Margherita trembled, like a little bird in his arms.
"Sorry," he said, immediately releasing her, and reassuming a safe distance. "Maybe the power's out?"
Margherita's blood pressure was through the roof. The station was really dark, and so was the city above. She felt evil ooze from the tunnels. And yet, what had agitated her the most had been Re's fleeting hug and the swift release that had followed. Confusion befuddled Margherita. Thunder crashed, and she yelped.
Luca touched her back gently. "It's okay," he said. "We'll be okay."
Was the king reassuring her? Margherita nodded, even if he couldn't see her.
Re could hear her breathing hard. In a fever fog, his thoughts wandered in between the excitement of being alone with her and the guilt that she may be afraid to be alone with him. His mind was gently slipping away...
The intercom announced a power outage several blocks wide and a traffic ban due to the rain and the temporary darkness. "...please be patient and shelter in place. The techs will be on site as soon as possible."
Ten minutes went by with Margherita trying to calm herself. She texted Marco that she was stuck in the power outage. Marco replied not to worry, that no one would be around the pizzeria in this weather anyway. Even the old man had left in a hurry, cursing the elements, with a to-go casserole in hand.
Marghe felt terrible for Re, who hadn't said a word the whole time. His hand was still against her back. "Did you—did you have anywhere you had to be?" She asked, since he'd mentioned earlier that he had to go.
Luca did not answer. At least the station was dry and warm. She twisted toward him and his hand fell off her back.
"Re?" She called. "Re!"
Luca startled awake, groggy. "What? Pescatore, you okay?"
She was holding the front of his coat, straddling one of his legs, breathing hard, pretty close to his face, judging by the feel of it.
He'd never been more aroused in his life, yet he burst out laughing, as she released him and fumbled to go back to sit at a safe distance from him. (Too far, according to Re.) His laughter transitioned to cough.
Then he said, serious, "Pescatore, necrophilia? Really?"
Both of them burst out laughing, but his cough worsened.
"Re, are you okay?"
"Nope." His voice sounded hoarse now, and he shuddered.
She touched his forehead, again: scalding. "Re, can you take your wet coat off? I think you'd be better."
Re was a bit delirious but couldn't fail to see the humor in this situation. "I mean, yea. I thought you'd never ask."
Marghe found herself grinning in the dark. He may be evil, but the devil was funny.
"Done," he said. "Your turn?"
Unexpectedly, she answered, "M-mm," seductively. Margherita hadn't known she'd had this side to her, and she loved it.
Meanwhile, Re was living the dream. Wow, the girl could play along. He didn't care how many decades it would take, he would fucking marry her. His whirling thoughts stopped when her puffer jacket unzipped. Then she slowly removed the sleeves, and...what was that sound? It could have been anything.
He asked, a little too eager, "Um, what did you take off, just now?"
"Don't be an idiot. Here, lean into me. Let's move to a dry spot. Right here." She guided him along the wall to the next bench so he could lie down with his head on her legs. Then, she covered him up with her puffer jacket and her scarf.
Re thought that if he died now, he'd die a happy man. He turned on his side, so that his face would be toward her, though he could not see her. She felt warm and dry, and smelled like the sea and vanilla. Re closed his eyes, feverish but happy. He'd never been this close to another person, let alone the one he was crushing on.
Margherita could not breathe. She was worried sick that Re would pass out, that anything might happen to him while she could do nothing to help. Also, with him so close, she couldn't help thinking back to his lips grazing her neck. When he'd turned sideways, she realized she had to breathe or die, and she tried for the second.
"Pescatore..." His voice was low and raw. "It smells like you."
"If you make a joke about fish or laundry—"
But he didn't."I'm sorry for the worst first date of your life—"he coughed in her leg.
Margherita reached out instinctually, and her palm found the side of his head.
He stopped coughing and added, "Well, it had better be the only first date of your life."
She retreated her hand. "Go eat glass, Vincitore."
He chuckled-coughed. "You're a terrible nurse."
"I'm the only nurse you've got, so quit complaining. Your mom will do a better job once you get home."
He turned away from her. Now she could tell the contours of his profile in the dark. Some blue emergency light had switched on in the tunnel. Maybe he hadn't noticed, because his eyes were closed. His features were striking, and he was more handsome now that he was somewhat neutralized.
Maybe because feverish, he mumbled, "I don't see my parents much." His statement shocked her. "They're always away for work, mostly, in New York."
"You live alone in that huge mansion?"
He didn't answer, still shivering. No wonder he was a wacko; he was a teenager with no guidance and unlimited means.
She added, "You...you must get lonely."
"Lonely? No way." He did. All the time.
Now he was giving his back to her. Feelings were not talked about in his family, mostly because he didn't talk to his family. Sharing emotions was particularly hard for him.
She reached a hand to his shoulder, startling him. "I'm sorry about today. I'll let you hit me back..." She closed her eyes. "Go on, one fair slap in the face."
He turned face up and looked at her in the penumbra. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she looked like she was bracing herself to be hit in the face, as if he'd ever do that. He lifted a hand to her cheek, gently, giving her a jolt. Her eyes flew open, and there it was again, the magnetic attraction between them, a force like gravity.
Margherita was hypnotized.
Was this a part he played to get girls? Acting like he'd never seen anyone more beautiful? Like there was no one else in the world he'd rather look at?
The lights switched back on. She turned away. He sat beside her, wrapped in her puffer coat. The speaker announced the incoming train in less than a minute.
"Pescatore..."
"Yes?"
His eyes, unseeing and unfocused, lingered on the advertising across the tracks. He flashed that irresistible, barely-there smile and mumbled, "Nothing. Nothing at all."
Her gaze lingered on him. There was more to Luca Vincitore than she'd thought. Or was she just making excuses to justify her confused emotions? He got off at Lanza, and she remained alone on the train with her doubts.
When Margherita arrived at school the next morning, she wondered if she'd taken some strange hallucinogenic drug without realizing it. People smiled at her, nodded; several individuals she'd never noticed before said hi, calling her by name. Mauro was waiting for her in front of the main building.
Margherita was freaking out. "What the fuck is happening?"
Mauro, a bit more abrupt than usual, pulled up the school's Insta. The page had reposted from a scandal blog a picture of Margherita and Luca, hugging by the Naviglio Grande, when she'd helped him to the subway.
The title read, "The signorotto gets cuddly under the rain."
"This is not what happened! And why are you angry?" Margherita asked, defensive.
"Because I care for you, okay? This guy is the psycho that almost murdered my brother, Margherita!"
"I'm sorry." She exhaled. "I found him soaked in the rain, unwell. I helped him to the subway."
Mauro scowled. "Why didn't he call a minion?"
"No idea." It hadn't even occurred to Margherita.
"Was he drunk?" Marghe explained he'd caught a fever. He hadn't been at school yet.
Mauro's hope rekindled: maybe he still had a chance.
Re returned to school on Thursday. Sam and Giu welcomed him to the P2 lounge with open arms and pats on the back. "Even the great king can get a cold! Are you all better?"
"I'm fine."
Giuliano pulled out his phone. "We saw the Insta, man, your date...it was with Pescatore, wasn't it? Late into Sunday evening, it seems..."
Luca looked away, scratching the back of his head. "Well, yeah."
Sam asked, "How was it?"
"Pretty awful." He'd had the best time of his life but was pretty sure he'd been the lousiest date possible.
"Where did you do it?"
"It? Mostly, on the subway."
Sam hollered, "On the subway?! Dude! That's so hot! Even I have never done it on the subway!"
Luca played along. "I mean, I guess it was kind of exciting."
Giuliano grinned. "Luca, I'm sorry for ragging you so much. You're the greatest. The righteous leader of the P2."
Re rolled his eyes. His friends were just messing with him.
At recess, when the P2 (minus Lorenzo, of course) walked into the cafeteria, the whole school stopped. This was the first time Re was sighted after the article and disappearing for four days.
"What?" Re asked, miffed, and the students hurried back to their business.
Laura took center stage, and pulled out her phone. "We were just wondering if you could tell everyone how this is just stupid gossip."
Luca watched the picture of him and Margherita; it was kind of adorable.
Meanwhile, Margherita sat at the farthest end of the cafeteria, in a corner. She preferred her back to the wall. A spoon of yogurt that the pauper had clearly brought from home was stuck in midair as she watched the scene unfold.
Luca double tapped the photo on Laura's phone, and the heart count went up by one. Laura opened her mouth in a silent scream.
Luca enjoyed this very much. "That's Pescatore, my girlfriend," he stated to the world. The yogurt fell off Margherita's spoon.
As soon as the P2 left the cafeteria, Margherita followed them straight to the P2 lounge. Even Mauro was sympathetic to her cause, stomping after her. She felt like the star in a musical as the people that had shunned her for months parted around her beaming rainbows. Even the racist doorman to the P2 lounge bowed to her.
"You're fired!" She barked at him.
The fifth year looked at Re at the other end of the room. Re nodded, as if firing him had been on his mind. The guy squirmed away. Giuliano and Sam could not believe what was happening.
Margherita stalked to Luca and leaned threateningly over his desk. She was on fire, and Re felt the privilege of witnessing a marvel of the world.
"Why did you say that?" She blurted. "You know that I'm not your girlfriend." Mauro lingered behind her, enjoying every second of the exchange.
Luca looked up at her. Boy, he could do this all day. Had he always loved school so much? "Did you like your life better before or now?"
She had not feared for her life once, today. People had finally started talking to her, and she liked some of them. Even Mauro was thriving. Two girls and one guy had asked him out within hours. The more he turned them down, the more mysterious and popular he became. However, popularity wasn't the deciding factor, though Mauro had been a lot more cheerful. What swayed Margherita was the ceasing of the constant bullying, which had been exhausting.
She conceded, "Okay. Good point, but only if we all know that this is a lie."
"No skin off my back," said Luca who felt full and happy like an orange in Sicily.
"And the racist door douche remains fired?" Luca nodded. "Well, then, thank you!" She beamed and trotted out the lounge, Mauro, grinning, in tow.
Re leaned back in his chair, rolling away from his desk, hands in his short hair. "Fu-u-u-u-u-ck..." he said.
Giuliano and Sam, bewildered, had watched this new chapter unfold in the life of the king.
Sam, leaned over Giuliano's back. "Dude, you're fucked."
Giuliano laughed. "So she gets the clout and the title, but you don't even screw her?"
Damn. He was in love.
For several weeks Margherita lived a blessed life. Margherita and Mauro were the coolest duo at school. Some first years started a podcast entitled "Being Pescatore," which was entirely based on fantasizing about being Luca Vincitore's girlfriend. It was total trash, and students loved it.
Re wanted Margherita to ease into the idea of being his girlfriend. He walked with her at times, to make sure people saw them together enough, but never pressed her, careful not to invade her space. Plus, Arcani was around her like a guard dog, snarling at him.
Re even invited Margherita to Sam's annual birthday debauchery, but Happy Pizza was busy so close to Christmas, and she could not make it. He didn't see her throughout winter break and missed her terribly.
However, the new routine did not survive for long in the new year. One Tuesday in mid-January, Margherita arrived at school amidst a sea of hostility: snarls and glares. The land of plenty had gone back to a barren hell. Mauro waited for her by the main gate, wrapped up in a green scarf. People gossiped around him.
Margherita whispered-screamed, alarmed, "What. The. Fuck?"
Mauro rubbed his face in his hands, red creeping up his neck. "A rumor."
"What rumor?"
"That you are cheating on Re with me."
"Why?!" She asked. Mauro was acting really weird. "And who cares? Re knows I'm not his girlfriend."
"I'm not so sure." Mauro choked, fidgeting.
Margherita wondered if Mauro was afraid that Luca would be violent to him. He certainly wouldn't do that, right?
"Marghe," Mauro struggled with his words, utterly ashamed. "There are pictures..."
Apparently, compromising pictures of Margherita and Mauro had been posted on Insta—how? Margherita gasped, pupils dilating in sheer astonishment.
Laura planted herself in front of Margherita. "For some reason I will never understand, you have the most amazing guy in the world carrying a torch for you, and you keep brushing him off and being rude to him. Now, cheating? Stop stringing him along!"
"I'm not—"
Laura interrupted her. "But you loved your little power trip, the sudden popularity, huh? You act high and mighty, but you're just like everyone else!"
Wow, that had been quite the tirade, but the last bit stung. Margherita had indeed faked her way into popularity.
Re walked up to them, cold, reserved. The crowd stepped back.
Margherita didn't see him, behind her. She said, "What proof do you even have? I'm really curious to see these pictures!"
Laura, smug, presented the pictures she had evidently printed. Was this wretched creature the origin of the gossip?
Re stared at the one picture in Laura's hand, eyebrows arching in unexpected realization. In the print, Pescatore, enamored, gazed languidly into Arcani's hazel eyes.
The ground shifted under his feet.
Laura egged the king on. "Re, Pescatore just used you, while going with Arcani behind your back."
Astonished, Marghe turned to realize that Re was behind her.
Laura pressed, "I mean, are you actually going out? You just helped her out of kindness, I bet, and she took advantage of you!"
Re was not known for his kindness.
Marghe turned back to Laura and yelled, "That's not me, Beltagna! It's true that it benefited me to let people believe Re and I were going out, but I'm not a liar!" She turned to Re and said, wholeheartedly, "I don't care if no one believes me, as long as you do." Her own words surprised her—and appalled Mauro.
Margherita turned to Mauro, pleading, "Tell him; that's not me!"
Laura insisted, "Don't let her fool you again, Re! Do you think this is the only picture?" She pulled out of her pocket a little stack and fanned them out. Margherita in Mauro's arms, laughing. Margherita and Mauro, kissing.
Kissing.
Re averted his gaze. Something had shattered inside of him. He couldn't hear anymore. Couldn't see. Laura steered him away amidst a rising tide of whispers.
What the hell had just happened?
Author's note: Thunderstorms are quite common in northern Italy, but more so in the spring. Normally, in November, it just rains all the time lol ⛈️ Star if you liked the chapter 🥰 See you next week!