Potere | Book II ✓

iv | worth fighting for

a/n: yes, i'm alive. barely. it's been a while since i've been able to sit down to write so if this chapter isn't up to par, i apologize GREATLY.

p.s. i'm so, so, so sorry for making you all wait.

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Previously, on Potere:

In loving memory, of Federico De Santis.

"Brace yourself, Liam...they're coming.  You have my queen."

"—If the Russians can dismantle De Santis, then they can surely do the same to us."

"Ms. Faith, he doesn't answer anymore."

"The Rico you knew...isn't the Rico I sent to Russia."

"If you could pick the title for his story, what would you choose?"

"Tragedy to Majesty."

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I wish I had friends, but it's hard maintaining a relationship that's based on lies.

I found myself constantly lying to the few women I did meet.  I made up excuses, lies as I tried to explain to them why I would randomly miss our class.  I couldn't tell the truth, I couldn't tell them that my boyfriend pissed off some very dangerous people and that staying home was to ensure my safety.  I couldn't invite them over and I cautiously danced around the topic of my personal life.  It's safe to say that my friendships never last long.

The money, the mansions, the exotic cars, and the beautiful men can attract any naïve person to this lifestyle, but I'm starting to see just how lonely it truly is.

Nathaniel is the only person I've managed to become – and stay – friends with since my stint at UCLA.  We met on the first day of class in August, just two months ago.  Our teacher thought an introduction activity would loosen the nervous students up.  We were told to state our name and a fact about ourselves to the class.  He stood to his feet and introduced himself as, "Nathaniel, a bisexual disaster," and I knew from that moment on we'd be friends.

Our friendship is limited to school-only hours.  We don't share texts or phone calls, our only interactions come when we're on campus.  For nine-minutes every week for two months, between our walks from the parking lot to the classroom, I've learned quite a lot about my new friend.  He has a better relationship with his father than his mother.  His parents are rich, which explains his incredibly nice car and why he offers to buy me lunch on campus every time we see each other.  He's sensitive about his height, hates salads, and manages to make me laugh whenever he speaks.

I think his humor is what drew me to him. I find myself laughing more in his presence than at home.  Being in his company is a brief, much-needed distraction from all the death and sadness that's awaiting me when I return home.

I nibble on a single fry, my attention lingering on whatever can capture it.  At noon, the campus cafeteria is packed as students rush by, hoping to grab a snack on the go or sit down for lunch.  Obnoxiously loud laughter and hushed conversations nearly drown out my thoughts as I sit across from Nathaniel, averting my gaze between him and the medium sized café fries between us.

He adjusts the beanie on his head and uses his free hand to dip a fry in his chocolate milkshake.  I watch him as he watches others laugh and socialize with a smile on their faces.  This is the first time we've been together where there's been this long of a silence.  You can tell he's thinking.  His eyebrows are connected, and his index finger is tapping a gentle beat against our table.