Chapter 20: ’Red Flag?’

Third Person POV

Sprawled across the tangled sheets of the bed, completely dead to the world, were two shirtless men who looked like they’d been dragged out of a classic myth or a very expensive, sinful fever dream. Neither of them gave a single damn that the sun was already high in the sky, washing the bedroom in bright gold.

Fabio was flat on his stomach, his face buried deep into a feather pillow, while Marco lay sprawled half on top of him. They were both knocked out in a deep, post-exhaustion sleep that easily could have lasted well into the late afternoon. That was, until a high-pitched phone ringtone began blasting from the bedside table.

"Turn it off," Fabio grunted into the pillowcase, his voice thick with sleep and completely devoid of life. He didn’t even bother opening his eyes, opting instead to press his face deeper into the fabric to drown out the noise.

Marco let out a low, raspy groan of his own, shifting his weight just enough to blindly reach out across the nightstand. His fingers fumbled around until they finally clamped onto the vibrating phone which belonged to Fabio. He held it up to his face, his dark eyes squinting against the screen to read the caller ID.

"Who is... ’Red Flag’?" Marco asked, his voice rough and heavy with sleep.

Fabio groaned even harder at the name, a muffled string of curses escaping his mouth. "Ethan."

Instead of declining the call, Marco swiped his thumb across the screen and hit accept. He barely had the phone up to his head for a second before a voice exploded out of the speaker so loudly it echoed off the bedroom walls.

"Fabio, you absolute jerk! I’ve been calling you since last night! Where the hell are you?" Ethan’s panicked screaming was so intense that Marco instinctively yanked the handset a full six inches away from his ear, wincing at the noise.

"Uhm... it’s Marco," Marco said softly, a lazy, amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his tired state. "Fabio’s still asleep."

On the other end of the line, the frantic screeching instantly died out. Silence stretched over the call for three full seconds before Ethan let out an awkward, nervous laugh.

"You both are still... wait, never mind. Don’t tell me. Just wake him up. It’s urgent."

Marco pushed himself up slightly, his chest resting right beside Fabio’s shoulder as he leaned over him. With a wicked little grin, he brought the phone down and pressed it firmly against Fabio’s ear.

"What do you want?" Fabio growled, not bothering to hide his complete lack of interest.

"Alessia, where is she?" Ethan’s rushed, desperate voice blared into his ear. "I know you met up with her yesterday."

Fabio cracked one eye open lazily, trying to push his lower body up off the mattress, but Marco’s heavy frame on top of him didn’t budge an inch. Fabio gave up almost immediately, sinking back down into the bed with an irritated huff.

"How did you even... Whatever. She left," Fabio muttered. He tilted his head, trying to shake the phone off his ear, but Marco held it there relentlessly, enjoying the struggle.

"Left? Already?" Ethan’s tone instantly dropped, the panic giving way to disappointment. "Did she say something... about me? Anything at all?"

Fabio snorted softly. His eyes fluttered wide open now, gleaming with pure mischief. If there was one thing Fabio loved doing, it was poking a sore spot when a friend was acting pathetic.

"Why would she?" Fabio asked, his voice dripping with playful malice. "Though... she did mention she’s getting married to some guy very soon."

"What?!" Ethan shrieked so loudly the speaker distorted. "She’s... Please, bro. Help me find her. Just one last time."

Fabio rolled his eyes, a triumphant smirk spreading across his lips. "Didn’t you tell me last time that you’d finally moved on after she rejected you for the seventh time? Face it, man, there’s nothing you can do."

Without waiting for Ethan’s response, Fabio reached up, snatched the phone out of Marco’s hand, and hit the red button to end the call.

Now that his sleep had been thoroughly ruined, there was no way he was going to fall back asleep. The lingering moodiness of being woken up prematurely settled straight into his chest.

"I hate my friends sometimes," Fabio grunted, attempting to roll onto his side.

Unfortunately, Marco was still lying heavily across his lower back like a dead weight.

"Will you get off me?" Fabio demanded, shoving his elbow backward into Marco’s ribs. "I need to use the washroom."

Instead of moving out of the way, Marco let out a quiet, amused chuckle, threw his long leg completely over Fabio’s waist, and settled in even deeper, making himself as comfortable as humanly possible. Fabio let out a long sigh while pressing his palms against the bed to push himself up again, but Marco simply tightened his hold around his midsection, dragging him right back down. Within seconds, it turned into an absurd, silent wrestling match on top of the ruined bedsheets.

"I swear to God, I’m going to kick your balls, you asshole!" Fabio snapped, his fiery temper officially flaring up.

Marco didn’t look bothered in the slightest. He casually rubbed his cheek against the curve of Fabio’s bare shoulder, a thoroughly satisfied expression on his face, before finally uncurling his limbs and releasing him.

"You were practically cradling them with your life last night, and now you want to kick them? You’re so heartless, Fabio."

Fabio huffed loudly, yanking himself away from Marco’s reach. He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and stood up, intending to make an exit toward the washroom. The second his feet hit the floor and his full weight settled onto his legs, a sudden hiss escaped his teeth. His hand immediately flew to his backside, pressing against his ass right over his trousers as a jolt of soreness shot through his hips.

Marco, still lounging casually in the middle of the bed with his head propped up on his hand, didn’t miss a single detail. At the sound of Fabio’s sharp intake of air, a low chuckle rumbled in Marco’s chest.

"Is it that sore?" Marco asked, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Come back here. Let me put some balm on it for you."

Fabio spun his head around and shot Marco a look that could kill a lesser man, raised his hand high, and flashed him the middle finger. Without saying another word, he turned and disappeared into the washroom, slamming the door behind him.

Marco’s laughter echoed through the bedroom. He swung his own legs out of bed, grabbed a pair of pants off the floor, and strolled casually toward the washroom, fully intending to keep pushing Fabio’s buttons.

One thing Marco had known about Fabio from the very first day they met: the man was a terrible loser with an exceptionally short fuse. Teasing him until he lost his cool was Marco’s absolute favorite pastime, mainly because nothing made Fabio’s striking face look better than a flash of genuine, furious rage.