𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.
The woman of impeccable beauty was the infinite definition of her name. Calm and poise.
Born into a violent life of guns and knives, you would assume a Mafia Princess like her would be training and preparing to be the next heir...
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The expectation of what college would be like was high.
My expectation for high school was similar. I thought that high school would be exactly what a high school musical was like. Friends, wildcats, boyfriends and girlfriends—maybe not so much singing and dancing but still, I hoped.
Instead what I had gotten was bullies, stares, musty insecure boys who thought skinny was the pretty, and girls who would be my friends just because of their status in life.
Now, I was well aware that college would be insanely different to high school only in the terms of classes, the environment, and studying—but when it came to parties, friends, and people, I had a feeling that nobody would magically change after a break of only a few weeks.
So, I was nervous about the outcome.
Would it be better than high school, or worse?
I guess today we'd likely find out.
Luckily for me, Hayden knew how to drive. This meant for me, I wouldn't have to get a driver to take me and make a whole big scene aboutthe great 'Mafia Princess Serenity' studying at their school.
The bad side of this was that Hayden loved to sleep in, he was incredibly bad when it came to timing whereas I was an early bird. So it was only in a manner of time if he was going to arrive in thirty minutes or not—most likely not considering he hadn't answered any of my messages.
To pass time, I decided to eat some breakfast. I hardly ate breakfast, I mostly preferred dinner or late lunch but breakfast was hardly ever on my agenda.
All I ate was some fruit that my mother had cut up a day or so ago, I had placed a handful into a bowl and mindlessly stood and ate behind the counter.
"Morning Papà." I smile up at my father as he walks into the kitchen fresh as a daisy. Crisp in a casual black shirt and denim jeans. He was also an early waker, whereas Mamma was not.
He hums in response, pressing a kiss to my hair as he walks past me over to the coffee machine.
"Excited?" He turns his head over his shoulder to look at me, a signature brow raised prior to his question.
I shrug as I shove an orange slice into my mouth—I love oranges.
"Nervous," I answer after consuming the fruit. Papà turns around slowly, taking a few steps until he was in front of me.
His fatherly power has now flared and his expression merely frowned into concern. I braced myself for the talk.
"Serene..." He plays with the shorter ends of my hair, a little smile growing onto his expression.
