Page 3 of The Substitute (New York Gods #4)

THREE

TOBI

Five Months Later

The door to my room opens, letting light into the dark domain I’ve existed in for…I don’t know how long. Doesn’t really matter. It hurts my eyes, and I squint against the intrusion.

“Jesus. Have you left this room since moving in?” Rhys’ voice makes my heart hurt.

Every time I see him I’m reminded my best friend choose my brother and went behind my back to date him.

Betrayal rears its ugly head, taking the numbness away to replace it with anger.

Anger is the protector of the heart, I guess.

“Why do you even care?” I bite out, but my voice cracks with lack of use. When was the last time I actually spoke to someone?

“Have you gone to any of your classes?” The light behind him is blinding, but I can see him cross his arms and widen his stance, preparing for the fight. I don’t have the energy. Not anymore. What’s the point?

I’m not worth fighting with anyway.

“It’s the first week. Nothing happens the first week anyway.

” Wasn’t it? Had it been longer? I can’t even remember.

The days have blended together. “Are you my babysitter? Did my mom send you over here, or did you finally realize you haven’t talked to me in weeks?

Are you feeling guilty so you storm over here to pat yourself on the back, tell yourself you’re a good friend, you tried.

I’m just being unreasonable, right? Being difficult on purpose? ”

“It’s more than that…” Rhys trails off.

“Then why haven’t you spoken to me in weeks?” Maybe I shouldn’t be such an ass, but I can’t stop myself. Every time I see him, my chest feels like it’s cracking open.

“I thought maybe you needed space…”

“Fuck off and leave me alone.” I roll away from him, facing the wall to choke back the tears. Doesn’t he realize seeing him makes it worse?

“Tobi,” he starts.

“Hey, man, your new roommate is here.” Clive, one of my roommates from last year, says from the doorway.

“New roommate?” I push on my eyes and try to remember what he’s talking about. We have another three-room dorm this year with a common area and bathroom we share. “What happened to Kyle?”

There’s silence for a beat, but I don’t move. I don’t really care.

“Uh, his grandma got sick, so he’s taking a year off, went back home.” Clive replies, kinda triggering my memory.

I flick my gaze to the empty bed I barely notice and cringe internally. I don’t want to share my damn room.

“Right.” It’s all I’ve got. I can’t deal with all this right now. I’ve barely made it to classes, and I’m already behind.

“Tobi, go meet your roommate. Don’t be a dick to him. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” Rhys’ chastising makes me want to swing at him, but that also takes more energy than I have.

“Why are you still here?” I demand, forcefully rolling over, grabbing my glasses, and shoving to my feet. If he won’t leave, I will. Whatever makes this stop.

“Because my best friend isn’t okay, that’s why.”

“That didn’t seem to bother you too much when you were lying to my face about fucking my brother.” I scoff and shoulder past him. Like he cares. I see the clench of his jaw and the urge to grab for me, but he doesn’t. Is that better or worse? Some best friend.

But I’m not his best friend. I haven’t been in a long time, and that hurts more than I want to explore right now.

Clive quickly moves out of the way as I leave the room, and I immediately regret it.

It’s so fucking bright out here. And I feel gross.

When was the last time I showered or changed my clothes?

What an embarrassment I am. No wonder I don’t have any friends.

I’m disgusting and selfish. When was the last time I reached out to check on someone else?

No idea. Also hard to do when you don’t have anyone to check in on.

Discomfort inches over my body until I’m acutely aware of everything. The way my shorts hang off my hips, the seams of my shirt under my arms, the crumby hardwood under my feet, and the hair in my face.

A hulk of a man has his back to me, meeting the other guys we share the common space with. The front of a stupid hockey ball cap is pointed at me, along with a broad back covered in muscle.

Jesus.

Clive clears his throat, and he turns. Sweat is dripping down his chest to his abdomen, and there’s a dirt smudge on his cheek and a stupid grin on his face. Of course he’s hot. I fucking hate my life.

“Oh, shit. Hey.” The smile on his face falters when I finally lift my head to meet his gaze.

My entire world zeros in on him, blurring everything around us.

Cold, dread-filled embarrassment drips into my stomach and through my veins.

Oh God, no.

Not him.

Anyone but him.

I can’t move, can’t blink, can’t think past the only other time I’ve seen him. No one knows about that night. No one knows how close I was to not coming home with a pulse.

No. One.

Except him.

He reaches his hand for me, an unsure energy coming off of him.

“I’m Ambrose.”

He’s close enough now that I can smell the sweat and body wash on his skin.

It forces me back to the bridge. Back to being held while I allowed the not good enough and never will be enough feelings to flood me, knowing I’m also too chicken shit to end it.

The undertow of self-hatred and rejection ripped my feet out from under me, plunged my head under the water as if I wore cement shoes, drowning me in the dark waters of just wanting to be loved and never getting it.

I didn’t want to die that night; I just didn’t want to live either.

I don’t shake his hand—I can’t. If I touch him, I’ll lose it.

Clive stands next to us, shifting on his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. “So, uh, this is Tobi. Tobi, this is Ambrose.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Rhys mutters somewhere behind me. Like he’s broken the spell, I suck in a lung full of air and blink.

“Nice to meet you,” I mumble, then spin around to hide in my room again, but I realize he’s going in there too.

I have nowhere to escape him. Someone says my name, but I don’t stop, not until I’m inside.

I barely make it to the bed before the trembling is so bad, my knees give out.

The sob that leaves my mouth is ripped from the darkest part of me.

The corner I’ve been living in for too long.

No one notices I’m fucked up. That I’m drowning.

I’ve been so locked in my own head, I can’t find a way out anymore.

Yet some fucking stranger saw me.

My stomach aches and my throat burns as I curl into a ball, ripping at my hair until my fingers tingle. Why am I like this? Why can’t I just be nice? Be grateful for Rhys coming to check on me?

I fucking hate it. I hate myself. It’s no wonder no one wants to be around me…

My door creaking open startles me awake. I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep, but I’m not surprised either. All I do is sleep or stare at the ceiling these days.

“Tobi?” It’s a voice I barely recognize but won’t ever forget. What did Clive say his name was? Andrew? Armando?

That’s not his name, you fucking moron.

But I can’t make my brain come up with it.

I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t. Not to him. Not to this man. He saved me, and what for? I think I’m more embarrassed that I’ve done nothing. I’ve done nothing with the second chance he gave me. Is he disappointed in me, too? If I was him, I would be.

“Hmm,” is all I can manage, but I turn my head enough to look at the other side of the room. It looks like he got his stuff in here while I was sleeping.

“I didn’t forget you.” His words are quiet but drop me right back into that place where we met.

I can almost feel the wind on my cheeks.

“I’ve thought about you every day, even searched online to see if I could find a record of your death.

” He pauses, and my already sore throat aches around the knot forming. “I’m really glad you’re alive.”

Well, that makes one of us.