All Chapters of My Enemy [BL]: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The boys’ locker room buzzed with its usual pre-practice chaos, metal lockers slamming shut, rubber soles squeaking against the tile, and laughter echoing from the hallway.Rowan stood at his locker, head down, pulling on his basketball jersey, but his moves were sluggish. His mind wasn’t on the game; it was tangled up in thoughts about Rachel, this mysterious woman who somehow had given his mom L.S.’s number.He couldn’t recall his mom ever mentioning a friend named Rachel. Not once. Sure, she had coworkers, but none stuck in his memory. As he tugged the jersey over his head, his brows furrowed, and he couldn’t shake the nagging thought that maybe his dad would have some answers.If not, he’d have to drive back to Clearwater to find out more. He didn’t want to, but the uncertainty ate at him, and he couldn’t shake the gut feeling that Rachel wasn’t just some casual acquaintance.Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Alex sauntering over, spinning a basketball on his fingertip like he alw

Rowan stood there for a moment, letting his gaze wander over the study the shelves filled with leather-bound books, framed certificates from years ago, the faint smell of whiskey and old wood mingling together in a strangely comforting way. Watching his father lean back in his chair, speaking in that calm, steady way, something tightened in Rowan’s chest.There were times, scattered and rare, when he remembered why people admired Roderick Harrigan. He was controlled, generous when he felt like it, endlessly composed—a man who carried himself like he understood responsibility better than most. And despite the silence that hung between them like a wall neither knew how to break, Rowan couldn’t picture this man being involved in his mother’s death.He had spent years suspecting it anyway because the case had closed too quickly, because no one questioned anything, because everyone had just moved on while he felt stuck, but right now, sitting across from Roderick, that theory seemed almost

Atlas’s POVMeanwhile, across town, the mall buzzed like its own little universe filled with early-evening chatter, glowing under festive lights, and carrying the sweet, warm scent of cinnamon pretzels wafting through every time someone opened the food court doors.Millie marched ahead, her determination evident as she stormed through one boutique after another, more like a warrior preparing for battle than a girl just trying to pick a winter ball dress. She dragged Tori, Frank, and me along, moving from rack to rack like the perfect dress was hiding just out of sight.Millie held up a short, shimmering blue dress, studied it like it was a precious artifact, and then put it back with a sigh straight from her soul. "Nope. Too sparkly. I’d look like a disco ball in this. Not happening."Tori, already struggling with the pile of dresses Millie had dismissed, let out an exasperated groan. "Millie, come on! They all look amazing on you. Literally every dress you’ve tried on since school en

I pulled the curtain shut as quietly as I could, trying not to slam it into him. "Shh! Just... just hide!" I hissed, pressing myself against the wall, hoping they wouldn’t notice.Frank blinked at me, still baffled. "Hide? Atlas... are you scared of them?"I waved a hand vaguely, forcing a laugh even though my heart was racing. "No! Not scared. I just... don’t want to deal with their nonsense right now, okay?"He raised an eyebrow, but a grin crept onto his face. "Ah, so it’s panic-mode, not fear. Got it."I wanted to playfully smack him for teasing me, but then I realized just how close we were in the cramped stall. My chest was almost pressed against his, and the warm scent of him hit me all at once woodsy cologne, soap, and a hint of Frank’s natural musk and my face heated immediately."Okay... maybe we’re a little too close," I murmured, trying to step back, but the small space and his broad frame meant there wasn’t much room to maneuver.Before I could move any further, his hands

My lips found Frank’s again, urgent, as I swallowed the soft moan he let out. I pressed harder, whispering "shh, shh," thinking maybe a kiss could hush us both.Every thrust of his hips sent a shock through me, denim rubbing against denim, the thick outline of him moving over mine in slow, motions. I could feel my own cock pulsing, trapped and leaking, the friction maddening—yet it still didn’t feel like enough.’God, it’s too much, but not enough.’Frank’s hands were all over me. One slid under my shirt, flat against my spine, tracing each vertebra as if he was mapping me out. His fingers were warm, and when one dipped to the small of my back, pulling me closer, I couldn’t help but arch into him, shuddering. The other hand went lower, cupping my ass, guiding our rhythm... up, down, circling, until I was instinctively rocking against him, my thighs trembling.I bit down on his lower lip to muffle the whimper rising in my throat. In response, he inhaled sharply, his hips bucking agains