Merlina's POV
It was finally Friday, and after a week that felt like midterms and finals teamed up to ruin my life, I was beyond ready for a break.
One class.
Just one measly class at noon, and I was free to shift into party mode.
Belview's weekend weren't exactly exciting or wild, but we'd been invited to some off-campus birthday party, and honestly? I needed it.
Conor Lesnar, the guy said to be responsible for my mother's death was still conveniently out of town, supposedly on academic probation or some fake family emergency. Whatever.
For once, I wasn't going to spend my Friday night knee-deep in old files and dead-end leads. I was gonna have fun.
Just for tonight.
Phoebe, Megan, and I were walking across campus, the sun sitting low and bright, the way it always got before the real weekend heat kicked in. We had our iced coffees in hand and not a single ounce of shame for skipping the optional discussion section after class.
"Tell me why Professor Lin made us argue both sides of the debate and then still gave participation points like she was handing out pity stickers," Megan muttered, pulling her sunglasses down as we passed a group of freshmen blasting music from a car parked in the curb.
"Because Lin is chaos personified," I said. "She lives for the emotional damage."
Phoebe sipped her coffee, grinning. "Well, chaos or not, I still managed to sneak in the 'capitalism is a scam' line without her flinching."
"You're insufferable," Megan rolled her eyes. "But I love you."
I laughed, letting the sound roll out of me like a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. For the first time in days, it felt like I could finally breathe, like the universe decided to hit pause on the drama.
It was the kind of moment I used to live for, before everything got tangled up in tragedy and secrets.
I hadn't spoken to Craig since he cornered me in the quad, acting like some morally confused mob boss trying to scare me off with veiled threats and tuition bribes.
His silence since then felt like a rubber band pulled too tight in my chest, uncomfortably tense, just waiting to snap. But still, I kept telling myself I didn't care. That I was better off without hearing from him. That it was better we kept our distance.
But the truth was, I felt like I was caught in limbo, waiting for something I wasn't sure I even wanted to happen.
Deep down, I was craving another conversation with Craig, hoping he'd prove me wrong. A small part of me still wanted Craig to show me he wasn't the person Louis described.
Maybe I was hoping he could break through the tough exterior, reveal a little more of himself, and prove that he wasn't all bad. A part of me still wanted that.
We were halfway to the student lot when a voice cut through the breeze.
"Phoebe."
We turned.
Standing a few feet away was a girl giving off major 'mean girl in rehab' vibes. Long hair, overly shiny lip gloss, and a smile that looked a little too forced. Beside her, a shorter brunette chewed gum like it was her full-time job.
"Um, hey?" Phoebe asked, eyebrows raised.
"I'm Naomi," the girl said, her tone almost daring Phoebe to recognize her. "Does that ring a bell?"
Naomi.
Phoebe had mentioned her as Keith's most recent ex.
"Oh," Phoebe said, clearly unimpressed. "Okay?"
Naomi crossed her arms, her voice dripping with sweetness but coated in just the right amount of venom. "It's kind of funny, isn't it? You all over Keith, when he's clearly not over me."
I blinked, processing what was happening.
Was this for real?
She leaned in, the smile never quite reaching her eyes. "Let me make this crystal clear. Stay…away…from Keith."
Phoebe didn't even have a response, frozen in that moment, clearly caught off guard.
Megan, always the quick-witted one, snorted loudly. "Okay, seriously, is this high school?"
Naomi didn't skip a beat. "I'm just saying, some girls need to remember their place."
She shot Phoebe a look that practically dared her to speak up. "Keith's still figuring things out, and you?" She gave Phoebe the once-over, her eyes scanning her from head to toe. "You're just a phase."
Phoebe didn't flinch. She tossed her cup into the trash without breaking eye contact, her voice cool but cutting. "Oh, honey. If I'm a phase, I'm the kind that'll make him second-guess his entire life."
Naomi let out a sharp laugh, clearly unimpressed. "Oh, really?"
Phoebe's smirk didn't waver. "Yeah, it's wild how some people can't seem to let go of the past. Maybe it's time you move on… instead of clinging to someone who's already outgrown you."
Naomi's smile faltered, she looked like she was about to throw a fit, but her friend nudged her, muttering something under her breath, and the two of them stormed off like we'd just burned their group chat to the ground.
As soon as Naomi and her sidekick stormed off, Megan burst out laughing. "What was that? A threat or an audition for Real Housewives of Belview?"
Phoebe tossed her hair like she was on a reality show. "If Keith's exes are gonna come at me with all that drama, I at least deserve theme music and a slow-mo walk-in. Like, make it a whole production."
I snorted. "Wait, are we in a teen drama reboot? Who still does the whole 'stay away from my man' speech? I was two seconds away from checking if we'd time-traveled to junior prom."
We were still cracking up when a voice cut through the chaos—low, smooth, and way too familiar.
"What's so funny?"
We froze.
Keith stood there, looking confused but intrigued, definitely unaware his ex had just tried to mark her territory. But beside him, leaning slightly back with his hands in his pockets, was Craig.
His eyes landed on me immediately.
Not a scan. Not a glance.
A full, slow stare, like he was sizing me up for something. Like nothing had changed, but everything had.
Without a word, he tilted his head slightly, just enough to make it feel like he was speaking directly to me. Not quite a nod, not quite a dare, just that maddening in-between that said, 'Yeah, I see you.'
Like we both knew this wasn't over.
My stomach twisted. My breath caught, sharp and sudden.
Because that wasn't the look of a guy who regretted what he said.
It was the look of someone waiting for my next move, my next word—like I was the one holding the match to his fuse.