Page 57 of The Substitute
Tobi: Are you a doctor?
Ambrose: I am not.
Ambrose: And what is he going to do to my eyes?
Tobi: He uses the big light for everything and doesn’t turn down the brightness on his phone. Ever. It’s a personal attack on my brain.
Ambrose: I’m sure I’ll be fine.
The bathroom door opens, and steam billows out ahead of a very naked Teddy. This probably would be alarming on most teams, but as Teddy likes to helicockter after a win, I’ve seen it all before.
“Didn’t you take clothes in there with you?” I uncover one ear so I can hear his response.
“Yeah, but I don’t like putting clothes over wet skin. I gotta air dry my balls first.”
“Then why take the clothes in with you?”
“So I know where they are. Duh.” He shrugs and tosses his phone to his bed, and Tobi was right—that thing is on full brightness.
I can’t tell what the picture on his screen is, but it’s green and blurry. I don’t want to know.
“Does your boyfriend care you are naked around other men?”
Teddy looks up, confused, which clearly isn’t hard to do. “No! He knows my disco stick is only for him.”
“Your—never mind. I don’t really need an explanation.” But then I can’t stop myself. “Do you really call it those things to him?”
“Fuck yes, I do. He loves it when I talk about my special cuddle snake.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “In fact, we are having text message sex right now.” He points at his phone.
I can only imagine what kind of horror show that is with the way Teddy texts, and thankfully, a group text comes through from Coach telling us it’s time to gather for dinner.
“Time to get dressed, bro,” I tell Teddy, who groans.
“I thought rooming with you would be fun.”
“I don’t know where you got that idea,” I deadpan and stand up. “I know you need to fill your body with more junk, so put your clothes on.”
With an exaggerated sigh, he goes to the bathroom and gets dressed.
“I’m so hungry.” He opens our door and rubs his stomach.
“Didn’t you just eat like half a dozen donuts?” I push the button for the elevator.
“Yeah, that was an app-o-tie-sardine. I’m still starving. That’s how that works.”
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
Thankfully, the elevator comes quickly.
But when we get in, I can’t hold back my question anymore.
“How’s your brother doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“With break, isn’t he at your parents’ house?”
“Yeah.” He looks confused, and now I’m confused too.
