Page 141 of The Substitute
Do I want to spend time with Ambrose outside of our dorm room? Yes. Do I want to see a bunch of puck bunnies flirting with him, throwing themselves at him, and probably shoving their tits on him? Absolutely not. But with everything that’s going on, I just want to be near him, and I hate myself for the weakness.
I don’t know what’s worse. Knowing he’s out here and people are throwing themselves at him or being here and seeing it’s probably not as bad as I think? Sitting in the dorm thinking about it drives me to the brink of madness when I don’t have a distraction, though.
I want all his attention. It’s stupid and immature, and I hate that I crave it, but right now, I do.
Life has taught me I’m not safe, and right now, my nervous system is screaming at me that I’m in danger. It has been for a while, and I can’t seem to get it calm.
“Hey,” a soft breath caresses my ear, and I jump. Spinning around, I find Ambrose smirking at me. Finally, I can breathe.
He drags his eyes over me and purses his lips at the number on my jersey. One.
“Don’t you dislike your brother?”
“He’s growing on me, kinda,” I sigh. “And I figured this was less conspicuous.” I look away from him and shove my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching for him.
“I can’t believe you’re wearing his jersey.”
I half-laugh. “I can’t wear yours.”
“No, but I’m going to fuck you while you wear my jersey.” Ambrose’s tone has me fighting a smile. There’s a possessiveness to it that makes my insides buzz. God, I love it when he lets that out. When he claims me.
I want to melt, to touch him, but I don’t. I can’t. Not here.
“You’ll have to earn it.” I raise an eyebrow at him, and a full-fledged smile transforms his face.
“Are you challenging me?”
“Maybe.” I cross my arms and hold my ground.
“Oh, roomie, I don’t think you know what you’ve just done.”
I shrug as the blush heats my cheeks.
“Come on. Let’s go before all the blood in my brain heads south.”
I snort and follow him in.
The bar is loud and full of hockey players, puck bunnies, and drunk hockey fans. Oh goodie.
We’ve barely stepped through the door when some girl has her tits against him and dude bros are calling his name. Jesus. How does anyone deal with this? It’s so overstimulating.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Ambrose says to Teddy.
“Broseph!” Teddy yells, making a beeline for me, and I groan. Drunk Teddy is so much worse than sober Teddy. “Are you okay?” I’m confused and about to say something when he goes on, “A cat got you? It’s a little known fact there are big cats hiding in the city!”
“No,” Ambrose tries to cut in, but Teddy goes on.
“I’ve heard of numerous attacks on the forums I follow.”
“Are you on conspiracy theory forums?!” I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t stop myself.
“Obviously. It’s where all the good stuff is. Rhys told me to stop going on them and tried to block the websites, but he just doesn’t know what conspiracy is code for.”
Does this mean Rhys is here, too? If Rhys is here, is Savage? They’re supposed to be out of town tonight, but with an earlier game, they had time to get back by now. But would Savage think to look for me here? Ugh. I don’t know anymore.
“What do you think conspiracy theory means?” Ambrose asks suspiciously.
“It’s code for top secret stuff the government doesn’t want you to know!” Teddy hooks his arm around my neck and pulls me away from Ambrose while he gets swallowed by the crowd. My brother is talking, but I can’t understand half of it—something about cheese and ham in the bathroom.
