I blinked, then leaned in like I was inspecting a evidence in a crime scene. The tear in the corner of the page was barely there.
"Seriously? It's a paper cut. Trust me, the book's still breathing." I said, trying to make light of the situation.
He raised an eyebrow, all deadpan. "It was mint condition."
I smirked. "You're not gonna sue me, are you?"
For half a second, I thought he might actually crack a smile. But nope—just that same unreadable stare.
"I'm really sorry," I said, dialing back the sass just a little. "It must've happened when I was flipping through it. I'll get you a new one if it matters that much."
I tried to offer him a peace treaty in the form of a small smile. "I'm Merlina, by the way. You are…?"
He looked at me like I'd asked him what two plus two was. "Like you don't know."
My smile froze. "Excuse me?"
He stepped forward, closing the space between us like it was nothing. "Craig Lesnar."
And just like that, my heart decided to misbehave. For a second, I forgot how to blink.
His gaze locked onto mine—steady, unflinching. I didn't move, even though every instinct was telling me to either run or step back.
But before either of us could say anything else, the air around us cracked with the sound of footsteps.
"Heyyy!" Phoebe's voice rang out like a cymbal crash, bright and intrusive. "What's going on here?"
She and Megan popped into view, eyes wide with curiosity and clearly trying to decode the situation.
Craig gave them a passing glance, then just walked off without a word, head down, already back on his phone like we were yesterday's notifications.
Phoebe blinked after him. "What the hell?" She gasped, watching him go, "Did he just…Craig Lesnar is such an asshole."
"He's so rude," I muttered. "Honestly felt like talking to a brick wall."
Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "What kind of person just brushes people off like that?"
Megan laughed. "And apparently, he's got a fan club. You should see how many people are kissing his ass."
"Wait," I said, catching up. "You two know him?"
Phoebe shot me a look like I'd grown a second head. "Who doesn't?"
Megan leaned in like she was about to deliver royal gossip. "Craig Lesnar is basically Belview's royalty, all that's missing is a crown and a throne, made of daddy's money."
"Okay…" I said slowly. "So he's… popular?"
"Popular's putting it mildly," Megan said, already scrolling on her phone.
Phoebe rolled her eyes. "But trust me, he's not all that."
"Yeah yeah, just the son of Charles Lesnar. CEO of CCL Group, Forbes cover, billionaire dad." Megan's voice laced with sarcasm.
"Is he?" I couldn't help but feel a flicker of interest.
"But who cares?" Phoebe said with a shrug. "He's a walking ick. Craig Lesnar is what happens when ego drinks espresso."
"He was just…shut off," I muttered. "Cold. Like nothing outside his own bubble mattered. Everything about him was unwelcoming."
"And clearly," Phoebe added, "he has a thing for ignoring everyone. Mini God wanna-be."
I tried to brush it off with a laugh, but I couldn't shake that moment—his voice, his eyes, the way he moved like he didn't need anyone. It stuck with me like static cling.
Later that evening, as we crossed the campus toward Phoebe's car, the sky bruised with the last shades of sunset, she turned to me again.
"So, uh… what were you even doing with Craig Lesnar?"
I paused. "He just let me borrow his handbook. That's it."
Phoebe raised an eyebrow like she didn't believe me for a second. But I just smiled and kept walking.
What was so special about Craig Lesnar, even a little exchange felt like qualifying for the World Cup.
Back at the hostel, after dinner and small talk and shared memes, I curled up on my bed and FaceTimed home.
My dad, Aiden Sanchez, answered with my siblings squeezed into the frame. Melissa was waving. Alistair had a bowl of cereal like it was the middle of the day.
Fiona—my dad's wanna-be wife, hovered in the background, clearly listening.
"The day was fine," I told them. "Pretty chill. Productive."
Alistair snorted. "Did you make friends? Real ones or just people who smile fake?"
"I made real-ish ones. My roommates are cool."
Melissa grinned. "No mean girls? No secret cults?"
"Not yet," I laughed. "Though one professor already hit us with a surprise test. Zero chill."
"Welcome to the big leagues," Dad said, smiling. "Keep your head down. Stay focused. No distractions."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I remember."
After we hung up, I sat there for a moment, staring at my desk. The new copy of the handbook I'd picked up was sitting there, untouched.
I didn't mention Craig on the call. Not even a hint.
But the truth was, I couldn't stop thinking about him.
Craig Lesnar.
Cold, untouchable, unreadable.
And yet… unforgettable.
Day one, survived.
Barely.
And somehow, I had a feeling this was only the beginning.