The Substitute (The Bros Series Book 1)

by Xavier Neal

  “Die Hard is not a Christmas movie,” she argues, pushing her plate to the opposite side of the bar.

  “We watch it every year at Christmas.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me and my bros.” A small smile crawls to her lips, which is when I thoughtlessly add, “Who knows. Maybe this year you’ll be around to watch it with us…” The smile expands and I try not to dwell on the craziness of the comment. “Anyway, the movie happens during the Christmas season. That by definition makes it a Christmas movie.”

  “It does not!” Her squeak makes me chuckle. “So, if Halloween happened at Christmas, you would call it a Christmas movie?”

  I nod. “Yeah, by basic rules, but if it was a movie called Halloween that took place at Christmas, I would have bigger problems than just the title. There’s only one movie that comes to mind that can appropriately mesh those two holidays.”

  “The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

  Pushing my half-eaten meal beside hers, I grin widely. “Exactly.”

  Ainsley leans back into the bar chair and extends her feet to rest in my lap. “Fav movie of all time?”

  “Easy.” I begin to massage her foot. “Casablanca.”

  “No…” She whispers. “Shut up! No way! That’s my favorite movie of all time!”

  I give her a sarcastic look.

  “Seriously! I’ve got a poster that hangs above my bed. I have one of those hats that Ingrid Bergman wore, which I got at a thrift shop around the corner from work, and I even dressed up as her for Halloween when I was sixteen. For the record, white gloves are never a good idea.”

  After a small chuckle, I shake my head. “I can’t imagine they are.”

  “I swear I watch that movie probably every other week.” She pauses in what appears to be reflection. “You know, you remind me of Humphrey’s character Rick.”

  My eyebrows fall in befuddlement. “How’s that?”

  “He appeared to be cold, callous, and so broken on the outside, but there were so many moments, so many opportunities he took that showed the world it was a façade. That he was really the most amazing, kindest, thoughtful man you could imagine. That even though he couldn’t have his own happiness he still wanted others to have theirs.”

  Her words hit harder than expected. Rather than dwell in the truth of her statement, I say in my best Humphrey voice, “Here’s looking at you kid.”

  She swoons in delight. “So romantic….It’s weird, but I think kid is sweeter than babe or honey or sweetie. Not during sex or anything because that would be creepy, but a little, ‘make sure you text me kid’ would make my heart skip a beat. I mean, come on! Is there any other word in the English language that can instill so many emotions connected to the greatest film of all time?!”

  I smirk at the word vomit she just let spill over.

  “I’m rambling…” Her hand flies to her mouth and she giggles behind it.

  “It’s cute.” Before she can deny it, I suggest, “Why don’t we put it on while I finish grading papers? Spend a little more time together before you head home?”

  Ainsley sweetly leans my direction. “I’d love that.”

  Three words I’d do anything to hear.

  My mouth gently presses against hers and the light touch of our tongues reignites the foreign feeling in my chest.

  I don’t know what the hell that is, but I’m not convinced I actually want it to go away.

  Ainsley

  I’ve come to realize over the past two weeks I’ve spent the majority of my life under appreciating sleep. Between homework, working, and spending time with Nate on the nights I manage to convince Sloane to stay home rather than hang out at work with me, I haven’t exactly slept much. Typically I’ll pass out for an hour or two after sex, which creates an inability to do anything else, and then have to be woken to be walked to the bus station to catch a one or two a.m. bus back home. Is it easy? No. Do I wish I could just crash at Nate’s every night? Of course. But the very fact we’ve managed to find an arrangement that allows this to happen is amazing and any slightly annoying repercussions pales in comparison to how magnificent our relationship is. And it is a relationship. At least…I think it is.

  “Ainsley,” my mother’s voice snips shooting me straight up off the couch.

  “I’m up. I’m up,” I announce on a yawn.

  She pauses her body directly between me and the rom com I had been watching. What can I say? The more time I spend with Nate, the more I feel like one of those goofy giggly girls in the movies. They totally get me right now.

  When she doesn’t say anything, I lean back against the lumpy couch. “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “Because I want your full attention on me,” my mother begins, arms folded across her chest.

  From her skin tight, one shoulder red cocktail dress and pinned up hair, it’s safe to assume she’s headed to work. My guess would be some sort of politician’s event. Something where the wife will be present but he’ll want to stare at his special secret all night long. She says she has many clients who enjoy the thrill of seeing the woman they’re sleeping with in the same room as the woman they go home to. Adds danger. Gets their blood pumping. Despite my disgust at hearing such things, it’s never stopped her from telling me them. She says they’re important to remember for when I get the hell out of the house and into the ‘real world’. She’s spent a significant portion of my life giving me ‘Whore Hacks’ and an informative how to guide on how to avoid ending up an escort with an expensive drug addiction.

  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the changes in your behavior.”

  I’m surprised, but I keep it to myself.

  “All these random naps you keep taking. How you’re almost late for school every morning. How the laundry isn’t getting done. The fact the kitchen hasn’t been stocked in almost a week. Oh! And let’s not forget how you didn’t pay the water bill and they cut it off!”

  Sheepishly, I argue, “I got it turned back on.”

  “Yeah! After I had to shower at work! There aren’t many luxuries in life I ask for, but showering at home is one I expect.”

  Then maybe she should pay the bill every once in a while…

  “I know what you’re doing Ainsley Elizabeth Jacobson.”

  “Sitting here?” I snidely question.

  “Lose the attitude.”

  My lips shut tightly.

  “You’re not slick. You’re not hiding well at all. And you need to knock that shit off right now, because it’s exactly how your father and I got you.”

  The disdain in her tone is unmistakable.

  “Don’t be a fucking idiot,” she scolds. “Don’t get so caught up in dick that you throw away your future. That you throw away your real shot at something. Dick comes and goes, usually with little to no warning. A career, a real career where you can buy your own nice house and car, well that shit requires sacrifice, so I suggest you learn it now and get a grip on your priorities.”

  Dating Nate hasn’t had any effect on my grades, which is all that should really matter. I’m still turning everything in on time, passing with better grades than people expect. I still complete the extracurricular activities that will look great on my transcript, like lending a hand to the middle school drama department during some of my lunch periods. Maybe the housework has suffered a bit. Maybe I’ve neglected loads of laundry and barely touched cleaning the kitchen. And…yeah… maybe I did pay the water and the cell phone bill late, but I shouldn’t be the only one doing all those things! All responsibilities outside of clothes shopping shouldn’t always fall on me!

  All of a sudden she tosses an envelope at me. “I’m not coming home tonight, so try not to sleep through your alarm.”

  I watch in silence as she struts out of the living room for the front door.

  The minute it slams shut I try to swallow the tears attempting to make themselves known. I didn’t ask to be born. I
didn’t ask to ruin her life. God, I can’t wait to get the hell out of here and never look back.

  I grab the envelope and try to force a smile at the sight of Ashwin University’s emblem. With a sniffle, I tear it open, and read it carefully. An overwhelming sense of relief falls on my shoulders as I read the words full scholarship. While the letter is a formality, a package of information to fill out and be mailed back before May should be following within a week. I start to smile wide in excitement, but almost immediately realize there’s no one here to celebrate with me. There’s no one here to tell me how proud they are or how well deserved this is. My father’s dead. My mother only cares I get out of the house and pay the bills until that very day. And let’s not forget my best friend who tries to hide her frustration over the idea of us no longer talking when we don’t go to the same school anymore.

  Sadness settles inside of me and I reach out for my cell. After a quick swipe and push of a button, the phone begins to ring, while I bat away the persistent tears.

  “You’re an asshole,” Nate’s voice says to someone in the background. There’s a small pause before he says into the phone, “Hey Kid.”

  The adorable nickname causes me to choke on the tears in the pursuit of trying to chuckle. “Hey, Teach.”

  He quickly tells whoever he’s with to shut up and asks, “You okay?”

  I sniffle again. “Yeah…I’m…I’m fine.”

  Another moment of silence occurs, but this time he follows it with a hardened voice. “You’re not. And I don’t appreciate being lied to. Now, what’s wrong?”

  The disappointment in his tone adds to the one already twirling inside of me. Unable to keep it in any more, I break down in a soft sob, “I’m just upset and wanted to hear your voice that’s all.”

  Nate immediately replies, “Why are you upset?”

  Just as I begin to answer a male in the background shouts, “I’m gonna be upset too if you let this lobster risotto get cold.”

  “Fuck, Wyatt. Give me a minute,” he insists.

  Touched he’d put his world on hold for me, but not actually selfish enough to have him do it, I rush to say, “Go, Nate. It’s okay. Really. Go have dinner with your bro. I know you haven’t seen him in a few weeks. Go. Have a good time. Hell, have a great time and just call me when you get back to your place.”

  “Are you going to be home later?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yeah, Sloane and Scott are going to some concert for a band that makes me wish I didn’t have ears.”

  “Good. I’ll swing by when I’m done.”

  Taken back by his statement, I argue, “It’s okay. You don’t have to do that.”

  “I wasn’t asking permission.”

  My mouth cracks open to further my objection when he continues.

  “I’ll park around the corner and wear a hat so no one can recognize me.”

  “But-”

  “You sound like you need me, Ainsley. I’ll be there. Just give me an hour-”

  “Two!” Wyatt yells.

  “Fuck. Two,” Nate grunts the correction. “Okay?”

  Wanting him to hold me while relishing in my good news and reminding me what a bitch my mother is, I quietly agree into the phone. “Okay.”

  He sweetly says, “I’ll see you soon Kid.”

  I try to smile. “See you soon, Teach.”

  The call ends and I give our messy living room a glance. A loud grumble escapes the second it hits me that my mother is completely right. This entire place looks awful. Knowing I don’t want the first guy I invite over to see my house in its natural state of disaster, I make haste to at least tidy up what I can.

  About two and half hours later the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house. I quickly hop off the couch and give my lounge shorts and tank top another glance, silently trying to reassure myself I actually do look okay not all made up like my mother constantly insists.

  Without bothering to check the peephole, I crack the door open to see Nate with his head down, and a black baseball cap successfully covering his face. His long black coat is also doing a fantastic job of shielding his body from giving away his shape. I usher him in and the moment the door is closed his lips descend mine. Our kiss is brief, but powerful enough to know he’s missed me as much as I’ve missed him.

  As he follows me into the living room, he lifts the contents in his hands, showing me a brown paper bag. “Leftovers courtesy of Wyatt. He guessed you hadn’t eaten dinner yet then assumed even if you had his cooking was far superior to anything you could’ve had.” Nate places the bag on the kitchen table just left of the living room television. “He’s kind of arrogant about food.”

  “You mean like you and films?” I tease.

  “I’m not arrogant. I’m opinionated.” Nate pulls the hat off his head and tosses it to the side of the table before he ditches his coat. After he drapes it on the back of the chair closest to him, he prepares to unload the items from the bag. “It’s not my fault you have the wrong opinion most of the time.”

  His retort makes me snicker at the same time I sit down in the wooden chair across from the one he’s standing beside. “Aren’t you a teacher? Shouldn’t you know the definition of the word opinion?”

  Nate winks and lifts a foil container out. “Are you actually hungry? If not I’ll just put this shit in the fridge.”

  Slightly embarrassed, I quietly confess, “I um…I haven’t eaten today.”

  Immediately, he frowns. “Why not?”

  I shrug. “Just…haven’t. I mean I got in late from your place last night, almost missed the bus this morning, so there wasn’t time then. At lunch, I only grabbed an ice coffee because I knew I needed money for groceries, but by the time I actually got home from school I was so tired, I fell asleep on the couch and never got around to going to the store.”

  His glower deepens and he slowly questions, “What do you mean you needed money for groceries? Doesn’t your mother pay for groceries?”

  My eyes fall to the ground, despising the idea of looking into his while admitting the horrors I attempt to keep hidden. “She helps….occasionally.” I shift in my seat and lower my voice to just above a whisper. “I…I take care of myself most of the time. She makes great money, but wastes it all on paying off old debts, designer clothes, and her cocaine addiction. I’ve been working since I was fifteen trying to help make sure the lights and water stay on and that I stayed fed. Usually, I eat for free when I’m waitressing, but since I didn’t go in tonight I-”

  “Ainsley,” Nate’s voice interrupts. When I don’t lift my head, he demands it. “Look at me.”

  I don’t.

  “Now.”

  His harshness dredges up the tears from earlier.

  He tries again, the composure in his voice shaking. “Please…”

  A tear falls and he tips my chin up to meet his gaze.

  The sound of a broken breath leaving him encourages the crying to begin. Nate swiftly sweeps me up onto my feet and into his arms. My body shakes as I sob uncontrollably, the resentment in my mother’s earlier words reverberating in my head alongside the disgusting truth I’d kept buried from everyone. Even Sloane. She may be my best friend, she may know many secrets, but she doesn’t know them all. I’ve never wanted anyone else to have knowledge of my shame and the fact the guy I’m crazy about now knows, makes me want to cry harder. We’re talking, curl up in a ball of embarrassment and die.

  His arms tightly flex around me, cradling me close to his chest. It only takes a moment, but the feeling of security I get any time he holds me begins to appear. While humiliation is still humming through me, comfort is ceaselessly chasing after it, vanishing it from my system.

  As soon as my tears stop, I glance up at Nate who tries to offer me a sweet smile. “Feel better?”

  I sniffle. “I feel like a drama queen…”

  “No….Crying because you’
re basically starving isn’t being overdramatic, Ainsley. Does anyone else know that you’re this responsible for yourself?”

  I shake my head quickly. “Sloane knows my mom’s a bit of a flake and that our house probably doesn’t have food and is a complete wreck, but she doesn’t know what I just told you. No one does.”