Page 84 of The Substitute

While we’ve been messing around and he’s seen me naked multiple times now, I’m not comfortable just striding around without clothes. Something he does not share since he’s mostly naked all the time.

Wrapping the towel around my waist, I grab my dirty clothes and open the door to find him leaning on his forearm against the frame, wearing only boxer briefs. Okay, that’s sexy as fuck, and I can see why the booktok girls go crazy for it. Damn it.

Thank God I just came, so I don’t have to worry too much about a hard-on right now.

Ambrose pulls his lip between his teeth and rakes his gaze over me. “You look damn good.”

“Yeah, who knew a shower would do that?” I deadpan and push him with my palm to his chest, but instead of moving away, he puts his hand over mine and walks backward into our room. I have no choice but to follow him.

“You don’t have classes tonight, right?”

“No…why?”

A devilish smirk turns his innocent schoolboy face into something that promises debauchery. He’s going to be the death of me.

“Get comfy, then meet me out here on the couch.” Ambrose stops moving and drags his eyes over my body again. “Unless you want some help?”

I push him toward the door. “I have homework. I don’t have time for you to distract me.”

“I’ll make it worth your while—promise,” he calls after me, and I flip him the bird.

I close the door and let myself smile at the ridiculousness of him.

It takes me longer than I want to admit to find something decent to wear. I don’t know what he has planned, so I don’t know if sweats are okay, and they aren’t exactly sexy. Do I want to be sexy? I don’t know, but maybe? He said comfortable, but does that actually mean comfortable, or does it mean casual?

I settle on some jeans that used to fit better and a t-shirt. After messing with my hair for a few minutes, I give up, shove my glasses on my face, and leave the room. I really need to get it cut and order contacts.

Ambrose is hot. He can get laid anywhere and only wears clothes when it’s forced upon him. If he wants to hook up, he doesn’t have to stay here and bother with me. Savage, too, if I’m being really honest with myself. I want to relax into what appears to be affection, but there’s something holding me back.

Fear. It’s fear, you moron. You want them both and know you can’t have them, so by not asking for clarification or setting boundaries, you think you’re keeping yourself safe when in reality it’s a false sense of safety and you’re actually hurting yourself.

Fuck off, brain. No one asked you.

When I get to the living room, there’s a knock on the door, and Ambrose is quick to answer it. Smells like food. Savory and rich.

He smiles when he turns around and sees me. “Hey, you like Japanese ramen, right?”

“Yup.” I get distracted by the workout shorts he’s put on, sitting low on his hips. What is it about that strip of skin between the hipbones that is so hot?

“Good, go sit down at the coffee table and find something to watch.”

I blink and look at the living room we share with our other roommates.

“I really need to get some studying done.”

“That’s why we’re out here and not in the room.” He sets everything on the coffee table. The opaque plastic containers with our soup in them, chopsticks, forks and spoons, napkins, and sauces, all set up neatly. “What are you studying? Can I help?”

I open my container and twirl my chopsticks around. “Probably not.”

“Oh, right, because I’m just a dumb jock, right?”

The words are sarcastic, but I think I actually hurt his feelings, which wasn’t what I meant. I give so much shit to Teddy for being an idiot that it’s reflex at this point. I’ve lived in his shadow my entire life. I love science, I always have, but because I can’t stop a puck from going into a net, no one fucking cares. So I’ve been an asshole to him. It’s not his fault that everyone fawnsover him or that he’s not book smart. Logically, I know that, and it’s not fair. I should work on that.

“That’s not what I meant.” I shake my head, not knowing how to word this without sounding like a bigger asshole. “I barely understand it, and I haven’t missed a lecture.”

Ambrose is quiet for a minute before he reaches for my knee and gives it a squeeze. “I’m proud of you for going to class. What class is it for?”

“One of my physical chem classes.”