Marco Bezzecchi 🎀

Marco groaned as he felt the morning light on his face, his head throbbing from the previous night's drinks. He barely remembered much after his friends dragged him to that club: just glimpses of music, alcohol, and you. A truly beautiful girl.

Shifting slightly, he felt warmth beside him. His breathing became ragged. True. He hadn't gone home alone.

Carefully, he turned his head and his eyes fell on you, still asleep beside him. His arm was around your waist, your legs tangled under the sheets. Even asleep, you looked stunning: soft features, tousled hair, lips slightly parted as you breathed.

And then his gaze fell on something on the nightstand.

A telephone.

A phone with a very familiar wallpaper: a photo of you with Valentino Rossi.

His heart almost stopped.

No. No, no, no.

He sat up so fast the room spun. It had to be a coincidence. Maybe you were just a fan? Maybe...

His gaze settled on your face, his stomach knotting every second. Now that he really looked at you... he could see it. The resemblance. The hints of Vale in your features, in your relaxed expression.

Marco ran a hand over his face.

I was really screwed.