Page 96 of The Substitute

“Wait, what?” Ambrose says dropping his keys like they burned him.

“Cum. Spunk. Jizz. Ejaculate. Am I understanding this correctly?” I demand.

Rhys is shaking to keep his laughter in, and I’m pretty sure Ambrose is horrified, but I’m afraid to look at him at this point.

“Yeah! I had to fill a bunch of these little tube things, and this lady in the internet does some magic stuff and makes it into clay that she makes into stuff.” Teddy explains this like he’s telling me about the weather while Rhys pulls his own keys out with the same little bear.

Ambrose is gagging next to me, which tells me all I need to know.

“And the boys all know about this?” I cross my arms to keep myself from ripping the bear off Ambrose keys and throwing it at my brother. “They’re all carrying your baby batter around, and they’re all perfectly fine with it?”

“Of course!” Teddy says at the same time Ambrose says, “No!”

Mom comes out of the kitchen to tell us that dinner is ready, and I have never been more thankful for a distraction.

That fucking bear is disappearing the second we leave here. Good luck be damned.

We pass dishes of steaming pot roast and veggies around, followed by gravy and rolls that Mom made from scratch.

It smells amazing, but I’m barely picking at it while my knee is bouncing under the table. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be forced to watch Rhys and Teddy be happy while I’m struggling to not hate them for it. Can I ever be openly happy like that? Savage doesn’t seem to mind some PDA, but the more I think about it, the more I realize Ambrose only wants me in the dorm room. He doesn’t want to meet up or go out. I guess it makes sense if he’s trying to keep his sexuality under wraps, but what will that look like long-term for us?

Will he ever come out?

My stomach churns, and I put down my fork. Ambrose looks at me with a question in his eyes, so I give him a little smile.

“Canada is the birthplace of hockey. That’s why we play their national anthem before every game.” Teddy’s words are so confident, it takes a second to register what he said.

“Wait, what?” I ask, now wishing I had been following the conversation so I had a tiny bit of context.

“All the hockey players got together at the conversation center to write it. Look it up.” He has the audacity to look at me like I’m stupid.

I blink at him several times before I respond, “A group of hockey players wrote the Canadian National Anthem to play before hockey games. Is that what you just said?”

“Tobi.” Mom’s warning tone isn’t going to stop me.

“Yeah, it’s in the Jean Eva Convection, just like not fucking the enemy.” He gives a pointed look at Rhys, then turns back to me.

“Are you really this stupid, or is it a bit that we haven’t caught on to yet?”

Mom, Dad, Rhys, and Ambrose all say my name at once.

“No!” I meet all their eyes, furious and frustrated and hurt. Why? Why does he get everyone’s attention, everyone’s sympathy? It’s not fair! Why do I get scolded for calling out his shit but no one else calls him out?

Clenching my hands into fists, I try to get myself back under control, but I can’t. I shove away from the table and stalk down the hall to my old room.

“Tobias.” Ambrose is right on my heels, forcing his way in and pushing me back against the door once it’s closed.

My name in that tone means I’m in trouble, but the part of me that’s hurt and angry doesn’t give a flying fuck.

“Ambrose.”

His eye twitches, and I can see him trying to figure out the best way to deal with my shit. And that’s what it is—petty shit. Iknow it, yet I can’t seem to stop myself from picking at Teddy. It’s my go-to after a lifetime of being told I’m not enough.

“I can’t tell if what you need is a hug and reassurance that you’re cared for or to be told to knock it off because you’re being a dick for no reason.”

Ouch.

“I’m not a child.”