All Chapters of TEMPTING THE ENEMY (MM): Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

I shouldn’t have gone out.Seth wasn’t home, hadn’t been since earlier that afternoon. I didn’t ask where he went. Didn’t care. The second that front door clicked shut behind him, I shoved on a hoodie and bolted like a fucking mutt let off his leash. I needed to move. I needed to breathe. The walls were pressing in again, choking me with silence and tension and fucking feelings I didn’t know what to do with.I jogged for miles. Just kept running, past streets, past cars, past the goddamn weight clawing at my chest.Ended up by the riverbank, the moon slicing through the water like a blade. Quiet. Cold. Wet earth and cigarettes. My body was sore. My lungs burned. But my heart—fuck, my heart hurt worse.I sat in the dirt and fished out a smoke with shaking fingers. My hands were fucking trembling. Like I was fifteen again, panicking over some boy I was too scared to kiss.Except I wasn’t scared now.I was angry.Frustrated.Fucking miserable.Because Zenya—Zenya hadn’t said a word to me

MIGUEL'S POV.It was Monday.School didn’t just start—it fucking slammed into me.Same classrooms. Same fake-ass smiles. Same boring announcements echoing through the halls like some dystopian sermon. And Seth. Still sitting behind me in first period like nothing happened. Except everything had. We weren’t dating. We weren’t even fighting anymore. We were strangers again. Like a fucking reset button got smashed into our ribs and now we were just pretending the fire never happened.He didn’t look at me.Didn’t even twitch when I dropped my pen on purpose. Didn’t glance when I turned to cough or adjusted my seat so loud it scraped the floor. Just kept scribbling notes like I didn’t exist.And maybe I didn’t.That thought made me fucking nauseous. My stomach was acid and regret and all the shit we never said.I went through the day half-blind, half-deaf, nodding like a puppet during my student council convos. People talked about midterms, extracurriculars, some fundraising shit. I preten

Seth’s POVI was breathing too hard.Was this right?I couldn’t fucking tell. I couldn’t think. My brain was shot, buzzing, torn in two. But my body—my body was on fire. Starved.Miguel.I needed Miguel. I needed something. Anything. Someone who looked like him, moved like him, fucking breathed like him. And Byron—God—Byron wasn’t him, but he was close enough in the dark.We didn’t talk much after that kiss. Didn’t need to. Byron’s hand was already on my wrist, tugging me through the packed streets to his car like he’d known me forever. His grip firm, confident, with just enough roughness to make me feel like I’d melt if I let go.He drove fast. Music low. His windows fogged from how hot it felt inside the car. I sat there, legs spread, my jeans tight and miserable, my hands tapping against my knees like I’d explode. Like maybe I already had.The place wasn’t massive. Not some penthouse or glass castle. A clean duplex with soft lights on the porch, black railing, a polished door that

Jeremy's povSomething was off. Off enough that even in my half-hungover, post-championship haze, I felt the chill crawl up my spine when Seth stuttered.We were walking home after Coach's announcement, and Seth had barely spoken. Had barely breathed. He'd gone pale as fuck when Byron Riley had walked into that locker room like some goddamn titan. The guy looked like he was born in ice skates, all jaw and lean muscle, familiar in a way that made the air in the room feel charged as hell.And Seth? Fuck. He froze.I asked him—just casually, like any best friend would—where the hell he'd disappeared to the night before after we got trashed. He stammered. Said something about "needing air." Then he wouldn’t look at me again. I wouldn't look at anyone really. But when Byron spoke? Seth looked like he was being strangled by ghosts.Everyone knows Byron Riley. NHL legend. Four-time championship winner. The guy's a fucking myth in the hockey world. But that spark, that weird energy between th

SETHS POVI slammed the door hard enough that the whole frame shook and something clattered off the wall behind me. My breath was stuck somewhere between a ragged sob and a fucking scream, jaw clenched tight enough I thought my molars would crack. My fist was still balled up from shoving Byron off me, from watching that damn smirk on his face when he told me I was hard like it was some punchline. Like he hadn’t planned the whole damn thing from the start.The house was dark, too quiet. Not even the usual flicker of the TV or Jeremy’s laptop lighting up the living room with some dumbass horror movie. Just thick, pressing blackness and silence that felt way too heavy to be empty.I hit the light switch and it lit the room like an interrogation. I froze.Jeremy was there. Sitting in the chair. Elbows on his knees. Hands clasped tight. His eyes lifted to meet mine like he hadn’t moved for hours. Just wait.We locked eyes and something in me flinched.“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, his