The Substitute (The Bros Series Book 1)

by Xavier Neal

  My fingers rake themselves across the scruff growing along my jaw.

  I fucked up. Even when I thought I wasn’t doing exactly what that asshole wanted by admitting to nothing, I did what he wanted by ending things with her. By giving up. By freeing her from me and opening the door for him walk through. Fuck!

  Holden beams proudly. “It’s finally clicking in about what a dick you are, right?”

  I reluctantly nod.

  “Yeah, well, it’s overdue,” he announces, clearing the screen. “And as far as your teaching career being ruined? Take that shit as a sign to stop chasing something you don’t really fucking want and get back into what it is you love to do. For the love of God call that woman Wyatt mentioned and go for it. Or if you don’t wanna work on some biopic about a skater or surfer-”

  “Snow boarder.”

  “-then at the very least apply for that job at McCormick and McCordick you’ve been stalking for the past month.”

  Temptation to snap at him for watching my internet history starts to run rampant when another idea hits me. A better one. A way to pave the path for penance.

  “Keep living life like you were when Ainsley reminded you how to do it.”

  The ache in my chest returns, but I nod my head. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I’m fucking right.”

  I roll my eyes and ask, “Can you do me a favor?”

  He lifts his eyebrows.

  “Can um….can you check Ainsley’s internet search history for me?”

  “Just talk to her,” Holden sighs. “You wanna know what she’s been up to without you around, just fucking ask.”

  “That’s not it, asshole. I um….I wanna send her something, but I need it to be the right one.”

  Intrigue coats his face. “I’m listening…”

  It only takes a moment to explain to him what it is I’m looking for. It takes the exact same amount of time for him to find it. After he sends me a quick email with the information, he shuts his computer down, and begins to pack up.

  A little surprised by his decision to leave so quickly, I joke, “So that’s it? You just came by to say ‘Fuck you, Nate. You’re wrong about everything.’ and leave?”

  Holden laughs as he nods. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  I shake my head. “What if this wouldn’t have worked?”

  “I knew it would.”

  “What if it hadn’t? What if I refused to believe any of that shit or even refused to listen to it?”

  He swings his laptop case strap over his shoulder. “Then it would’ve been Pax’s turn for a visit and he would’ve beat the fuck out of you until you couldn’t move, so then you had no choice but to listen.”

  The idea of a boxing match with Pax makes me shift in discomfort.

  I’m not a fucking pussy despite what my bros believe, but I’ve seen Pax knock the shit out of people for crossing us wrong and it’s never ended well. Sometimes I wonder if he was originally led to law because he needed to know how to legally avoid ending up behind bars for beating someone half way to hell.

  “I’ve gotta go interview a new nanny,” Holden groans. “Wish me luck.”

  Knowing he wouldn’t even approve of someone as perfect as Mary Poppins, I simply offer him a wave goodbye. “Good luck, bro.”

  Once the door shuts, I take a moment to drink in the state of my apartment, the state of my life. With collections of beer bottles on the table, dirty clothes spread out on the floor, and take out containers littered all around, I shut my eyes in disgust. Life doesn’t have to be this way. Just because a tragedy strikes doesn’t mean I have to become someone I’m not. It doesn’t mean I have to give up everything I fucking want. It doesn’t mean life has to be over. I can pick up the pieces better this time. I know it.

  Ainsley

  “You sure this is what you wanna do?” Sloane questions as I prepare to get out of Scott’s SUV he’s borrowing from his parents. “You’re absolutely sure?”

  I take in a deep breath to clear the doubts away she’s steadily

  creating.

  “What if he doesn’t answer? Or what if he sends you away? Or what if-”

  “Sloane,” Scott interrupts for me. “Her night’s going to be perfect just like ours.”

  When his fingers reach over to fold with hers, a bright smile twists its way onto my lips.

  About a week after shooting my newly requested footage for my final project, Scott made a decision. He stopped letting Sloane run from whatever it was that was between them. He fought to make her listen. He fought harder to make her understand. At the end of all the fighting and fucking, as she so gracefully put it, she realized she’s just scared of being hurt. I did my best in my heart broken state to explain to her being scared is a part of falling in love, but when you’re with the right person the fear feels nonexistent. She confided in me that’s exactly how Scott makes her feel. That’s exactly how Nate made me feel and after the unique way he reached out to me, I know in my heart the two of us aren’t over. It’s just time for us to finally talk.

  I open the door and shimmy my way out of the vehicle. With the edge of my dress slightly hiked up to prevent it from dragging on the sidewalk, I wish my friends all the best for the evening, and head inside.

  On the elevator ride up, the woman I’m sharing it with can’t stop from staring at my attire. However, despite her obvious desire to question it, she keeps her mouth shut. When she notices our floor happens to be the same, she quietly questions, “Which apartment do you live in?”

  “I don’t. My boyfriend lives here.”

  Her eyebrows furrow. “May I ask who your boyfriend is?”

  “Nate Greene.”

  She nods, though it’s obvious she’s surprised. The doors ding open. “3 E. The teacher.”

  With a proud smirk, I state, “Yes. But he’s not a teacher anymore.”

  At least he’s not at my school and that’s what truly matters.

  The woman expresses her opinion in the form of a hum before letting herself into her own apartment.

  Thankfully Nate’s is only a couple apartments down the hall, making the somewhat awkward walk in the gown bearable. At his door, I prepare to use my key, the key I never gave back even when I should’ve. All of a sudden, Sloane’s doubts start to tumble towards me again. What if he isn’t home? What if he’s out with his bros or worse…What if he has some rebound in there he’s trying to screw in an attempt to forget about us? When I got his package yesterday afternoon, I didn’t bother sending him a message or any indication I would be showing up tonight. What if I’m wrong about this? What if this was his way of saying goodbye?

  I cowardly stare at his door until my own words about fear come barreling back at me, sending my clutch free hand to do the knocking. With my breath held tightly in my chest, I impatiently wait and secretly pray I didn’t misread the situation.

  Just when doubt creeps its way up my spine again, his door opens, exposing to me a sight I’ve missed seeing. I drink in his low hanging workout shorts and his gray Clover Rose t-shirt. His tussled hair and sullen unshaven face tell me exactly what I was hoping to hear. He hasn’t been out trying to replace me. He’s been here. Missing me like I’ve been missing him. Nate takes a moment to soak me in in return. His eyes caress the curves of my chest that are covered by the black portion of my strapless gown. The bottom portion is white and pleated. There’s a black flower sprinkled with white glitter on the left side right where the two colors meet. My wavy hair is pinned to one side of my face to allow the dangling earrings I’m wearing visibility.

  His mouth cracks open, yet the silence remains.

  Deciding to be the first to speak, I say, “While I couldn’t let you be the first person to see me in it like I said I would, I can keep the other half of the promise and have you be the last one to.”

  The corner of his mouth attempts to move upward. It takes him an additional beat, but he eventually argues
, “I’m not last. Didn’t prom just start an hour ago?”

  I nod.

  “Aren’t you headed there?”

  My grin returns fully as I answer, “No. I’m exactly where I belong.”

  Nate’s shoulders sink in relief. He wets the lips I’ve missed on mine, takes a step back, and ushers a hand to invite me in.

  Once we’re inside, lingering somewhat awkwardly in his living room, I ask, “How’d you know this was my dream dress?”

  He smirks and has a seat on the edge of his couch. “Holden can be helpful at times.”

  I shake my head and smile again. “Should’ve known.”

  Before the situation can tumble towards uncomfortable silence again, Nate states strongly, “I’m sorry, Ainsley.”

  The three words I’ve been waiting weeks to hear swiftly swirl around me, swaying me on my feet.

  “I really am,” he continues, sorrow filling his tone. “I fucked up. I know I fucked up. I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve allowed you to explain like you deserved to. Most importantly, I’m sorry for that shit I said about you ruining my life. I was just pissed and…I was the one being childish.”

  “Very,” I whisper out.

  “Having you come into my life was a blessing I didn’t deserve and a blessing I didn’t mean to fuck up. I love you. I love you more than I love my fucking self. I love you enough to put you on that plane and walk into the fog. That’s what I meant when I wrote ‘We’ll always have Paris’. That was my way of letting you know if you wanna walk away from everything we had, I won’t stop you, not because I don’t love you, but because I love you enough to let you have a better future without me.”

  My mouth trembles as I try to reply. I didn’t come here expecting to cry. The thought didn’t even occur to me. I hoped he would apologize, promise to never do it again, and then we’d have really hot make up sex. I never thought he’d say anything like this.

  After I’ve manage to swallow my tears, I declare, “I don’t want you to let me walk away, Nate. I want you to be the selfish man Humphrey wasn’t. I want us to have Paris, Rome, London, New York, and anywhere else our love takes us. I want film class, festivals, corn dogs, and afternoons on the couch. I want…I want us.”

  His face melts. “I want us too…”

  “But I want you to trust me. To believe me. To have the same faith in me that I’ve had in you from the minute I saw your face. This will never work if I have to constantly reassure you I’m not going anywhere. So, tell me, right now Nathaniel Ryan Greene. Do you trust me?”

  “Absolutely…”

  “Will you trust me in the future? Will you talk to me the next time you have doubts? Will you give our future the actual chance it deserves rather than throw it away because you’re afraid it won’t be the perfect, calculated, textbook romance you assume it should be?”

  “Yes.”

  With my shoulders pressed slightly back, I do something I don’t often get to in our relationship. I make a demand. “Then kiss me already, Teach.”

  Promptly, he’s back on his feet, arms around me, and lips meshed with mine. I drape one arm around his neck and use the other to clutch him closely, nearly dropping my purse in the process. Our mouths part and our tongues relentlessly roll around one another anxious to be sated like never before. I softly moan my desire for more, which is when he pulls away.

  Nate’s bright blues lovingly stare into mine. “You should have at least one dance in this dress before I rip it off.”

  I give him a smirk. “Fine. One. But then you rip it off and spend the rest of the night marking me as yours…”

  He lightly groans, but nods his agreement. “Wait here.”

  Doing as requested, I toss my clutch onto the couch while he grabs his phone. It only takes a brief moment before there’s music coming from the speakers of his cell. The tune is one I instantly recognize and my pleased, sweet expression lets him know it.

  “Not the original but I like Sinatra’s version a bit more.”

  Nate places the phone on the coffee table and retreats back to me. This time he places one hand on my hip and the other in mine. My head instantly falls to his chest as we slightly sway around the small portion of the living room. He quietly sings along to “As Time Goes By”, the sacred song of our beloved film. We tug one another closer and allow ourselves to drift off towards absolution and a happy ending rather than a bittersweet one.

  NATE

  Epilogue

  Ainsley’s body continuously bumps against the kitchen counter. With every thrust, the potential for bruising her back becomes bigger and bigger. But she doesn’t complain. She never complains about being covered in bruises or bite marks. She wears them proudly like some sort of badge of honor. And now we never have to worry again for them being mistaken for anything else.

  I sink my teeth into the side of her neck. The additional pain frees the orgasm she had been holding back and allows my own to greet it.

  A raw, uncontrollable rumble reverberates through our home reminding me how grateful I am we rent a house instead of an apartment. Moving out of the tiny one bedroom right after she graduated was perfect for us. Surprisingly, finding a house to rent close enough for a short commute to Ashwin wasn’t that difficult. We spent the majority of our summer when I was home unpacking and christening every room multiple times. While I denied the job with Miranda Tate for the biopic because it meant I would’ve had to spend Ainsley’s first semester of college traveling the country, she did put me in touch with a company that hired me to edit teaser clips and promotional trailers for their television show, Saved By The Fangz. I’m allowed to work from home, but I have multiple video conferences a week, and have to be willing to travel to the main office when requested. The trade off to work from home rather than uproot our lives was worth it. In my opinion the show’s a little hokey, but it’s somehow weaseled its way under Ainsley’s skin. She loves watching me edit and swooning over the main characters. Her swoons typically end in a swat on the ass and sex on my office couch, which I bought specifically for that reason.

  Her ragged breathing finally settles and she brushes her face against mine. “God, I love it when you come home…”

  I move my face so our eyes can connect me. “Me too, Kid.”

  After a soft kiss, I gently lower her leg back down. She runs her hands down my dress shirt covered chest. “As much as I wanna go again, I have to get ready for work.”

  My grunt is unmistakable. I hate that she still works at the damn pub. When we moved I swore she’d give it up and just be a full time student. I told her repeatedly I had more than enough money to take care of us both, but she refused. Claims she needs some independence. We’ve argued more times than I care to admit about that. Well and about the car I bought her so she could stop riding the bus and drive herself to class. It’s not that I don’t think she can fend for herself, I just don’t want her feeling like she has to anymore. She says she doesn’t. She says she hasn’t felt like that since the day we packed her shit out of her mother’s place and into mine. That was the last time they spoke. Her piece of shit mother didn’t even show up to her graduation. The look on everyone’s face when I did along with Wyatt, Pax, and Holden was priceless. In spite of Josh’s whining, Wilson didn’t bother to say anything since neither of us were his problem any longer. I had ‘resigned’ and she was no longer a student. He saw no reason to intervene. Plus the accusations, Josh falsely made warranted other members of the staff to worry and complain a few policies needed to be rewritten. Wyatt treated all of us and Sloane and Scott to lunch that day. The two of them left for Clover Rose together at the end of the summer. Ainsley and her still text frequently and I admit I’m relieved she still has someone else she can rely on.

  “You want me to bring you something back tonight?” She asks, slipping out of my grasp.

  “No. I promised my mom I’d have dinner with them. She’s been dying to try some Italian restaurant.”


  My father eventually told my mother, but like Holden said she already knew. She had just been looking the other way. He had suddenly been getting sloppy about it and she didn’t appreciate it. She promised him she would return to looking the other way if he made more of an effort to take her out like he used to. As much as I hate it, it’s not my marriage. It’s theirs. If it’s what works for them, if it’s what they wanna go through, then that’s on them. The three of us managed to address the issue and put it to rest almost instantly. They requested we never discuss it and I requested he never sleeps with my girlfriend’s mother again. My father insisted that went without having to be said. I finally took Ainsley over for dinner during the summer. Neither of them judged her on her age or the fact we met while I had been teaching. I guess me knowing their dirty little secret prevented them from judging me about my own. They both think Ainsley’s sweet and appreciate her igniting a drive back inside of me. I don’t take her every time we meet for dinner, but she’s always welcomed.