Falling for my Enemy's Brother
Chapter 65: The Aftertaste of Fire

Chapter 65: The Aftertaste of Fire

Adriana’s words hung in the air, ’You smell like my boyfriend.’

That sentence pulled Merlina backward, back to that moment, still fresh, when Craig’s lips had been on hers...

She froze. Blood thundered in her ears. Her knees gave way beneath her. Her mind scrambled, wild and spinning, like a storm tearing through everything.

Adriana tilted her head, laughing. As if it were a joke. As if she hadn’t just ripped the ground from under Merlina’s feet.

"I know...maybe I’m just remembering him," she said with a soft chuckle, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "maybe it’s just wishful thinking."

Merlina’s lips parted, but nothing came out.

Just air. Just panic.

She forced a weak nod. "Uh-huh."

Adriana hummed. "Wonder where he is." She stretched like a cat on the mattress, then stood. "I should go find him. See you later, Merlina." She tapped her shoulder.

And just like that, she slipped out of the tent.

Merlina didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe until the zipper slid shut behind Adriana and her footsteps faded into the night.

Then—

She dropped her bag, stripped off her black V-neck top, like it was burning. Like it was soaked in sin, like it was him.

She yanked another one from her duffel, and shoved her arms into it, her fingers trembling so hard they missed the sleeve twice.

Only then—when it was off, when she was in something else, something clean, something not Craig Lesnar— did she raise her hand to her mouth.

Her whole body shuddered.

A sharp, stuttering breath broke from her lungs, and then she cried. Not delicately. Not with dignity.

Her knees buckled.

She sat on the floor of the tent, palm still over her lips like she could trap the memory there. Like she could rewind and erase it. Like she hadn’t just drowned in someone else’s mouth.

She kissed him.

She kissed Craig Lesnar, Conor’s brother.

The guy with the eyes that held too much. The guy she should’ve hated, yet it was the guy she burned for. She gave into him with a hunger she couldn’t explain. Wanted to lose herself—and she did. In his arms. In his touch. In the heat of his breath.

The sharp sting of salt from tears burning her eyes made her blink harder, though the sobs wouldn’t stop. Her head hit her knees as she rocked forward, gasping for air. It was too much. It was all hitting her now.

Louis. Megan. Adriana.

These weren’t just names.

They were hearts. People who trusted her. People who didn’t deserve what she’d done.

And she? She was selfish.

She let herself melt into his touch, into his mouth, like it was the only truth she knew. She didn’t stop it. Didn’t even want to.

She needed more.

More of his hands.

More of his mouth.

More of the heat that burned away every rational thought.

And now, she felt filthy. Not because of what they had done. But because of how much she liked it. Because of much she wish that moment never stopped.

Even if it meant ruining everything. Even if it meant becoming someone she couldn’t recognize anymore.

She had told herself she was better than this, stronger than this. She’d always believed loyalty was sacred. That some lines weren’t meant to be crossed. But now, she’d shattered her own code, right there, in that moment under the stars, Craig had touched her like he knew her. And she had let him.

No.

She had wanted it.

And that made her stomach turn. It wasn’t just betrayal. It was a fracture in who she thought she was. And that was the hardest pain of all.

What kind of person kisses her boyfriend’s enemy? What kind of girl buries secrets under her skin and still smiles through them?

The weight of it crushed her. The tears spilled freely, uncontrolled. And then, the silence was broken by the soft slide of the tent zipper.

"Merlina?" Phoebe’s hesitant voice floated in, cutting through the heavy stillness. Her silhouette filled the doorway, eyes wide, lips parted in apology. "Hey... I wanted to say I’m sorry. About earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped. I just—"

But Merlina didn’t look up.

She couldn’t.She was curled into herself, crying harder now, trying to be quiet about it, but failing.

Phoebe’s brows furrowed. She stepped inside. "Oh my God," she whispered, kneeling beside her. "Are you crying?"

Merlina tried to shake her head, she failed. Phoebe’s arms wrapped around her.

"Oh my gosh, I didn’t mean to make you feel like this," she whispered, voice cracking. "I’m such an idiot. You were right. I was being controlling. I just—I miss you, okay?"

Her voice wobbled, and her own tears started to fall. "You’re my best friend Merlina, you and Megan mean so much to me. And I hate this distance between us. I hate that you’re crying. Please don’t cry."

Merlina folded into her arms, sobbing quietly. But not for the reasons Phoebe thought. Not because of their fight or their friendship.

Because of everything else.

Because she had kissed Craig. Because she still felt him in her bones, because her chest was cracking under the weight of betrayal and she had no idea how to fix it.

So she let Phoebe hold her, whispering apologies she didn’t deserve. And Merlina just nodded, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down her face, thinking only one thing—she didn’t know who she was anymore.

Merlina didn’t go back to Phoebe’s tent. Or Craig’s. Or Louis’s. She couldn’t lie beside Phoebe pretending everything was normal. Couldn’t sit in the same space as Craig, couldn’t look Louis in the eyes without crumbling. So she slipped quietly into Maya and Jay’s tent, curling into the far corner, pretending to be asleep before either of them could ask why she was really there.

And still, she didn’t sleep, not even for a minute.

Not just because she was overwhelmed. Not because of the guilt.

But the truth was worse, she was still replaying it. Every second of it...the way it ended, sharp and sudden, leaving him behind that pine tree like he was her dirty secret. She hated how unfinished it felt.

Wondered how he was feeling, or if he even regretted it. What he was doing right now, if he was thinking about her too.

She tossed. She turned.

Still wanting him.

Still burning.

And that’s when she knew, this wasn’t a crush.

It was a fire she couldn’t put out.

It was danger.

And she had to stop it. She would stop it. Whatever it took.

Her phone buzzed against her pillow. She reached for it without wanting to—until she saw his name.

Craig: Are you okay?

She got her confirmation. He was thinking about her too. A sharp breath slipped out of her chest. She stared at the message, heart pounding, vision slightly blurred. Frustration slipped in, she tapped the screen lightly against her forehead. Once. Twice. Harder.

"Why are you doing this to me?" She whispered under her breath, still staring at his name on her phone.

But she didn’t reply.

She wanted to, but she knew if she did, this madness would start again. If she replied, it meant she was liked what they had just done. And she did.

That was the problem.

The next morning, the group had one last meal before heading back to Belford. It was a buffet-style breakfast out under the trees, mismatched folding tables set with paper cups and mini cartons of juice. Everyone looked tired, sun-drunk, slightly burnt out.

But not Craig.

Craig looked... edgy.

Restless.

He kept checking his phone under the table. No response. Nothing.

No ’I’m okay.’ No ’last night was a mistake.’ No ’I hate you’ or ’I want you.’

Nothing from Merlina. And he didn’t know what the silence meant. He kept scanning the tables, the tents, the crowd.

Where the hell was she?

"Yo," Keith said around a mouthful of pancake, nodding toward a bench near the trees, "so apparently Merlina and Phoebe made up."

Craig barely blinked. "Cool."

He didn’t care. Not about that. That wasn’t the news he needed.

Keith smirked like he was trying to be funny, but then softened. "Phoebe told me she found her crying in the tent last night." He shook his head, "Girl drama."

Craig’s head snapped toward him. "What? When ?"

Keith shrugged. "Last night after she stormed off the Bonfire. Before lights out, Phoebe found her crying her eyes out. I guess the fight got to her or something."

Craig went still.

Crying?

But... that was after they kissed.

That was after she kissed him back, held him close, made him believe—for one second—that there was something real between them.

And she cried?

Was it regret?

Was it really about Phoebe?

Or was it because of him?

His grip on the plastic fork tightened until it snapped in his hand.

"I’ve gotta talk to her," he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Keith asked. His brows puzzled, like he didn’t hear correctly. Only then had Craig realized he said that out loud.

"Nothing." Craig pushed away from the table, rising without a word, eyes searching the crowd like she might appear if he wanted it badly enough.

But she didn’t.

As he walked off, heart pounding with questions and panic and something dangerously close to hope, one thing was certain.

This wasn’t over.

And then he saw her. Standing beside the Charter Bus warming up by the curb, the one that would take them all back to the airport. A coffee cup dangled from her hand, barely sipped. Her eyes were distant, fixed somewhere beyond the shoreline, like she was already gone.

She looked like she’d be the first to jump in the bus the second the doors opened. Like she couldn’t wait to leave it all behind. The beach, the memories, him.

And then she turned.

Their eyes met.

He moved toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Merlina," he said gently, like her name was something he wasn’t ready to let go of. "we need to talk."