That night, Margherita walked into her apartment around eight, dragging feet that weighed a ton each. "I'm home!"
Her parents, discussing the budget, didn't hear her. Apparently, the conveyor system at the dry cleaner had broken down and repairs would cost hundreds of euros. Dad argued they should borrow the money to keep the shop's operations smooth. Mom countered that loans would only cost them more and that they should save for a few months and deal with moving clothes around the shop by hand. Margherita's little brother, Alessandro, was playing video games on his phone on the couch.
"Hi."
The parents turned. "Oh, honey, hi. Good day?" Dad said.
Mom asked, "What's wrong?"
"Just tired. I swam a lot." It wasn't a lie, just a partial omission.
Mom grimaced. "Do you think you could pick up a couple shifts at the dry cleaner till the conveyor belt is fixed?"
Meanwhile, the P2 celebrated the reunion with Ludovica at a prestigious Michelin-star restaurant. She shared her adventures in L.A., absorbing how her childhood friends had changed during her year away. Sam and Giuliano were the same, just older. Sam had grown into a ridiculously handsome man. His unequivocal charm was a magic combination of keenness, humor, and confidence.
Giuliano had bulked up even more. The backbone of the P2, he still didn't talk much but listened intently to his friends. Ludo had always felt that Giuliano was the safety net of their little group, quietly making sure that everyone was okay.
Lorenzo was taller and even more attractive than she'd remembered. However, he still looked at her adoringly, as if Ludovica was the Virgin Mary (though definitely not a virgin, as Lorenzo knew firsthand). The pedestal he'd put her on had felt amazing at thirteen, annoying when things between them had gotten beyond a friendship, and unbearable now that they were supposed to be adults—or close enough. She didn't want to be a mother to her partner.
However, Luca had changed the most. The leader of the P2 had been a black hole of coalescing anger—and with good reason—unapproachable and mercurial.
When Ludo had left, he'd been verging on scary; what she had perceived as grief in their early teens had turned into an icy aloofness that even Lorenzo hadn't been able to get through.
He'd barely said a word since the beginning of dinner, but his expression was not the usual spiteful resentment he'd seemed to have developed toward life. He'd been listening to his friends distractedly, occasionally smiling to himself.
"Luca, how have you been?" She asked. "Aren't you lonely at the mansion without your sister?"
Sam leaned toward Ludo to conspire. "Oh, but now there's this wild girl who's been keeping him busy. Her name's Margherita Pescatore."
Luca's exaggerated reaction was completely out of character. "Since when?!" He blurted. "As if I'd ever give that pauper the time of day."
Laughter and banter ensued.
Giuliano nudged Lorenzo. "Why so gloomy? Ludo's finally here."
"Obvi." Lorenzo had been despondent the whole night, similar to his behavior during the year Ludo had been away, if not more sullen.
Giuliano pressed, "What's wrong then? Are you unwell?"
"So sickly." Sam joked.
"It's not that!" Lorenzo stood up abruptly, chair moaning against the floor. "Excuse me." He went to the bathroom.
Ludovica knew exactly what was wrong with him. She'd shared her plans with Lorenzo, and he had not like them one bit.
The rest of the P2 made light of his behavior, speculating he was jealous of all the lovers Ludo had enjoyed in the United States.
On that point, at least, they were not wrong.
School would end in mid-June; two more weeks to survive.
At recess, Margherita and Mauro walked out in the courtyard. Margherita could not wait to leave the frollops (frilly trollops, she had coined the term herself) inside and enjoy the beautiful quiet of their usual bench. June added a decent amount of heat to the glory of blooming clematis and plumbago. The gardens were marvelous with the promise of summer teasing the air.
From the window of the P2 lounge, Luca saw Margherita in the gardens with the Arcani dork and frowned. He went downstairs to casually cross paths with her.
He said, "Laundry Angel, you're uglier than usual today."
Mauro tensed, but Margherita utterly ignored the king, walking past him.
Crushed, Luca turned around. "So what? I win? Do you give up? Have you learned your place?"
Margherita had promised herself not to let him and his juvenile jabs get a rise out of her, but she.
Just.
Could.
Not.
He was so childish, and petty, and so fucking much.
Re pressed. "Wait, are you glaring at me?" He switched to an impeccable boxing stance. "Wanna go at it? 'Cos I'm pretty good...just saying." He jabbed the air in front of her face twice—really, really fast.
Vincitore was like a vortex; if she got too close, she'd be sucked into his shenanigans. She could sense Mauro's growing anxiety, which reminded her about what Vincitore was really capable of: beating a boy almost to death for dating his sister; destroying his own sister's life (and supposedly, he'd loved her so much!), pushing Mauro off a roof just because he was related to said brother.
Margherita seized Mauro's hand, which caused Mauro to violently blush.
Re felt as if he'd been slapped on the face.
She turned around and walked away at a fast, increasing pace.
Luca's insides—organs, feelings, thoughts, hopes—collapsed into a tiny ball, as if exposed to the vacuum of space.
What the hell was happening to him?
Mauro's heart was beating out of his chest. Margherita had taken his hand to run away with him, saving him yet again from that deranged lunatic. Whenever Mauro saw Vincitore, he froze, terrified. His leg hurt only when he saw him.
However, Re was not on his mind as he followed Margherita at a trot. His hand, in hers, burned and tingled. He was sweating, and it was not because of the short run nor the early summer heat. She halted by the old incinerator. Students were not allowed in this area of the school and snuck here only to make out.
Mauro had been thinking about an opportunity like this for weeks, but it was so unexpected that he scrambled to gather the courage to...kiss her? Tell her he liked her? He wanted to so badly. She released his hand, her back to the wall, and he turned to face her, fear and desire mixing in a heady concoction.
Margherita closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. "You should avoid me," she said. Mauro froze. "He's targeting me, and you should not be dragged into it, again. Didn't he push you off the roof?"
Mauro's mouth opened and closed. "Margherita, I—No. I will not let him ruin my life further. And...not quite. He just showed up unexpectedly and startled me off the roof, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't have. Who knows? We'll fight him, or at least endure him, together. I'm not leaving you alone in this." He reached for her hand again, bashful.
Margherita intertwined her fingers with his, beaming. "You're such a good friend. Thank you."
The word "friend" slapped Mauro hard. He did not make a move after that, and the word echoed in his brain for the rest of the day. He should have said something. He should have.
Luca had never paid much attention to the dork Margherita had dragged away. In fact, Luca had never paid much attention to anyone. Slouched on the bench where she liked to sit, he stared at the blue sky, browsing his memories, piecing together the blond dude with Pescatore. He thought the guy might be Arcani's younger brother...what was the chance?
The dork been around Margherita—a lot. He pulled up his phone and searched the school directory for his name: Mauro Arcani, indeed.
Are you serious?
The kid was the little brother of the guy Luca had sent to the hospital years earlier; he had even confronted Luca about it once, or tried to. Luca had received very precise instructions from Giuliano's family. The Faitaris were the pedestal on which the House of Vincitore stood firmly. A family of lawyers, the Faitaris had advised and stirred the Vincitores to keep them in clear waters for generations.
After the whole debacle with his sister, Luca had lost his mind. He'd stopped short of killing the older Arcani. The lawyers had sorted it out, but he was not to engage directly with any of the Arcanis. So, when Mauro had confronted him, all trembling and sweaty, Luca had simply walked around him and proceeded on his way. The name of the family always came first.
Then Mauro had showed up at one of Luca's favorite spots, the roof of the main building, which was supposedly off-limits. When Luca had opened the door, the younger Arcani, startled, had slipped off, causing a nightmare for the Vincitores.
What a loser.
At least, Margherita had joined the school as a result of Mauro falling off the roof. Wait, she'd saved his life. No wonder they'd bonded. Damn the Arcanis. Was Margherita dating him?
Luca walked to the cafeteria for a snack. Unfortunately, Pescatore and Arcani were sitting across from each other at a table for two. Was this karma? Luca leaned against a column. Every single person in the cafeteria stopped what they were doing to admire the king, take his picture, giggle—everyone except Pescatore and Arcani. Arcani was engrossed in telling some story, and Margherita listened, enraptured, then burst out laughing, throwing back her head.
It hurt so much; her beauty, the joy she'd never shown around him. Luca considered this must be what it felt to want, to yearn for something you could not have. No wonder common people were so angry most of the time. He could not ignore the massive, ugly, jagged anger growing inside him that was tearing everything else to shreds—logic, for example. Most people called it jealousy.
When Mauro returned to his classroom, his classmates were all staring at him. An embossed red card waited for him on his desk.
When school let up, Mauro rushed to meet Marghe outside their classrooms, red card in hand.
Marghe deflated. "Just when things were simmering down."
"I know."
Students gave them dramatic wide berths, staring.
Resigned to the inevitable, they walked out the building. A waterfall sloshed down upon them, followed by a mound of garbage. Fortunately, being a school, it was mostly paper, but some less appealing items were mixed in as well.
Fury bubbled within Margherita. She stomped back into the building and up the stairs. The doorman to the P2 lounge pushed her away, calling her all sort of unkind names. She had to resort to a knee to the nuts to get through.
At his desk, Luca had been leaning back in his chair, pondering. Now he sat up, engrossed by the sight of Pescatore, sopping wet, a clementine peel in her hair.
She tromped forward, slamming her hands on his desk. "I thought you were an evil plutocrat, but you're so much worse! You're totally worthless."
He scowled, suddenly distracted by her athletic bra under the wet t-shirt. It should not have been sexy.
She continued, "How dare you take it out on Mauro? He's done nothing to you! And what's the fucking point?"
He had no idea, honestly; it had just felt right. Worse, he couldn't handle that she was defending him. His temper got the best of him. He stood up, slamming his hands on his desk in turn, furious.
He exclaimed, "Because—damn you! You're just so dumb! Don't you get it?"
They were facing off a few centimeters apart, the desk between them. The pull drowned Margherita. Why was he so intense? Why did he care so much?
His yellow eyes were drinking her in, and she stepped back, befuddled. She said, "I get that you're a coward and a brainless spoiled brat."
He twitched. "Oh, and Arcani is a genius?"
"Why does it even matter? He's my friend!"
Luca circled around the table. "Your friend?! Wow, you really are dumb! Obviously he likes you!"
Margherita's adrenaline was through the roof. "So what? I like him, too, okay? He's awesome! A million time better than anyone in this stupid place! A billion times better than you and your prissy bullies!"
Luca walked around the desk slowly and leaned forward to get the clementine out of her hair. She skirted his hand and elbowed him in the side. "Were you going to hit me? First, not so easy, and second what a damned loser! You're three time my size!"
Luca grimaced, holding his side. "Hit you? You psychotic gang girl. I'd never hit a girl. The fact that you are alive proves it."
Margherita suddenly realized her grave mistake; in her fury to seek out Re, she'd abandoned Mauro to fend for himself in the face of a red card. She spun around and sprinted back to the courtyard.
Ludovica had met the P2 for lunch at the cafeteria, but Luca was late. Then, a commotion broke. A bunch of guys surrounded a blond kid, who looked positively panicked.
Ludo frowned. "Isn't that the kid that fell off the roof? Is he still being bullied?"
Giuliano nodded, clearly annoyed, toying with the ice in his empty glass. "Mauro Arcani: the latest victim of one of Luca's red cards."
Sam added, "Re started again with the red cards, without our consent, and on the worst possible subject."
Ludo rolled her eyes. "I thought Re had changed. What's he thinking?"
"He isn't," Giuliano answered, miffed.
Sam shrugged. "The red cards were fun for a minute, but dignified contempt rotted into bullying a bit too quickly."
Meanwhile Mauro exchanged unpleasant remarks with some fifth years. The tension was rising.
Ludovica asked, "So why bring the red cards back, now?"
Giuliano shrugged. "Well, the laundry angel got under his skin."
"Oh?"
A sopping wet girl hurtled through the crowd, running toward Arcani. A fifth-year tripped her, and she went sprawling at Arcani's feet. Mauro crouched by her, worried, darting his attention between her and his persecutors.
Luca had followed Pescatore at a dignified pace and entered the cafeteria just when Lorenzo, who'd sat quietly sullen until then, stood abruptly. "Stop acting like kids! This has gone too far!"
This was unprecedented. The P2 never got involved. Lorenzo Tristante spoke little and never, absolutely never, yelled.
Lorenzo walked to the center of the circle and picked up Margherita in his arms, helping her to her feet. "Can you stand?"
Margherita was beet red, nodding, favoring her left foot. Lorenzo put an arm around her shoulders to help her.
Luca watched her practically melt at Lorenzo's touch. Arcani buzzed beside them like a bee, wanting to get Margherita away from Tristante. For once, Luca agreed with the dork.
Ludo watched the whole scene unfold. She'd never been this surprised in her life. Beside raising his voice, Lorenzo had never stood up for anyone, including himself. Sheer joy warmed her, inside and out.
Luca walked to the front of the crowd, wide-eyed, fists clenched.
Lorenzo noticed him and said the last thing anyone, including Lorenzo himself, had expected him to say, "Luca, please back off, okay?"
Luca exploded. "You like this hick?"
Silence.
Ludo covered her mouth.
The crowd whispered.
Lorenzo's silence was deafening. He had no idea why he'd acted this way—or better, so many reasons clashed inside him he wasn't sure which to believe. He couldn't stand how immature Luca could be, a real tyrant who assumed he could just grab anything and anyone he wanted as if by birthright; bullies infuriated him; he'd wanted to make Ludo jealous—definitely—but also, there was just something about Pescatore. He'd opened up to her—to an extent—and he'd never done that with anyone, beside Ludo. Or maybe he'd just wanted to push Luca's buttons, because the guy, somehow, was clearly head over heels.
Whatever, the reason, Margherita was tucked under his arm and positively freaking out. With the weight of Lorenzo's arm and everyone's attention smoldering her, her hopes popped all over the place like corn in a kettle.
Luca was shaking. "For real? Let her go right now, or we're through."
Lorenzo didn't.
Re had known that Margherita liked Lorenzo, but he sure did not expect his best friend to like her back. Yet, why wouldn't he? She was the fucking sun. Too upset to counter, Luca stormed out. Sam and Giuliano followed him, throwing confused glances back at Lorenzo.
Lorenzo deflated, his arm relaxed around Margherita, and only then she realized how tense Tristante had been throughout the confrontation.
Ludo walked up to them and smiled, taking Margherita's hand. "Come with me."
Lorenzo let her go, and Margherita followed Ludovica, docile, in a fog. Mauro, grateful, watched the super model disappear with Margherita into the bathroom.
Author's note: I firmly believe that a huge component of being attractive (or finding someone else attractive) is confidence. Margherita might not look like a model (though AI generated pictures make everyone look gorgeous IMO 😝) but she's doing her own thing and that makes her incredibly attractive to my eyes and apparently to the eyes of many other people in this story. Long story short: you do you. No one else can! Star if you liked it 🥰 Next week...."Obsessed"!!!