Merlina's POV
There he was, Louis O'Connor, standing in the doorway with his hand still hovering mid-air, like he was about to knock but decided against it.
I froze. "Louis." Looking around him, "What are you doing here?"
"Merlina, hey…" He tilted his head, his grin widening. "Didn't want to interrupt. Heard you talking, figured I'd wait until you were done."
I raised an eyebrow. "Come in." I shifted awkwardly, trying to brush off the weirdness. "You could've just…knocked."
He shrugged with a casual ease, as if this was all just normal. "Yeah, didn't want to interrupt a deep convo. Seemed rude, you know?"
I studied him for a second. "Right." I hesitated, trying to regain my footing. "Megan's not here, but you can wait. She and Phoebe went out to grab a dress for that party tonight."
Louis's eyes lit up, his interest piqued. "Brandon's party, huh?" He pushed off the doorframe and took a step into the room.
I nodded. "Yeah, I guess the whole of Belview's going."
Louis chuckled softly, a low, amused sound. "That's Brandon for you. The guy's got social skills for days. Senior year, too. Last big bash before he's outta here. No way anyone's missing it."
I grabbed a cold soda from the fridge, offering it to him with a half-smile. "I'm sure it'll be legendary."
He took it with a small, appreciative nod. "Exactly what I needed," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His gaze flicked to me, lingering for just a second too long. Then, as if he'd decided to dive straight in, he asked, "So, you got a boyfriend?"
I nearly choked on my drink. "Excuse me?"
Louis's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I overheard. It was on speaker, pretty hard not to."
I shot him a look. "Melissa's just being… Melissa."
He leaned back, unbothered. "She's curious, huh? So am I."
I couldn't find the right words, but the sudden heat in my neck made everything feel awkward. I chose to ignore it.
"So, do you?"He raised an eyebrow, clearly not letting this go.
"Do I what?"
"Have a boyfriend?" His tone was playful, and despite the distance between us, there was a shift in the mood that made everything feel a bit more intense.
"Wha—no dad," I laughed, trying to deflect. "When I do, you'll be the first to know."
Louis chuckled, but his gaze didn't leave mine. "Maybe I just like to know where I stand."
The words lingered in the air, casual but somehow a little more significant than they seemed. I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say, as I suddenly wondered if he was flirting with me. My pulse picked up pace.
Before I could respond, the door flew open, and Phoebe and Megan burst in, their laughter immediately slicing through the awkward air like a hot knife through butter.
Impeccable timing.
"Louis!" Phoebe chirped, shooting him a look over my shoulder. "You and Merlina besties now or what?"
Louis smirked, stepping back. "Not exactly. Just came for that." He nodded at one of Megan's shopping bags.
Megan sighed, already reaching for it. "Knew you'd show up the second I put it down." She tossed him the tuxedo bag like it weighed nothing. "You good now?"
"All set." He held up the bag like a trophy.
"Cool. See you tonight, tux boy." Megan winked, and Louis gave a lazy salute before heading out, leaving the door half open.
The second he was gone, Phoebe flopped onto the bed. "Okay, back to important things."
Megan dropped down next to her. "Dresses."
"We need opinions," Phoebe said, pulling out her phone. "We're aiming for hot, dramatic, and Naomi's worst nightmare."
Megan held up two photos. "Be honest, which one screams you wish you were me?"
I raised an eyebrow. "You two are literally unhinged."
"And you love it," Phoebe shot back. "Now help us slay."
Phoebe and Megan were already dragging out curling irons, makeup bags, and a full-blown ring light like they were prepping for New York Fashion Week. Megan grabbed the aux cord, blasting music that shook the dorm walls while Phoebe tossed dresses across the bed like it was a sample sale.
"Hair first, then makeup," Megan ordered, clipping up Phoebe's curls. "We don't have time to mess around."
"I call liner last," Phoebe said, flipping open her eyeshadow palette. "You know I need a calm hand for the wing."
"Calm hands, chaos vibes," I muttered, laughing as I dabbed concealer under my eyes.
By the time we were all dressed, the room smelled like hairspray and Ariana Grande perfume.
Phoebe chose a slinky lavender halter dress that hugged her in all the right places and sparkled when the light hit.
Megan went full glam in a deep emerald mini with a plunging neckline and gold heels that made her legs look endless.
I went for a red satin dress with a high slit and delicate straps that shimmered when I moved. I kept the jewelry simple, let my waves fall loose, and added a touch of gloss. Party-ready, but still me.
"Okay, we look hot," Phoebe said, grabbing her phone for a selfie. "No one talk to me unless it's to say I'm glowing."
Megan laughed. "You are glowing. Like, scientifically."
Phoebe's phone dinged. She looked at it, then up at us with a grin. "Keith's outside. He brought the limo."
Megan's jaw dropped. "Wait, what?"
"Text says: 'Limo's here. Craig's with me. Come down when you're ready.'" Phoebe read, holding up the screen.
The words Craig's with me echoed in my chest like the toll of a bell—deep, resonant, and heavy with meaning. It didn't sound like an invitation, it felt more like a warning, a ripple in the air that I couldn't shake, reminding me of everything sour I was trying to ignore tonight.
Phoebe and Megan squealed, rushing for their bags like we were late to the Met Gala.
But I didn't move. I couldn't. My legs felt like lead, rooted to the floor by something much heavier than just fear.
Phoebe's voice broke through, but I barely registered it. "Merlina!" she called, her voice excited, unaware of the storm brewing in my head.
"I'm not coming," I said softly, yet the words sounded like a quiet rebellion.
"Wait…what?" Phoebe blinked, her face frozen in disbelief. "You're not coming?"
"I'm still going," I clarified, grabbing my phone. "Just not with you guys."
Megan paused. "Why not?"
Phoebe's voice was sharp with disbelief. "Is this about Craig?"
I looked away. "I just… can't ride with him. It doesn't feel right."
Megan's face softened. "Oh… Merlina, I'm so—"
"You've got to be kidding," Phoebe cut in, her tone sharp as the mood shifted. "Keith's been planning this all day. He even got us a VIP-" She snatched her clutch off the dresser, clearly irritated. "You know what? Fine. Megan, you're riding with me. Let's go."
The disappointment in her voice stung more than I expected. Megan took one last apologetic look at me before leaving with Phoebe.
The door slammed behind them, leaving me in the quiet aftermath. My reflection in the mirror stared back—calm on the outside, but buzzing underneath.
I wasn't scared of seeing Craig Lesnar.
I was scared of what I'd do if I did.