Page 1 of Stop and Seek (Our Childish Games #1)

Theo liked his job, just not his life. The library was quiet and predictable. Normal. The fluorescent lights hummed with the steady insistence of a migraine waiting to happen. The faint smell of dust covers and fake flowers were home.

It didn’t ask too much of him. He could spend hours scanning ISBNs. Helping with a printer jam, again. Answering stupid questions—“Can I have more internet time?” “Do you have that one book with the bird cover?”—over, and over, and over.

The same couldn’t be said about everything else—about the gnawing emptiness that followed him home.

The sweat and regret he couldn’t scrub away in the shower.

Or the splitting headache the morning after another round of drinks he didn’t remember ordering.

The pills he didn’t remember taking. The people he couldn’t have given less of a shit about, whose names he sometimes couldn’t even place.

It wasn’t like anyone ever stayed long enough to matter.

That was the thing: people came and went, and the more he trusted them, the faster they fucked up his entire life. Like he handed them a matchbook to light a blunt and they burned his whole house apartment down for fun.

Reality sucked. Plain and simple. He’d learned that lesson too late, and by the time it had fully settled in, it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. He was already too far gone.

But god he’d gotten very, very good at pretending.

His phone buzzed again—sharp and annoying against the wood of the desk. Third text in two hours. He glanced down.

Rachie

Rat’s Nest. Tonight. Best have your ass ready.

Did he want to go? No. Not really. He’d finally shaken off the worst of his hangover, and if Rachel dragged Alyssa along too… he’d kill them both.

He loved them. He swore he did.

But most of the time, it would’ve been easier if he didn’t exist. If he could just… turn off his insides—one organ at a time—life would be better.

No one would even have to deal with the mess.

If the day had gone by any slower, Theo would have aged backward.

First, he forgot the keys to lock up—twice.

Once on the circulation desk, buried under a stack of returns, and then again in the back room.

Apparently, his brain had the retention of a goldfish with a traumatic head injury.

By the time he finally yanked the glass door shut, it rattled so violently he thought it might shatter in his hands.

The universe was as fed up with him as he was.

And that meant he had to stop and apologize to Mr. Adams, who took the opportunity to launch into his usual “In my day, kids were more aware of their surroundings” speech.

Yeah. Sure. Whatever.

Fucking geezer.

Then there was the car.

God, the car .

The inside reeked like something had died under the goddamn passenger seat—probably a rogue french fry sprouting new eyes.

And the hood got too hot to touch if he ran it longer than an hour, which meant praying it didn’t overheat every time he stopped at a red light.

He’d have to find time to take it to Ethan, but the thought of spending an entire paycheck just to keep the clunker limping along made his stomach churn.

If one more thing went wrong, he was going to lose the last shred of his already failing sanity.

When he finally made it home, he tossed his keys onto the counter; they slid straight off and hit the floor with a clatter that echoed too loud. He stared at them for a full five seconds, debating whether he cared enough to pick them up.

Nope.

Just another thing to add to the growing collection of shit that didn’t matter.

Maybe he should try to care more.

Maybe normal people did .

But he’d stopped trying months ago, and nothing catastrophic had happened yet. The world hadn’t ended just because he was phoning it in.

His therapist—if he actually bothered showing up—would have called it apathetic behavior or avoidant tendencies or some other clinical bullshit that ultimately meant nothing since he’d already hit rock bottom.

Sighing, Theo dropped onto the couch and ran his fingers through his hair.

It was fine.

Everything was fucking fine .

All he wanted to do was get out of run-down Podunk-ass Eunice. That was it. Get. Out. He could get his shit together somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Nothing happened here.

Ever.

The biggest headline was the overcrowded high school parking lot, because the kids didn’t go back for another month and apparently people had opinions about that.

Wow. Fucking thrilling .

If rent wasn’t so high everywhere else, he’d pack up and leave tonight.

He untangled a knot in his hair with a grimace and pulled out his phone. The screen glared back at him: junk emails with subject lines that screamed in all caps and a lone notification from an app he didn’t remember downloading. Probably another ad for snuff porn.

Said a lot about his life.

He scrolled until he found Rachel’s texts.

Theo

wat time?

Rachel’s reply was immediate.

Rachie

10. you driving or me Teddy?

He groaned.

Teddy.

No matter how many times he told her to stop, she insisted on calling him that. Like he was someone’s grandpa. Or a Golden Retriever with separation anxiety. Which—fine, fair —wasn’t entirely wrong, but still.

Theo

u pls car is screwed

He didn’t wait for the next message. Stuffing the phone back into his pocket, he slumped deeper into the couch until the cushions wrapped around him like a worn-out body bag.

There was enough time to nap. At least for a little while.

The constant all-nighters were getting harder and harder to maintain. As a teen? No problem. He could stay up for days and still somehow ace a history quiz blasted out of his mind on someone else’s prescription of Adderal.

As a semi-functional adult on diet made entirely of caffeine and delivery food? Not so much.

“Wakey wakey snuggle-bunny.”

Rachel’s voice slid into his ear. Her nail jabbed at his cheek—sharp and annoying as hell. He was already awake, thank you very much. Had been for a few minutes, staring at the inside of his eyelids like they could swallow him whole. But then her fingers dug into his chin and pinched, hard.

“Stop, dammit.” Theo hissed and yanked his head away. He squinted up at her, blinking until the light stopped burning. Her face never came into focus.

He patted blindly across the couch cushions until his fingers found the familiar bend of his glasses. One temple slightly crooked from the last time he’d rolled over them in his sleep. Still wearable. Kinda. He shoved them on.

Rachel raised her eyebrows.

“Are you wearing that?” she asked, her eyes sweeping over his crumpled clothes. Her smile did that thing it always did—twisted to the side like she was half a breath away from dragging him to the mall for a makeover montage.

“Yes,” Theo said flatly.

“Uh, can you try and look decent? Alyssa is bringing someone for you and—”

Not this again.

“The last time she set me up with someone, he was a creep,” Theo snapped, sitting up straighter .

“I vetted this one.” She held her phone up as if that would convince him. “You want to see a picture?”

“No.”

That should’ve been the end of it, but Rachel followed him into the bathroom. She leaned against the tile wall with all the casualness of someone who’d never been taught personal space.

Privacy wasn’t a thing. Not with Rachel.

Even if she had a damn good reason to hover—Theo still hated it.

At least she was busy scrolling and he could piss in peace.

“He’s cute,” she mumbled. “I guess. He has that like, nerdy-chic thing you got going on, Teddy.”

Rachel turned the screen toward him.

Theo glanced. Immediately regretted it.

The guy was… fine. Fake black hair so flat it looked spray-painted. Green contacts, maybe. Massive glasses that said look at me, I’m such a soft boy . They probably shared an optometrist.

Not his type.

“Don’t tell me.” Theo shut off the faucet and dried his hands on the already-damp towel. “His whole room is LED lit and he’s got pride flags everywhere. He’s also a ‘streamer,’ isn’t he? Spends every waking-fucking-second on an online game.”

Rachel bit her lip, trying not to smile. Failed. “No… maybe. Alright, maybe .”

“He looks like he’s twelve.”

“He’s twenty-five, you jerk!”

“Uh-huh.” Theo scoffed and leaned against the sink. “Yeah. I’ll pass.”

“Come on, give him a chance. For me?”

“Fuck off, Rachel,” he said, but it came out half-hearted. Like most of his arguments with her

And she knew it. Her grin widened, all dimples and straight white teeth.

Because no matter how much he hated all of this, he always caved.

The Rat’s Nest was packed.

Bodies pressed together in a mess of sweat and cheap cologne, the flashing neon lights throwing jagged shadows across the scuffed-up floor. Bass—cranked way too loud—rattled Theo’s ribs, a pulsing reminder that he should’ve just stayed home .

Theo winced as Rachel tugged him through the crowd, her fingers vice-gripped around his wrist like she thought he’d bolt. And honestly? He might’ve, if she hadn’t moved so fast. She was humming like this was his wedding and he was about to meet his groom.

They found Alyssa in seconds. And next to her, his date.

Liam.

Okay. Cuter than the pictures. Theo had to admit that. Tousled hair. Kind eyes. Great smile. Easy, relaxed laugh. Even if he wasn’t Theo’s type, he’d promised himself he’d try.

He had to try.

For his fucking sanity .

That resolve lasted about five minutes.

“So, you game?” Liam asked, leaning forward, voice weirdly sweet. This wasn’t a first-date segment on The Match Game . It was the back corner of a sticky-floored bar in the worst part of Cleveland.

“Yeah,” Theo said, dragging the word out a little.

“Same. What kind?”

“All of them.”

Liam’s smile twitched. His eyes darted toward Alyssa, then back to Theo, like he was checking for signs of irony.

Meanwhile, the girls’ conversation picked up just loud enough to fill the silence.

“And then, like—” Rachel slammed her empty soda glass on the table. “—she was screaming!”