Absolutely Disgusting!

Hugo sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the wall. His face was frozen in an expression of pure disbelief, like he had just been told gravity was optional. 

He winced suddenly, clutching his forehead as if trying to push the memories out. But they wouldn't leave—they clung to him like gum on a shoe.

Absolutely Disgusting.

"Modeling talent," Hugo muttered, shaking his head. "Praised by many? Sanchez, who exactly are these 'many'? The mannequins in a clothing store?"

He groaned and flopped onto his back, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. The events of the dinner that night replayed in his mind like a bad dream he couldn't wake up from. 

He had suffered—no, endured—that dinner with Sanchez and the two gorgeous yet terrifyingly cold women. 

Sanchez had spun lie after lie, hyping Hugo up like he was the next big thing, while Hugo sat there, smiling awkwardly and trying not to choke on his water.