Page 13 of Stop and Seek (Our Childish Games #1)

Every word out of Decker’s mouth had Theo searching for the closest place to buy duct tape. A half hour straight of that ear-grating voice had turned Theo’s brain into static.

And Decker was still whining.

“Ben-Ben. I’m withering. Hold me in your big, strong arms.”

“You already spilled slushie on me. No. I would rather step in front of oncoming traffic.”

Theo was this close to slapping the shit out of both of them.

If Mr. Pretentious—Ben-Ben—wanted to get hit by a car, Theo would’ve happily granted that wish. At least then they’d both shut up.

And Alyssa? Who the fuck knew where she was. Probably getting freaky with Max.

Theo did the only thing he could in this situation: blow up Alyssa’s phone with obnoxious GIFs until she remembered he existed.

Didn’t matter if they were about to start in ten minutes.

It was her fault he’d been left in hell with Decker and Ben-Ben for this long.

The smell of body spray and sweat was giving him a headache.

“I’m like, so hype,” Alyssa said. The bleachers squeaked when she bounced.

“I’m anxious,” Theo admitted.

His heart had started doing a weird, jittery thing five minutes ago and his leg wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Where are you going? I pinky-promise I won’t come hunt you down.”

He glared at her, but she wouldn’t stop grinning.

“No,” he finally said.

“Boo. Buzzkill.” She knocked her shoulder into his. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

Someone flicked the back of Theo’s head—again—and that string tethering his patience snapped.

“Fucking knock it off,” he spat, turning around. “Don’t be a damn child , keep your hands to yourself. Or didn’t you learn that shit in preschool?”

Noah’s hooded eyes slipped farther down. “I was just going to say good luck, babe.”

A little prickle ran down the back of Theo’s neck, but before he could investigate it further, his mind was screaming.

The fuck you mean babe?

The microphone screeched to life, and Theo took that as his sign to stand up before he ended up breaking his fingers on Noah’s face. Without another word, he hopped down the rest of the bleachers, happy to put as much distance between him and that asshole as he could.

“Who’s ready for round one?” Decker called out, skipping to the middle of the gym.

The feedback from the microphone was deafening, and half the crowd groaned. Decker covered it with a hand. Coughed.

“I’m sorry, bad Kyran,” he whispered. “I’d do it in my best ASMR voice, but I’m trying to keep you kiddos awake. We all know it’s time for a midday nap.”

That earned him laughter.

Headphones. For fucks sake, bring headphones.

Alyssa might have a pair in her car he could borrow for the day, and then he’d be in a much better headspace. He’d ask after.

“Be free, my children,” Decker said, and the pop gun exploded in the air.

Theo bolted, despite the stitch threatening his side.

Why was it always physical activity?

Fuck it.

He couldn’t dwell on that with the money on the line.

The squeak of sneakers and people laughing flooded his ears, drowning out everything else.

He was, by no means, the fastest, but he wasn’t the slowest either. Turning the corner, he headed for the courtyard. Swimming pool sized puddles lined the parking lot, which meant no one would want to go outside. Good enough for him; he didn’t mind getting muddy as long as he came out on top.

His lungs chugged, scraping air through his burning throat, but he forced his legs forward .

He tore past the bleachers. Down the slick steps that led to the weight room. Tugged on the door—

Locked.

Fuck.

The sports team’s locker rooms were on the other side.

When Theo tried that door, it opened.

He mouthed a silent thank you and slipped inside as quietly as he could. The locker room was wide open—too exposed—with nothing but a thin bench down the middle and storage on either side.

He headed further in. The showers weren’t covered, but there were a couple stalls. That would have to do.

Sliding into one, he parked his ass on the back of the toilet. His head and feet were hidden. All he had to do was wait.

The second pop sounded.

Ten minutes.

The next few rounds went by without a hitch.

Hiders got eliminated when they were found. Seekers got eliminated if they caught the least amount of people for that round.

Theo was sitting damn pretty.

When Decker let everyone know they’d break for an hour to eat and hydrate, Theo couldn’t stop smiling .

Pizza, cut into skinny triangle slices, and little clear cups of pop.

Exactly like middle school parties.

Alyssa found him first, all glitter-smeared and sticky with sweat, smelling like old shoes and vanilla body spray. She pushed her bangs out of her face, sweat dripping down her temples.

“Have you been like, chilling while I’ve been—oh, I dunno— dying ?”

“Guilty as charged. Relaxing way to make twenty-five grand.”

Alyssa huffed. Glared at him. Despite looking like she’d been through a trash compactor, she had her red band.

They were still in it together.

“Must be nice,” she mumbled, wrapping her arms around his and dragging him back to the bleachers. “I can’t feel my feet and you’re having a little treat day.”

“All I’ve been doing is standing or crouching. My legs hurt, too, drama queen.”

“Okay, screw you, Sir Asshole.” She dropped down with an audible groan. “Go get me food and I might forgive you.”

Theo snorted.

Alright. Fair. She did look like she had suffered more.

Shoving his way back through the crowd, the sheer smell of melted cheese, garlic, and oregano hit him harder.

This was better than middle school parties. The pizza probably wouldn’t taste like cardboard.

He reached for a paper plate—

Collided with a hand covered in gold rings.

“Gay boyfriend,” Max said.

“Theo.”

“No interest.” She flicked her eyes over him, mouth twisted into the thinnest line. “I can’t believe you made it this far.”

Bitch.

“Yeah,” he muttered, still focused on the pizza. He sat one more slice on top, hellbent on ignoring her.

“Got anything permanent?” Max asked. Her gaze skimmed over him like she was looking for something specific. “Piercings? Tattoos? Scars? Anything kinda cool?”

Theo couldn’t find the words for that at first.

Fucking weird questions.

Really, really weird, actually.

Theo glanced at the line forming behind him. “Why? You representing some tattoo shop or something?”

Max raised her eyebrows, her gaze never leaving his face as she hummed.

God, couldn’t she move?

The crowd was growing—people to the side, in front—and she was taking up space standing there.

She wasn’t saying anything anymore, either.

Just… staring.

It was unnerving as shit.

“Can you—”

“You shouldn’t take too much,” Max interrupted. “And one piece of advice: don’t fuck up, gay boyfriend. It’s going to be real bad if you do.”

She spun on her heel, weaving through the bodies, and leaving Theo standing there.

Stunned and more than a little pissed .

What was that about? Did she—did she threaten me?

By the time Theo sat next to Alyssa, the conversation was still replaying in his head.

“You like Max?” he asked, unable to help himself. “How?”

Alyssa coughed right as she took a bite of pizza.

“Yes,” she said, her face more purple than red. “Oh my god, why?”

Because she freaks me out.

Not worth it.

“Whatever,” Theo mumbled. “Is she nice to you, at least?”

Alyssa grinned, shooting him a look that made him want to take back his question, post haste.

“She’s more than nice. After the bar, she wrapped my legs around her waist—”

“Too much information. Too much .”

Now that image was seared inside his brain. As much as he liked Alyssa, he had didn’t want to hear what she let other people do to her.

The bleachers squeaked louder, old bolts protesting when the popular entourage piled around them. Decker’s body spray and Mr. Pretentious’ cologne were overpowering as hell.

“My throat is dying, Lyssa-poo,” Decker mumbled, leaning his head on Alyssa’s. “Can we switch jobs?”

Lyssa-poo?

Alyssa snickered. She dragged a strand of Decker’s long, dyed hair over her shoulder and tugged on it. “If you promise to pay me. Your girl doesn’t do free.”

“He couldn’t run if aliens were chasing him,” Mr. Pretentious said. “He’d last two seconds before collapsing into nothing. ”

Theo shoved the entire piece of pizza in his mouth, chewing through crust and pepperoni. “I agree with Ben-Ben.”

Decker fucking cackled . He clapped his hands. Hopped down from the top seat to squeeze right between Alyssa and Theo.

“I’ll keep you,” Decker said. “You’re a riot, broski.”

Mr. Pretentious glared at Theo over the top of the thin glasses. “It’s Benji. Not Ben-Ben.”

Well, screw me then, I didn’t know.

“Let him talk, Ben-Ben,” Decker said, still half-laughing. “Don’t be so sensitive.”

This was too much attention.

Theo’s face was on fire.

“Can you give me your car keys, Alyssa?” he asked, as quietly as he could.

Alyssa tossed them over, and he clomped down the bleachers, Decker’s voice fading the further away he got.

He spotted Max and Noah against the wall and he could’ve sworn Noah was looking right at him.

Noah stood up a little straighter and—

Shit , Noah was looking at him.

Then Max stepped in front of Noah. Blocking the view.

Thank god.

Alyssa’s car should’ve been considered a weapon of mass destruction. Seriously. Theo just needed two things .

Two things.

A hairpin and her earbuds.

The hairpin he found in literally two seconds; they were littered all over the damn floor like a salon exploded.

But the earbuds? Those were the fucking issue. Alyssa didn’t have them in her ears, which meant they were in her car.

Where was the big question.

Theo snapped open the glove compartment, slid his hands over the driver’s side visor, even looked inside that little section beneath the radio and air vents.

Jack shit.

“I’m gonna give up,” he mumbled to himself. He wiped the oil from god-knows-what on his hands onto his jeans. “Screw it. Not worth the headache.”

That’s when he found them. On the goddamn dashboard. In his defense, the dash and the earbuds were both matte black. They blended in.

It wasn’t his fault.

Theo had one foot outside of the car, keys dangling from his thumb, when he heard that voice.

“Hey there.”

Every hair on the back of his neck stood up.

That voice—too fucking familiar—hit like a crowbar to the spine. It rattled through his ribs, echoing in the hollow spots of his chest where breath used to go.

He turned his head slowly.

Maybe it wouldn’t be real if he didn’t rush it.

But it was.

Jagger stood under the flickering parking lot light like he’d never left, all casual smile and lazy posture, hands buried in the front pockets of his camo pants, like he didn’t have blood under his nails. Like the last six years hadn’t happened.

Like Theo hadn’t spent weeks in the fucking mental hospital. Years rebuilding whatever scraps were left of himself.

The only thing that had changed was the hair. Jagger used to have dreads. The cringe, white-boy kind. Now? He was shaved bald.

“I figured someone would drag your introverted ass here,” Jagger said with a laugh. “Was it Rachel?”

The world tilted again. The air was too thick—wet cotton shoved in his lungs—and he couldn’t move, couldn’t fucking breathe .

Theo gripped the earbuds tighter so they wouldn’t fall when his hands decided to take a break from reality.

Jagger stepped closer. “Damn, you look good. New glasses?” He tilted his head, grin widening like this was just some normal run-in. Like he had a right to smile.

Theo’s fingers twitched. His heart pounded against the inside of his skull, louder than his own thoughts.

Go away.

Go away, go away, go away.

“I have to go,” he whispered.

“Yeah. No big. I can hang out with you—”

“ No. We’re—we’re so far past over,” Theo took a breath. “So far past that. Don’t.”

It was supposed to be over.

That part of his life was supposed to be dead and buried .

Jagger sighed, like Theo was being dramatic. “You disappeared on me, Theo. Five minutes—”

It was too damn much.

Hearing his name out of Jagger’s mouth was too damn much.

Theo shoved past him.

He couldn’t stay.

Not one more second.

Not with that voice pulling ghosts from the floorboards.

His feet hit the pavement hard, fast, loud enough to drown out the pounding in his chest. He didn’t bother to shut Alyssa’s car. He didn’t stop when Jagger called after him. He didn’t even stop when his vision blurred.

He just ran.

Because if he stopped?

He’d scream. Or cry. Or break himself more than he already had.

Or maybe—

Maybe he’d stop and listen to whatever the fuck Jagger was trying to say.

And that was the scariest thought of all.