t be here. You have your guests waiting."

"I don’t give a damn about them," he snapped.

Her head lifted, eyes locking onto his with a glint of surprise alongside a quiet curiosity she fought to keep hidden.

He breathed in sharply, like holding back everything he wanted to say was suddenly impossible.

"Because I could throw the loudest party this school’s ever seen," Craig said, stepping closer, his voice tight with feeling. "Invite half the country, hang chandeliers from Versailles, light the sky with fireworks spelling my name..."

His gaze held hers—not demanding, but searching, desperate for a fragment of understanding as he closed the gap between them.

"And it still wouldn’t drown you out of my head."

Merlina felt her heart pounding fiercely in her chest, her lashes dampening as a tremble curled in her chest, the raw honesty of his voice breaking down what’s left of the walls she’d be hiding behind.

"Craig, please don’t..."

She backed away slightly, one hand brushing the edge of her desk like she needed to hold onto something solid.

"Don’t start something we’d regret." Her voice came out low, careful, like she was trying not to cross a line she wouldn’t be able to uncross.

Craig’s gaze didn’t falter.

"Why would we regret it?" he asked, and it wasn’t just a question—it was a dare, a plea, and something dangerously close to hope.

The question hit her like a whisper to the ribs, too soft to brace for, too real to ignore. Her eyes flicked up to his, startled by how open he looked—vulnerable, waiting, wanting.

"Merlina..."