Page 143 of The Substitute
I have no idea what is happening right now, and I am so far out of my element, I might as well be on Mars.
Why the hell am I here?
The music is too loud and grating on my nerves, the bodies are packed in like sardines, and the smell of too much cologne, beer, and perfume are giving me a headache.
Reaching for my phone, I text Ambrose.
Tobi: I’m heading back to the dorm.
Ambrose: What? Why?
Tobi: There’s a lot going on in here. Thank you for inviting me.
Ambrose: We didn’t get to hang out.
Tobi: I guess you’ll have to make it up to me then.
Ambrose: Oh? I’m sure I can handle that. I won’t be much longer.
Tobi: You better not be.
Pushing through the doors of the bar, I suck in a lungful of air, ready to let my shoulders drop and close my eyes for a second to clear my head.
But I feel it. Someone watching me. Looking up, my heart jack knifes when Savage is there. There’s a crowd of people surrounding him, and at least two are attempting to flirt with him, all while he’s looking hot as sin.
And now directly at me.
Panic sets in as hurt washes over me. How do I face him? Do I ignore him? Go talk to him? I miss him so much, but I don’t know how to trust him.
He’s watching me. Only me.
Afraid of falling apart in public, I start walking as he extricates himself from the group and catches up with me. “Hi.”
“Did you know I would be here?”
“Rhys said you might be, so I didn’t go in.” He falls in step beside me, and it feels like an open wound.
“So you were just going to stand outside all night?”
“No. I’d texted Lovelace to see where he’s gone since Rhys and a couple of the other guys want to be here.” He opens up his phone to show me the texts, but I wave him off.
“I don’t need to see.”
“I wasn’t trying to stalk you.”
“I believe you.” But I half wish he was.
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” I glance back to see if the people who were flirting with him are watching us. They are. “You going to go home with one of them?”
Shock and then disgust washes over his features. “Fuck no. No one is touching me but you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that. I don’t know how I’m going to feel.”
He reaches for my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Then I’ll just have to wait.”
“You’re not going to do that.” A hint of warmth spreads in my chest. I shouldn’t like that he’s waiting, but I do.
