Can you damage someone beyond repair?
Luca plays his role as the loyal underboss. Violent, lethal, flawless. The lapdog, the starboy.
On the surface, he maintains his facade of smirks and casual charm, but beneath the mask, thereʼs a profound dark...
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THE GIRLS SITTING ATTHE table to my right are all talking at once, their voices blending into one. I recognize them—mostly the type who look like they walked straight out of a Ralph Lauren ad. Shiny hair, flawless skin.
I fiddle with the crust of my sandwich, wondering what it’s like to feel like you fit somewhere without even having to try.
I hear Adriana before I see her.
There’s no missing the sharp, rhythmic click of heels against the floor as she walks toward me. I glance up just in time to see her drop her black Prada bag onto the seat next to mine, the soft leather making a quiet thump as it lands.
Around her wrist, a delicate gold Cartier bracelet catches the light, gleaming against her olive skin. Her nails are perfectly manicured, a soft blush-pink that matches the glossy sheen on her lips.
“Um, no offense, love,” Adriana starts, sitting down across from me. “But did you get hit by a bus this morning?”
I give her a weak smile. “I’m fine,” I say, “Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
I stayed up all night studying for the Chem test, and then I had to be up early to get Archie ready for school.
She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further. “There’s a party happening this Friday. Do you wanna come over? We can get dressed at my place, then we’ll go together?”
“Oh...” My voice falters a little, caught between wanting to say yes and the uncertainty bubbling up in my chest.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
I hesitate for a moment, but Adriana’s waiting patiently for my answer, and I figure it’s best to just rip the band aid off.
“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be my friend,” I tell her. “And invite me to stuff.”
I hate that I sound so insecure. But it’s true. There’s always this nagging voice in the back of my mind, always whispering that people don’t really want me around.
Adriana’s face scrunches. “Wren.” Her voice is steady, but there’s a hint of frustration in it. “I volunteered to be your guide for your first few weeks. I wasn’t forced.”
I blink, her words sinking in. “You… volunteered?”
“Yes, silly,” she says with a playful eye-roll, giving me a light nudge. “You think you’re the only one that feels left out? Haven’t you noticed how they look at me?”
I haven’t.
I glance up, casting a subtle look around the cafeteria, noticing how the high-society girls sit, prim and proper. And for the first time, I catch it—the slight way they steer clear of Adriana, the subtle disdain in their glances. It’s faint, but it’s there, like a shadow lurking behind their polite smiles.
