Page 114 of The Substitute

Okay, it can’t be that hard to find a hoard of hockey bros and their adoring fans. Would they go out, though? Since they lost, will they go back to someone’s place to lick their wounds or whatever instead?

Fuck! I don’t know what to do.

Tobi: Are you out with the team? Where are you? Are you okay?

Jesus, I sound like a worried mom with a sick baby.

I bounce on my toes to keep my blood from freezing and to release some energy. Relax. No one likes an overly anxious… What? Fuck buddy? Maybe more?

You don’t have time for that spiral. One crisis at a time!

Ambrose: Yes. I’ll be fine

That tells me nothing.

Tobi: Where are you?

Ambrose: Why?

Tobi: Because I want to make sure you’re okay?

Ambrose: I told you I am

Tobi: So I’m not allowed to come check on you?

Ambrose: No.

Does he not get I’m trying to fix things with us? I hate feeling like this with him. Tears burn the back of my throat in a hard, unyielding lump. Turning toward the center of campus, I start walking. I assume he’s off campus, so there’s less chance of running into him here, and if I stay in our room for one more minute, I’ll throw his shit out a window or something.

The conversation I want to have and am terrified of at the same time plays in my head. I know we need to have an actual conversation about all of this, but what if he sets boundaries I can’t live with? Like I can’t ever be seen in public with him, no matter what? It would crush me.

I’m wandering aimlessly and find myself on the opposite side of campus where it’s crawling with people. In green and yellow hockey shit.

Fuck me.

Some people are pissed, yelling about the game, the number of penalties, and something about fighting. There’s a lot of fights in hockey, it’s a thing, but from some of these comments, it sounds like this was worse than usual. Interesting. I know the Gods are one of our rivals, and during Myth League games, things tend to get a little more intense, but I wonder how bad it really was.

Not enough to look up highlights. I don’t need any algorithms to think I’m interested and shove hockey into everything for the next month. No, thank you.

There’s a few bars here, so I pick one and go inside. Maybe a beer will help me calm down? It’s probably a terrible idea, but I seem to be full of those lately, so why limit myself.

When I get inside, a pretty woman asks for my ID, which I hand over. Scanning over the crowd, I realize I’ve made a mistake. There’s faces in here I recognize as being part of Teddy’s team, even if I don’t know their names.

Fuck. Me.

“Thank you. Enjoy your night.” The woman smiles, handing my card back.

I mumble a ‘thank you’ as panic sets in.

I can’t be here. I can’t be seen. If Ambrose sees me here, he’ll probably come unglued and think I was stalking him and vaulting over his boundaries. Which will probably lead to him hating me and never wanting to talk to me again. He’ll leave me and move out of our room…

Jesus fucking Christ, get a hold of yourself.

That’s when I hear it. Ambrose’s laugh. My head snaps to the left, and I see him at a high-top table in that suit I love, laughing with a group of similarly dressed guys and girls hanging off of all of them. All. Of. Them.

My heart hammers. Proof that I am expendable is right there in my face.

“Uh sir?” The lady at the stand touches my arm and I jump.