Page 9 of Dustin
Dustin takes a deep breath.
“Madison, upstairs now,” he says.
I look around for anyone else that he could be talking to.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You heard me. We’re going upstairs to my room right now.”
“You cannot be talking to me that way. I don’t know what-”
He steps closer until he’s in my personal space and says his next words slowly.
“I’m practically hanging by a thread right now, Madison. Do not make me snap,” he threatens.
My eyes narrow, but just before I speak, I take in his stance and the look in his eyes. He must have been genuinely worried. It’s better not to push him.
“Fine. But don’t order me around ever again,” I tell him.
I turn to Fabio. He’s one of the closest friends I’ve made in Portugal. He’s an international model based in Portugal. That’s how we met, through the fashion world. He regularly models clothes from my line.
“I’ll see you later,” I tell him.
Fabio’s green eyes flicker to Dustin.
“Are you sure? He seems a little intense,” he states.
I nod. “I’m sure. It’s okay.”
Dustin would never harm me.
Fabio leaves, albeit reluctantly, and I follow Dustin up to the hotel room.
“Why is your phone off?” he asks first.
I grab my phone out of my purse and wave it in the air.
“Because it’s dead.”
“And you didn’t think to charge it?”
His voice is back to being calm. I don’t know if he’s angry or tired or anything right now. His expression changes are infuriating.
“I forgot,” I tell him, biting my bottom lip.
In hindsight, that was probably a mistake. Going to the restaurant with Fabio was also a mistake. But we bumped into each other in the hotel lobby, we got to talking and he convinced me to go out with him. According to him, we haven't had dinner together in a while. And he did have a point. I had missed him. I finally agreed, and after checking in and leaving all my stuff in the room, we headed over to a restaurant close to the hotel. Fabio and I are not romantically involved, just really close friends.
“Stop doing that,” Dustin says sharply.
I’m momentarily confused before I realize he’s talking about the lip-biting thing. Memories of numerous other times when he has scolded me like that appear in my line of vision. I force them back and look at Dustin.
“I’m sorry, okay? It won’t happen again.”
He nods.
“Good. Now can you explain why all your shit is scattered all over my room?”
“Actually…” I start. He’s going to react so badly to this. “It’s our room.”
