Loving Marcello

Chapter Thirty Eight

Neffex-Fight Back^^^
I first heard this when KarmaHeroFan (I believe) put it in their book and I'm literally obsessed with Neffex now. I can't stop listening to Trapped In A Nightmare either! You should check it out, they're amazing! Really inspirational too!

Back to the story...

Keep going....

Nothing to see here....

Keep going -_-

You have reached your destination...

Marcello's POV (after Brim left):

I watch Brimmy's retreating form cautiously, making sure does as told. That girl is as stubborn as it gets.

I sigh, turning back to the two men, both of which I was once close to.

"You came for Brimmy?" I ask, allowing my features to organize into the same emotionless mask I use for business.

"Yes." Brimmy's father, Jim, asks.

"That's a shame, because she's mine now. You can't take her." I respond nonchalantly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm calling your bluff. You can't have her. She's my daughter." He smirks in response, taking a threatening step forward.

"And she's my fiance. So she's my property now." I snap back quickly.

(Guys, Marcello has to act like a douche to get his point across. He's not engaged to Brim, and he doesn't genuinely think she's property, he's just saying that to get this idiot to back off).

"Then why didn't she have a ring on her finger? Huh?" Jim asks with a smirk, knowing he's right about that. I don't remember him being so quick to observe small things such as that.

"She's mine now, Jim. Stay away from her." I growl, my neutral facade slipping to reveal my anger.

"We'll see about that. Terry, rough this place up a bit." Jim's smirk widens, followed by Terry beginning to shred my couches with a pocket knife.

I don't know what they get out of tearing up easily replaceable furniture.

I roll my eyes at his petty behavior, waiting for them to finish wrecking my living room.

"Done yet?" I ask once Terry pauses.

"No." He grumbles, taking one big step towards Brimmy's favorite recliner. I clench my jaw, but refrain from taking action as he flips it over and slices the bottom, dragging his knife across the cloth. "Now I'm done."

I watch with a menacing gaze as they both exit my house through the broken door.

What was the point of doing that?

•••••

Brimmy's POV:

Marcello hustles around the kitchen, gathering peanut butter, bread, jelly, and bananas. I watch him whip up peanut butter, jelly, and banana sandwiches within the span of five minutes.

Smiling slightly, I fetch separate plates to put the masterpieces on, and we make our way back to the room. By the time Marcello opens the door, I'm practically drooling as I make googly eyes at the sandwich.

"Why can't you look at me like that?" Marcello's amused voice sounds, causing my head to shoot up in time to see the laughter in his eyes.

"Because you're a brat." I stick my tongue out at him, then tell him to be quiet so I can say a quick prayer before digging in.

As we devour our sandwiches, Marcello somehow manages to scarf his down quicker than me, and disappears into the bathroom attached to his room.

I follow his retreating form curiously with my eyes, but shrug, and continue my munching. After plucking a few stubborn slices of banana and repeatedly placing them back into the sandwich, I finish.

Wiping the crumbs off of my hands proves to be more difficult than I pegged it to be, and I realize it's of no use. The sticky peanut butter somehow layers my fingers, with a couple spots of jelly and banana here and there.

I knock on the slightly ajar bathroom door, "Marcello?"

No reply.

"Marcello, I need to wash my hands. Can I leave the room now?" I ask a bit louder.

The almost unnoticeable sound of running water halts, causing me to blush. He was taking a shower. Oops.

"Huh?" His voice echoes to me, followed by the shower door clicking open.

"Nevermind, I can wait." I say with a sigh, retreating from the door.

My body freezes when the door to the bathroom opens, revealing a very exposed Marcello. He leans causally against the frame, "I'm out anyway, might as well go in."

I open and close my mouth like an idiot, not able to find words. His drool-worthy abs has me absolutely mesmerized. My eyes can't stop themselves from lazily dragging over the planes of his body.

His face, broad shoulders, muscular chest, ripped abs...

I can't stop the pang of jealousy. Them abs are beautiful. I want me an eight pack like that.

I look to my own stomach, frowning. It's gotten flatter since I've gotten to Italy, but it's still not free of flab.

I don't care, it's an insignificant matter at the moment. Though I would like some abs, I actually admire my chubby stomach and thick thighs. I like it, to say the least. I take pride in my size 14 frame, even though I sometimes feel ashamed of my body.

I look back to Marcello, only to see a highly amused look on his face as he props an eyebrow up.

I shrug before he can even open his mouth to ask anything or make a comment, then shoulder my way past him and into the bathroom.

°•°●°•°●°•°●°•°●°•°●°•°

After relieving my bladder, I bounce back into the room, sighing comfortably at the fact that Marcello is fully dressed in sweatpants and a tee shirt. Though the sweatpants do look mouth wateringly good on him, it's easier to resist him when his skin is covered.

I hop onto the bed, followed by Marcello. After settling in, he clicks on the TV, opening a show I've never watched before, and puts subtitles on.

I tilt my head curiously, but shrug. I'm too tired to watch TV anyway, might as well get some sleep in. With that thought, I sink deeper into the bed, but stiffen when Marcello's arms wrap around my waist and pull me closer to him.

Despite still feeling a bit irritated with him, I find myself relaxing in his hold. Something about him is too comforting to resist, and my mind involuntarily goes foggy.

Staying in the spooning position, I drift closer to the edge of sleep, listening to Marcello's deep breaths.