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Paulo re-read the article sent to him by Federico, phone clutched in his hands.
He had been starting to feel a ray of hope, fueled by a sort of wishful thinking that the dark knights of gossip -reporters, as other people called them- will either end up a) getting tired of sniffing around, trying to find out the identity of Cristiano's "mystery male company" who was with him that night in the bar.. Or b) figure out it was him, but stick to their assumption of the two being out with girls. And nothing else.
... Until he got Federico's text, and that stupid 'ray of hope' he's been relying on was soon clouded.
Hypothetical scenario (a) was tragically shattered before his eyes: the gossip knights did not get tired of sniffing around; -God forbid- Cristiano's "mystery male company" was no longer anonymous, Except the name wasn't his, it was Federico's, and oh boy was that somehow even worse.
F• Can you explain to me why the fuck my name is mentioned here??? F• I know you can. Cause we both know whose name it should've been instead.
Paulo sighed, staring at the text messages he hasn't replied to, yet. Then he started typing...
P• If I was you I'd enjoy my very rare moment of fame, fratello.
F• Ha ha. Very funny. F• And pretty cocky for someone who hides behind other people's names. F• I know it was you that night out with Ronaldo.
P• So? What if I was
F• Did you have fun? Telling everyone there your name was Federico? Or giving my name to the press later? F• Whatever you did, that ain't cool bro. You know we don't have the same privileges. Going out for a drink before a big match F• That's not a nice look for me
P• 🤦🏽 P• If I'm too privileged to care as you say why would I bother giving out your name, smartass?
This seemed to hit the nail on the head as Federico stopped typing, for a few moments..
F• Whatever. Just make sure you do something about it. F• .. I ain't paying the price of your own fun, amico mio.
Paulo rolled his eyes, throwing the phone aside. Federico not seeming to know they were actually spending that night together -just the two of them- gave him just a bit of comfort, in the midst of all the headache..
.
- " ¿Todo bien? " (everything okay?)
Paulo realized he must've thrown the phone with enough force to earn Cris' attention,
- " Sí.. y no " He replied, " How much time til we land?"
- " I'd say 20 minutes.. Or less " The man glanced at his Rolex watch as he spoke before redirecting his questioning gaze at Paulo. The boy hauled himself to his feet. He sat on the armrest of Cris' couch, handing him his phone: - " There... The sequel . "
