Page 10 of Dustin
“What?” Dustin asks.
“I said it’s our room. The agency decided we should stay together for the period of the mission, so they booked two hotel rooms for us,” I informed him.
His eyes narrow at that. “Okay….so go stay in your own room. Why are you in mine?”
I sigh. “Because apparently there was a mix-up of some sort. They gave us a suite instead of two rooms.”
“You have your own house. Go stay there,” he states.
“I can’t. My house is too far away. It will be easier if we’re close to each other. I live way out of the city.”
I’m lying, but he doesn’t need to know this.
He stares at me for a long moment, and for a second, I think he’s going to call me up on my bullshit.
“Fine, I’ll get another room for myself,” he finally says.
I inwardly sigh.
“The hotel is completely booked. There aren't any rooms available.”
Dustin rubs his face with his hands. He’s silent for so long, and I continue to wait for him to blow up and yell at me.
“I am not okay with this.”
I smile. That sounded like an okay to me.
“I’ll take the couch,” I tell him.
“No. I’ll take the couch. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to sleep.”
He walks past me towards the pull-out couch, and after grabbing some blankets and a pillow, he lies down on it. He quickly calls Sam, telling him I’m okay before closing his eyes.
“Dustin?” I call out tentatively.
“Hm?” he replies.
“I’m sorry for worrying you.”
I’m really not. I think about how he hugged me in the hotel lobby and realize something. There’s still a part of Dustin Rowell that cares about me.
He doesn’t say anything else, and I’m guessing he fell asleep. I groan softly as I pack all my clothes back into my suitcase. The clothes had burst out of my suitcase earlier today when I opened it, which explains the mess. After cleaning up, I fall onto the bed and fall asleep almost immediately.
Annoyingly, I dream of a certain blue-eyed man that’s sleeping not too far from me.
I woke up really early the following day. I check the time. It’s only 4 am. I’m probably awake this early because my body’s getting used to the time difference again. I head for the bathroom to clean up, and when I return to the room, I finally allow myself to look at him.
I step closer until I’m standing over the couch, watching him like a stalker. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he looks like he’s in a deep sleep or having a bad dream. Before I can think twice about it, I bring my hand closer to his face to smooth it out.
Lightning fast, Dustin’s hand shoots out and holds my wrist in place just before my hand lands on his face. His eyes fly open, surprising me.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice husky from sleep.
“Uh…I was just thinking about how uncomfortable you look on the couch. You can join me in the bed,” I propose.
“No,” he states without hesitation.
“Dustin…it’s fine.”
