The Substitute (The Bros Series Book 1)

by Xavier Neal

  Ainsley cups her mouth again and rushes the direction he announced.

  “She seems dramatic,” he carelessly grumbles.

  “She’s not the only one fucking sick to her stomach,” I snap, grabbing his attention. “Tell me this is the first time this has happened.”

  He shoves his hands into his pocket and sighs deeply. “Do you want me to lie and tell you what you want to hear or do you want the truth?”

  The counter twists my gut tighter. “How could you do this to mom?”

  “You’re overreacting.”

  “I am not!”

  “You are. And you need to keep your voice down,” he repeats this time sharper than before. “This is an elite establishment with high end clientele. If you would like to continue this conversation, I suggest we do it outside or over dinner next door.”

  Completely befuddled by his casualness, I drop my jaw in speechlessness.

  “Nathaniel, I am not the only man here who conducts that type of business.” He implies with a lift of the eyebrows. “Discrepancy is what they do best here, so I repeat, this conversation cannot be had at this moment.”

  I swallow the dagger of rage in my throat. “We’re not fucking having dinner. I’m not going to sit across from you while you try to justify cheating on my mother.”

  “It is not your marriage to be concerned about.”

  “I’m your son!” I bark. “How the hell could I not be concerned?”

  “Nathaniel…”

  “Gentlemen,” the woman behind the desk quietly speaks up. “If you could kindly keep it down, that would be remarkable. If you need a private area to speak in, it can be provided for you since you are a guest at the hotel.”

  My father lifts his hands. “Sorry, Sandra. We were just leaving for dinner.”

  She gives us a curt nod and returns to staring at the front doors.

  “I’m not having dinner with you,” I growl fiercely. “I’m taking my girlfriend and going the fuck home.”

  “Nathaniel-”

  “And you…Mr. High and Mighty, Mr. The Law In This Country Fucking Matters, you need to go home and tell mom who you’ve really been with these last few weeks.”

  “I will do no such thing.”

  “Then you can explain to her why I refuse to come by the house until you do.”

  The sight of Ainsley’s pale face approaching pangs my chest. Fuck. It’s not enough he’s fucking cheating on my mother but of all the women in the entire goddamn city he chooses the one that makes this hurt even more?

  “I wanna go home,” her quiet voice quivers, eyes on the ground.

  “Of course,” I agree. “We’ll go straight home.”

  “No,” she argues. “I wanna go to my place. I need….space.”

  My hand reaches over to lift her chin up. “You sure?”

  Tears prick the corners of her eyes and she silently nods.

  Reluctantly, I reply, “Okay.”

  My hand falls and I usher her to head back the direction we came.

  “Nathaniel-”

  “Goodnight father,” I grumble under my breath, not bothering to give him another look.

  When I imagined this night could end in disaster this isn’t at all what I had in mind.

  Ainsley

  Most people I know think a bad night is finding out their favorite show isn’t premiering a new episode like they hoped or struggling to find something to eat on their newest fad diet. If only they really knew what it was like to have a bad night. To see your mother leaving a hotel elevator with your boyfriend’s father. To know her choice in career has moved past fucking up a fraction of your life to fucking with everything. After witnessing her exit, I couldn’t stomach being around Nate. It felt like a weird incest situation even though logically I know it’s not. Just because my mother is sleeping with his father doesn’t suddenly make us related. Still. The creepiness of it caused me to want to cry myself to sleep alone. In my own bed. I knew she wouldn’t be home until sometime after I was at school. When her eyes met mine there was a striking amount of horror in them. She was embarrassed. I was mortified. To add insult to injury, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking in my fit of tears, is Nate’s father the man she was referencing about screwing before he went home to dinner with his wife? Was she referencing herself as the one never being good enough for him to leave her for? Those thoughts alongside so many others I shouldn’t have toyed with caused for a sleepless night.

  “You look rough,” Sloane mutters as I flop down in the bus seat beside her.

  “I had a shitty night,” I sigh deeply. She opens her mouth to ask about it and I quickly deny, “And no. I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

  “Does it have to do with-”

  “At. All.”

  Her eyebrows shoot in the air. “Fuck, okay. Sorry.”

  Slinking further down in the seat, I close my eyes and try to drown out the swarming sounds of the crowd. The only reason I’m going to school today is because of the two tests I’ve been cramming for. Trying to figure out a way to make them up would cause unnecessary chaos and skipping them completely would have a severe effect on my grades, which I’ve managed to keep steady my entire academic span. My mother may have successfully put a bump in my relationship, but she won’t in my chances of getting the fuck away from her and keeping my scholarship to Ashwin.

  On our way down the hall, Scott and Sloane casually question me about my film project they helped star in. In no mood to discuss it or anything else for that matter, I try to answer their questions in as few words as possible.

  Unfortunately for me, the moment they surrender to bothering me, Josh steps up to the plate. “Hey Ainsley.”

  I don’t bother hiding my sigh. “Hi Josh.”

  My friends split, but he continues walking beside me. “You look…upset. You okay?”

  I slip my phone into the mesh pocket of my bag and grab the half empty bottle of orange juice I’ve been nursing from the drink holder. “Rough night.”

  “Is that why you stopped texting me back last night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Wanna talk about it at lunch? I can take us to grab something.”

  “No.”

  “After school? Mimi’s?”

  Stopping outside my classroom, I sharply turn to face him. “No, Josh. I don’t want to talk about it. Period.”

  He offers me a sympathetic nod of understanding at the same time Nate rounds the corner. His eyes narrow in on Josh but just for a brief moment. As he prepares to stroll into our classroom, he stops and greets me, “Miss Jacobson.”

  I smile at the sweetness he’s trying to offer behind his stare. Even knowing the danger of letting his glance linger too long, he’s attempting to put me first. To be there for me. Last night wasn’t good for either of us. Finding out your father’s having an affair, can’t be an easy thing at any age. He probably needed my support and I selfishly hid in silence because of my shame. I told him not to bother texting me or calling. Asked him to just let me have the solitude. And he did. However, tonight will be different. Tonight, I’ll be there for him. Tonight, we’ll stomp through the awkwardness of what we witnessed and figure out how to move forward. Together.

  “Mr. Greene.”

  Nate gently touches the arm of my juice hand and I melt, all my attention devoted to him. “You alright? You look…troubled.”

  His action of concern, of blatantly marking his territory without having to state it, causes me to smile. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Greene. Thanks for caring.”

  He gives me a small hum, my arm a squeeze, and says, “Of course I care. You’re one of my students.”

  Josh grumbles something, but it doesn’t break our locked stare. It isn’t until he bumps into my bag that I even realize he’s actually still there.

  Nate hides the grin beginning to grow and announces, “I’l
l see you in class.”

  I nod and turn back to Josh who has an unhappy expression.

  He shoves his hands into his letterman jacket. “You seem close.”

  I do my best to give an innocent shrug. “He’s just my teacher.”

  He nods but is clearly unconvinced. Thankfully the warning bell rings and I’m freed from what I can only assume was about to become an interrogation. “I gotta to get class.”

  “Yeah,” Josh barely replies backing up slowly. “Me too…”

  Nate nods his head at the bottle in my hand. “Only water during my class, Miss Jacobson.”

  “Right,” I mumble and begin the process of putting it back in my bag.

  The final bell rings only seconds after Beth crosses the threshold.

  “You were almost late Miss Winston,” Nate comments from where he’s braced against the front of his desk. “Unusual behavior.”

  “Terrible night,” she dramatically whines and slips into her desk in front of me. “Late start…”

  Terrible night? Ha. If only she knew what we went through…

  He offers her a strained smile. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Thanks…” She coos. “You’re the best.”

  He is but she doesn’t have to speak so brazenly to him like that.

  Unsure if I’m being paranoid, cranky, or rightfully assessing Bethany’s behavior, I divert my attention to grabbing my cell phone, so I can apologize to Sloane for being extra bitchy this morning. She didn’t deserve it. And while I have no intention on telling her why I was as upset as I was, I can at the very least give her the sorry text she’s earned.

  Quietly, I search my bag on my desk, unsure of where my phone is. Certain it was in the open mesh compartment, I try not to panic and simply search the other areas. When it’s obvious the disappearance isn’t just misplacement, dread drags its way up the back of my throat. Where the hell could it have gone? Did I drop it? Is it in the halls? Did I even have it in the building?

  With the inability to recall the last place I actually remember having it whirling around my mind, I shift my hand into the air, split seconds after Nate concludes his introduction to Toy Story and his praising of its animation.

  “Yes, Miss Jacobson?”

  “Totally off subject,” I immediately announce, “but I’ve lost my phone. Just wondering if anyone picked one up in the hallway?” Quickly, insisting on how to tie this into the conversation he is giving as opposed to just an obnoxious interruption, I add, “I prefer to make certain notes on my phone, so I don’t have to drag my laptop out.”

  “Which is why you should have a tablet too,” Beth sneers from in front of me.

  Nate nods at my cover. “Did anyone find a phone in the hallway?” The collective sound of no increases the panic in my system though my boyfriend remains strikingly calm. “Sorry, Miss Jacobson. If anyone turns in a phone they found outside this classroom, I’ll be sure to send it to the office and let them know yours has been misplaced.”

  “Thank you.”

  I watch his Adam’s apple bob revealing his anxiety.

  He starts the movie and I slide down into my seat, brain barreling around a multitude of possibilities. Maybe I didn’t even bring it to school today. Or maybe I left it on the bus. Maybe Sloane picked it up and forgot to give it back to me. Could I really have lost it? Even if I have there’s really no reason for us to panic about a random person finding it. I keep it password protected and the real juicy secrets off of it. I’m being paranoid. That’s all. It’ll turn up…

  By lunch, the anxiety of not having found my phone and no real recollection of its location has my stomach turned inside out.

  Sloane elbows me in the side after she flops down on the bench space next to me. “Look, I know you’re having a shit day, but you didn’t have to ignore all my texts.”

  Immediately, I plead, “I lost my phone, so I haven’t seen your texts.”

  She seems to have trouble processing the words. “What do you mean you lost your phone?”

  “I mean I lost it,” I innocently explain. “I don’t even remember the last place I used it.”

  “You had it on the bus…”

  “Yeah, I thought I did,” my mumbled agreement is followed promptly with, “Did you see me drop it in the seat?”

  She shakes her head just as Scott drops down across from us. “They’re doing half priced tacos and you two are just sitting here like it happens all the time.”

  “They just served tacos on Tuesday,” Sloane sneers. “That’s why they’re half priced. Leftovers.”

  “But good leftovers,” Scott quickly corrects.

  She rolls her eyes and sighs, “We have bigger problems to deal with than left over lunch meat. Ainsley lost her phone.”

  “Josh didn’t give that back to you yet?”

  My eyebrows instantly lift. “What? What do you mean give it back? Why does he have it?!”

  Scott casually shrugs. “He said he found it in the hallway.”

  The expression on Sloane’s face lets me know her thoughts are headed the same direction mine are. That bastard didn’t find it. He stole it!

  “Where is he now?” I frantically question. “Right now! Where is he?!”

  “He said he was swinging by the Headmaster’s office then grabbing a burger for lunch. I told him passing on taco day was insane but-”

  “I gotta go,” I interrupt, hopping out of my seat.

  With the sound of their voices behind me, I rush through the empty hallways, and straight for Nate’s classroom. In the back of my mind, I chant everything is going to be fine because my phone is locked. It’s secure. It’s protected from people like him just strolling their way through my privacy.

  Damn near out of breath, I rush into Nate’s classroom to see secretary Sewell standing in front of his desk.

  The two of them let their eyes dart to me. My mouth falls desperate to warn him of what I fear is about to happen, desperate to give him some sort of shield to protect him from the possibilities of what’s next, but can’t.

  “Yes, Miss Jacobson?”

  “I um…” Struggling on exactly what to say next, I catch onto his implication to continue quickly before Mrs. Sewell gets suspicious. “I just had a question about our final project.”

  “It couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?” Mrs. Sewell asks with a scowl on her middle-aged face.

  “I was going to work on it during lunch today, so I thought I’d stop by and ask before I did.”

  The answer seems to suffice her curiosity and Nate answers, “It’ll have to wait, Miss Jacobson. I have a meeting with Headmaster Wright.”

  My ability to hide my horror becomes harder. “Oh…”

  “Now,” Mrs. Sewell reiterates.

  Quickly, I nod and say, “I understand. I’ll see you both that direction. I have to grab my phone. Apparently, someone found it and was on their way to turn it in.”

  He momentarily looks relieved. “I’m glad to hear you finally have it back, Miss Jacobson.”

  “Josh found it,” I thoughtlessly spew. “The guy who walks me to class.”

  His face doesn’t change though Mrs. Sewell seems to be scanning it for anything other than indifference. “Good to hear, Miss Jacobson. Have a nice lunch.”

  I do my best to hide the pain in mine. “You too, Mr. Greene….”

  As I spin on my heels to hastily beat them to the Headmaster’s office, I try my best to hold back my tears of rage and trepidation. The knot of disgust clogging my throat expands. And to think…just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse. Fuck. That’s exactly why no one should ever think that.

  NATE

  It’s interesting how no matter the age you are the dread of being in the principal’s office never goes away. Even ones as nice as this, with wall to wall built in bookshelves filled with leather bound books and a custom woven tapestry that shout lavish lifestyle. Even these still instill th
at gnawing feeling of pending denunciation.

  “Wilson,” I politely state, having a seat in the leather chair across from his long wooden desk.

  “Nathaniel,” he says in a professional tone. “Do you have any idea why I have requested this conference with you?”

  I’ve been speculating the last five minutes on exactly what it’s about. The problem is Ainsley’s warning was much too late. Shaking my head slowly, I lie, “No idea.”