Page 15 of The Substitute
“Not for a while.”
Tobi scans my body and shifts like he’s uncomfortable. “Do you ever wear clothes?”
“Not if I can help it. Clothes are the worst.” I know he’s deflecting, but I’m not giving up.
“So you wanted to get to know me while naked? Is that why you’re basically naked and sneaking around?” His cheeks turn just the smallest bit pink, and I can’t hold back my smirk.
“I mean…I wouldn’t say no, but that wasn’t my plan.” I drag my eyes down his body, remembering the feeling of holding the broken pieces of him together that night. It’s a cold slap in the face. “How are you? Really?”
He tenses and almost glares at me. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you care.”
I move closer to him, aching to pull him into a hug, but he steps back, so I stop. “I do care. Probably more than I should.”
Tobi shakes his head like he doesn’t believe me.
“I know what it’s like to be in that headspace where it feels like nothing is ever going to get better, everyone is better off without you, and you feel like you’re ruining everything?—”
Tobi rushes forward and slaps a hand over my mouth. “Shut up. Just shut up. I can’t take it.” He’s breathing hard, and a mixture of emotions plays merry-go-round on his face. His hair has fallen into his eyes, and without thinking about it, I brush it out of his eyes.
Fuck, I just want to wrap him up in my arms and give him some comfort.
“You don’t know anything about me, so just leave me alone.” His voice has a breathy quality to it this time. He pushes his hand against me and turns, but I spin him around to face me before he makes it very far.
“I want to know you.” The words feel flat, so I try again: “I felt it that night, and I know you did too.”
“What?”
“On the bridge. I know you felt something.”
He breaks our eye contact. “None of it matters.”
“Are you hungry? I can make you something?”
“No.” Exhaustion has deepened the circles under his eyes. I want to make him lie down with me and sleep. Warm and safe in my bed after I feed him.
“You sure?” I hate that he’s not eating.
His shoulders sag like he doesn’t have the energy to keep them up anymore, while his head falls forward.
“You should sleep,” I say softly.
“All I do is sleep.” His words are almost inaudible.
I want to ask him when the last time someone hugged him or just touched him was. People need physical touch, but so many people self-isolate when they’re upset or going through something. It makes everything harder.
Slowly, I lift my arms and encircle him in my embrace. He’s stiff at first and doesn’t hug me back when he says, “What are you doing?”
“Hugging you. If you don’t know a hug when you feel one, I have some serious questions about your upbringing.”
Tobi lifts his hands and drops them a few times before he wraps his arms around my waist, splaying his hands on my back, and pulling me against him. I smile into his hair and tighten my arms around him.
For long moments, we just stand there, and I pretend not to hear him sniffling.
“Is the sports ball you play hockey?” His question catches me off guard.
