Page 110 of Offside Attraction

I scoff, shaking my head. “This isn’t trust-building. This is some twisted power play so you can lord it over me when I inevitably want to punch you.”

Hayes smirks, his gaze flicking to me with that maddening glint in his eyes. “I don’t know. Sounds like you’re scared you won’t be able to keep up.”

“Scared?” I repeat, my voice rising as I unbuckle my seatbelt. “You wish, Griffin.”

“Then prove it,” he says, his tone challenging as he opens his door and steps out. “Come on, Miller. Show me what you’ve got.”

I let out a frustrated sigh, following him out of the car and slamming the door behind me. The cool air does little to ease the heat simmering under my skin as I trail behind him toward the brightly lit building.

“I swear,” I mutter, shaking my head. “If you screw this up, I’m going to break every bone in your body and I ain’t playing.”

Hayes glances back at me, his smirk widening. “Are you gonna stop making threats any time soon?”

“No, I’m not.”

Hayes shrugs, looking unbothered. “Fair enough.”

I roll my eyes as we reach the entrance, the neon sign above the door glowing like a warning. Whatever this is, it’s already a disaster—and we haven’t even started yet.

A cheerful employee greets us the minute we step inside, ushering us further. The room is dimly lit, with various props and puzzles scattered around, and I can already feel the tension in my chest tightening further.

The employee gives us a brief rundown of the rules and objectives, but I barely hear a word, too distracted by the fact that I’m about to be locked in a room with Hayes for an hour—or however long it takes to get out. Knowing him, it’ll feel like an eternity.

Once we are inside the Escape Room, the heavy door slams shut behind us, the sharp click of the lock echoing in the small, dimly lit room. A single bulb hangs overhead, flickering slightly, casting long shadows across the mismatched furniture and cluttered shelves. The air smells faintly of dust and wood polish, like the room hasn’t seen daylight in decades.

I take a cautious step forward, scanning the space. The walls are lined with bookshelves, old clocks, and framed photographs of people who look like they stepped straight out of the 1800s. There’s a desk in the corner, its drawers slightly ajar, and a wooden chest sits near the far wall. The faint hum of a speaker system pipes in eerie music, like something out of a low-budget horror movie.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “Creepy vibes and a locked door. Just what I wanted.”

“Scared already, Miller?” Hayes’s voice comes from behind me, dripping with amusement. I turn to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, arms tucked away in his jacket pockets, that infuriating smirk firmly in place.

“Hardly,” I snap, shoving my hands into my pants pockets. “Just wondering how long it’ll take for you to screw this up.”

His smirk deepens, and he steps closer, his presence filling the space like a god. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

“Sure you do,” I mutter, already heading for the desk. “Let’s just get it over with.”

There’s a laminated card propped up on the desk, printed with bold letters:“The answer to your freedom lies where the past holds its secrets. Begin your search there.”

“Cryptic,” I say, glancing at Hayes, who’s busy inspecting a dusty globe on one of the shelves.

“It’s an escape room. They’re all cryptic.” He spins the globe lazily before stopping it with his finger. “So… where does the past hold its secrets?”

“Maybe the bookshelf?” I suggest, pointing to the rows of old, leather-bound books.

Hayes shrugs and moves toward it, his fingers brushing the spines as he scans the titles. “These all look ancient. How do we know which one to pick?”

I crouch next to the desk, pulling open one of the drawers. “Look for something that stands out,” I say, rummaging through the contents—loose papers, an old key that doesn’t fit the chest, and a pocket watch with a frozen time.

“Hey,” Hayes calls out, pulling a thick book off the shelf. “This one’s hollow.”

Inside is a small slip of paper with a riddle:“Time ticks forward, but your path begins where time has stopped.”

“Time has stopped?” I repeat, frowning. “What does that even mean?”

Hayes grins, walking over to a clock on the wall, its hands frozen at midnight. “Let me guess. It’s this.”

“Lucky guess,” I mutter, watching as he carefully removes the clock from the wall. Behind it, there’s a small compartment with another clue:“The key is within reach, but only if you look beneath what’s hidden.”