Chapter 9: Our Encounter

"Remind me never to hang out with you again," Craig muttered, his voice half-teasing, half-annoyed.

Keith chuckled, unfazed, his eyes scanning the room. "What's with you, man? It's just girls. Relax." His grin widened, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Before Craig could respond, the soft, hesitant voice of the waitress interrupted. She approached their table, her steps almost shy but determined.

"She wants you to come over. She isn't leaving her friends," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

Keith's grin stretched wider, clearly pleased with the attention. He leaned in, voice low but playful. "You tell her to bring her crew over here. Our table's…VIP, you know?"

The waitress nodded quickly, her face flushed as she turned to walk back to the girls. Craig's gaze followed her, but his mind wasn't on her anymore. He turned toward Keith, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"Which one is it?" Craig asked casually, his tone masking something more than mild interest.

Keith's eyes immediately landed across the room, his finger pointing discreetly in her direction. "Redhead," he said, almost in a trance.

Craig's eyes flickered toward the group of girls. He saw the redhead and then, almost immediately, his gaze shifted back to Keith. 

Phoebe. Not her.

He exhaled a quiet sigh, the weight lifting from his shoulders as if something had been resolved. 

For a moment, the tension in him eased, but it didn't last long. His calm mask quickly returned, and he leaned back in his seat, trying to be unbothered.

"She's something isn't she?" Keith asked

"Ah," Craig murmured, though the word held more weight than it seemed.

Keith, still absorbed in the scene before him, muttered distractedly, his eyes never leaving the redhead. "Mmm, she's got that fire!"

Craig didn't respond. His mind wasn't on her. He sighed, sinking deeper into the seat, his gaze deliberately avoiding the group of girls, scrolling through his phone.

Merlina, Phoebe, and Megan walked over. Keith was the first to notice them, and his grin only grew wider as he stood up, completely at ease with himself.

"Well, well, look who decided to join us," he said, flashing a grin. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to drag you all the way over here, but I figured our table's a bit more…exclusive."

Phoebe rolled her eyes, Merlina hesistantly stepped forward, calm but with an undeniable tension radiating from her. Her eyes flickered to Craig for just a second, her gaze meeting his before she quickly looked away. 

Craig felt a sharp tug in his chest, the kind that had become all too familiar whenever their eyes met.

Keith gestured toward the seats, a grin never leaving his face. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. She shot Keith a knowing look before speaking, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I only came to ask why you're too high and mighty to approach a lady directly."

Keith's grin widened, completely unbothered by her jab. He leaned back in his seat, unabashed. "I thought it'd be more endearing to have someone else do the asking for me. Isn't that the polite thing they did in the '90s?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes, clearly not buying it. "Yeah, right."

But Keith's attention shifted back to Merlina and Megan, his gaze lingering on Merlina just a little longer. Craig, watching from the corner of his eye, felt something stir. He couldn't quite place it—frustration, maybe? Jealousy? He wasn't sure.

Keith's voice broke through his thoughts. "Haven't seen you around. You freshers?"

Before Merlina could respond, Phoebe cut in, clearly irritated. "That's odd, cause your friend here met us a few days ago…and was totally rude."

Craig's lips twitched, his eyes searching the room, unsure if Phoebe was talking about him, but he couldn't ignore the flicker of annoyance that crossed his face. Keith, completely confused, turned to Craig. "What? Do you know them?"

Craig shrugged, taking a slow sip from his drink. "Can't recall," he muttered nonchalantly.

Phoebe laughed, sharp and bitter. "Is he serious?" She glanced at Merlina and Megan, who remained silent, their eyes flickering between the two men.

Craig leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable, but a flicker of irritation flashed across his face. He didn't want to be here—didn't want to be part of this. And yet, here he was, tangled in something he couldn't escape.

"Well," he said after a beat, his voice thick with something that sounded like reluctance, "now that I think about it, I sorta know them."

Phoebe leaned forward, an amused smirk playing on her lips. "Now that you think about it?" she teased.

Craig didn't respond. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken words. Phoebe, sensing the moment, pushed further. "What? Do faces blur together when you're that self-absorbed?"

Craig stiffened, a sharp edge to his voice. "Only the irrelevant ones. You know…the type that talk too much but say nothing."

Phoebe's eyes widened in mock shock, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Excuse me?"

Before the verbal sparring could escalate, Keith quickly intervened, sensing the brewing storm. He placed a calming hand on Phoebe's shoulder, laughing nervously.

"Hey, hey, no need to start a bar fight over introductions," Keith said quickly, his charm back in full force. "Um… I didn't catch your names?"

Phoebe, clearly reluctant, answered first. "I'm Phoebe."

Merlina spoke softly, a sweet but cautious smile on her face. "Merlina."

Megan added in a calm, almost regal voice, "I'm Megan."

Keith nodded, pleased with their answers. "Well, I'm Keith Jacobs, and this is Craig Lesnar. But I'm sure you already know that."

Merlina and Craig exchanged a charged glance—nothing said, but everything felt. It lingered between them, a connection that neither could ignore. Craig's chest tightened, but he masked it quickly, pretending like nothing had happened.

Phoebe, oblivious of the tension between Craig and Merlina, flashed a shy smile at Keith. "Hope you both don't have anything in common," she muttered under her breath.

Keith chuckled, completely unbothered. "Phoebe, be nice."

The atmosphere got lighter, Keith and the ladies laughed and chatted easily, the initial frost thawing into tentative friendliness.

Merlina, mustering her courage, turned toward Craig. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, as she fiddled with her glass, her fingers nervously tracing the rim.

"Hey, Craig," she began, the words almost shy. "About your handbook… I got you a replacement. I'll bring it to you at school. Sounds good?"

For the first time all evening, Craig's expression softened. The usual walls he'd built so high, so effortlessly, cracked just slightly.

It wasn't just the words she said—it was the way she said them. The look in her eyes, there was no hidden agenda, no expectation of anything from him. She wasn't looking to gain something, whether it was his attention, his name, or some way into his world. She sounded… real. Genuine.

Warm.

In all the years of people trying to get close to him, trying to play their cards right or butter him up for favors, Craig had grown used to the game.

He knew the way they looked at him—too eager, too calculating. They would never bring small talk like handbooks to the table if they ever got a chance to sit with him. They would talk about…

The latest developments in his family's business empire, with eyes that sparkled a little too brightly, as if waiting for him to drop a nugget of insider info. Or they'd casually ask about the Lesnar Group like they were friends of his father, not just opportunists looking to get ahead.

Some would bring up his father's newest project, asking for a connection or pretending to be genuinely interested in his opinion, all the while sizing him up like they were reading the back cover of a book they were hoping to get into—no matter how much they pretended it was about him as a person.

Then there were the ones who wanted to talk about his future. His plans, his goals. As if they were part of his inner circle, whispering about how his next big move would affect the world. They'd drop names—big investors, old family friends—and Craig could hear the desperation in their voices as they hinted, "Hey, if you ever need someone to run numbers or help out… I've got connections, you know?"

Others would feign admiration, but it was all fake. The constant questions about his upbringing, his status, his entitlement—it always made him feel like a prize they could win if they just said the right thing at the right time.

But none of that ever felt like a real conversation. It was always calculated, like they were trying to figure out how to gain something from him. His attention, his family connections, his approval. They didn't care about him—just the idea of him, the person they could use to get to something else.

And the girls? They had their own brand of desperation. The way they'd laugh just a little too hard at his jokes, clearly trying to get his attention. Always a little too loud, a little too perfect, as if they'd rehearsed it all in front of a mirror just to make sure they caught his eye.

The one who thought they were smarter would be unnecessarily rude and disrespectful to him, exactly like Phoebe, just to seem different and less obvious.

And that was what made Merlina feel so different. She wasn't playing the game.

She wasn't buttering him up or trying to use him as a stepping stone. She was just… there. Talking about a damn handbook. It was refreshing, but in a way that made Craig realize just how hollow everything else around him had become.

This was new…unsettling.

He blinked, a faint crease appearing between his brows as he tried to make sense of his deep thoughts about Merlina. Thinking of his response, his lips parted as if to say something, but the words got lost.

He hadn't expected that.