"Remind me never to hang out with you again," Craig muttered, half-teasing, half-annoyed.
Keith chuckled, unbothered. His eyes scanned the room, already hunting. "Relax, it's just girls. Try not to be so dramatic."
Before Craig could respond, a waitress approached. Her steps were shy, her voice even softer.
"She wants you to come over. She's not leaving her friends."
Keith's grin stretched. "Tell her to bring the whole crew. This table's VIP."
She nodded and hurried off. Craig watched her go, but his mind had already moved on.
"Which one is it?" he asked, casual on the surface.
Keith nodded toward the redhead across the room, almost dazed. "That one. Fire."
Craig followed his gaze. Phoebe.
Not Merlina.
A quiet breath left him. He hadn't realized he was holding it. The tension in his shoulders eased—but only for a second. He leaned back, hiding whatever that was behind the usual indifference.
"She's something, huh?" Keith asked, still admiring.
"Ah." That was all Craig said. But something in it sounded heavier than it should have.
Keith didn't notice. "She's got that spark, man."
Craig didn't respond. His eyes drifted anywhere but the girls' table. He scrolled through his phone, pretending not to care.
Then the girls walked over.
Keith stood immediately, grinning like he'd won something. "Well, look who decided to show up. Sorry you to drag you all the way here, but I figured our table's more….exclusive."
Phoebe rolled her eyes. Merlina stepped forward, quiet but not timid. She didn't shrink—there was just tension beneath her calm.
Her eyes met Craig's for the briefest second.
That look—too fast to define, but enough to pull something tight in Craig's chest.
Keith gestured to the seats. "Make yourselves comfortable."
Phoebe crossed her arms. "I only came to ask why you're too high and mighty to talk to a girl yourself."
Keith didn't miss a beat. "Outsourcing is efficient. It's called charm delegation."
"In what decade?" she muttered.
He laughed, unbothered, then glanced at Merlina—and lingered just a moment too long.
Craig noticed. His jaw tensed.
"Haven't seen you around," Keith said. "Freshers?"
Before Merlina could answer, Phoebe cut in. "Weird, since your friend over here already met us. And was rude about it."
Craig took a slow sip of his drink, poker-faced. He wasn't sure if she meant him, but judging by her tone, probably.
Keith turned to him. "You know them?"
Craig shrugged. "Can't recall."
Phoebe laughed, dry and sharp. "Is he serious?" Looking over at Merlina and Megan, expecting a back up. But they
didn't react.
Craig stared into his drink like it might rescue him.
"Well," he said finally, voice flat, "now that I think about it, maybe I've seen them around."
"Now that you think about it?" Phoebe echoed with a smirk. "Do faces just blur together when you're that full of yourself?"
His smile was razor-thin. "Only the irrelevant ones. You know—the kind that talk a lot, say nothing."
Phoebe leaned back, feigning shock. "Wow. Charming."
Before things could spiral, Keith slid in, hands raised.
"Okay, okay, let's save the fight for the afterparty. Names?"
Phoebe scoffed. "Phoebe."
Merlina offered a small smile. "Merlina."
"Megan," came the calm, regal reply.
Keith grinned. "Keith Jacobs. And that's Craig Lesnar. But you probably knew that already."
Craig's eyes met Merlina's again. A glance—quick, electric. But this time, she didn't look away so fast.
Phoebe missed the tension, muttering under her breath to Keith, "Hope you two don't have too much in common."
Keith laughed. "Be nice, Phoebe."
The mood eased. Laughter picked up. Drinks clinked. For a while, things felt almost normal.
Then Merlina turned toward Craig. She fiddled with her glass, fingers tracing the rim.
"Hey, Craig." Her voice was soft. "About your handbook… I got you a replacement. I'll bring it to you at school. That okay?"
Craig blinked.
Something in his chest shifted.
She wasn't flirting. Wasn't posturing. Just… talking.
No one ever just talked to him. Not like this.
Most people treated him like a shortcut. They wanted his last name, not his opinion. They played polite until they could ask about internships, hedge fund dinners, or his father's next big move. The conversations were rehearsed—polished to a shine, but empty.
Even the girls who tried to stand out—the ones who thought being rude would make them seem above it all—they were still playing the game.
But not Merlina.
She wasn't trying to win him over.
She just remembered the damn handbook.
It was disarming.
"You didn't have to do that," he said finally, the words coming out quieter than he expected.
"I wanted to," she said. Simple. No smile, no motive. Just honesty.
Craig looked at her.
And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like someone was trying to get something out of him.
He blinked, a faint crease appearing between his brows as he tried to make sense of his deep thoughts about her.
Merlina was still watching him, calm and expectant.
Thinking of a response, his lips parted as if to say something…