Page 18 of Stop and Seek (Our Childish Games #1)

They were all perfect-shaped, and his corners didn’t exactly smooth out.

The burn in his eyes was the most embarrassing part.

As Noah parked the car, Theo had almost shaken off the urge to crawl into a hole and never come back out.

“Are you going to invite me up?” Noah asked, sliding the key out from the ignition .

“You piss me off— tell me you realize this. Did the steroids mess with your brain?”

“Do I? Really? What happened in the classroom tells a different story.”

Theo scoffed. “You came onto me, not the other way around.”

“You got me there.” Noah paused. Laughed. “But I think you came on me .”

Theo clicked the seat belt off. He popped his fingers.

Nothing he said ever irritated Noah. No matter how much he tried. Like he was talking to a happy, perverted, brick wall that spat bad sexual innuendos whenever it felt like it.

Any other time, he would’ve been all for that.

Theo turned in the seat, Pepsi bottle in the middle console digging into his knee. “Why’d you tell me Alyssa asked you to take me home last night? She didn’t.”

Noah leaned back, chewing on his thumbnail. He ran his other hand over the steering wheel, and the pause lasted longer than it should have.

Did the why actually matter?

No.

People who lied once kept lying. They always did. Watching them grapple for excuses, digging themselves deeper into a pile of bullshit—it felt good.

Was it a power trip? Maybe.

“I wanted to get to know you after I realized who you were,” Noah finally said. “You knew me, and I—I didn’t know you.”

“Could have fucking asked me.”

Noah dropped his hands to his lap. He turned his head to meet Theo’s eyes.

“You would’ ve said no, so I… didn’t.”

There was no smug smirk, no sarcastic undertone.

There wasn’t anything .

He was dead serious.

And that was fucked up.

Screw all of Theo’s weird kinks, shitty habits— all the reckless crap he’d done. It paled in comparison.

Theo squinted. Waited for Noah to backtrack. Apologize. Maybe burst out laughing.

Nothing came.

Doing something knowing it would fuck with someone—and not giving a single shit? There weren’t harsh enough words, and he was having a hard time seeing straight.

Theo yanked open the car door, slamming it with so much force it echoed.

Trying to get the keys from his pocket was a fucking wild ride when he couldn’t stop shaking. His chest was too tight, and all he wanted was to go inside his apartment and lose himself in anything else.

Noah’s car door shut behind him.

Theo didn’t turn around.

Didn’t look.

Not until Noah’s hand clamped down on his elbow.

Something must have broke inside of his head. Maybe it was the last, struggling part of his damn sanity.

One minute, he was opening the front door to his building.

The next thing he knew, he was shoving Noah down the two steps that led up—and his fist was driving straight into Noah’s mouth .

It didn’t stop there.

Theo followed him down.

Tackled him.

Straddled Noah’s hips and hit him again.

And again.

The sound was disgusting—wet and heavy, knuckles splitting on bone, Noah’s head thudding against the pavement.

But he didn’t fight back. Not once.

Until, finally, Noah’s hands came up—not to punch, not to shove, but to catch Theo’s wrists.

He held them tight. Firm.

Theo’s chest heaved, sweat burning in his eyes, fists trembling and slick.

And Noah just laid there. Bleeding.

His lip split open, red seeping down his chin. One of his cheekbones already starting to swell.

Theo swallowed hard, pulse roaring in his ears.

“Jesus,” Noah mumbled. “You—” He turned his head, spit out a mouthful of something pink and shiny. “—you feel better now? You hit like a damn truck.”

Theo should’ve said sorry—should’ve apologized a dozen different ways.

Because, seriously? Noah didn’t deserve that. Theo had meant to shove him off not… this.

His gaze dropped to the blood, the bruises, the absolute fucking wreck he’d made—and for a split second, it did something to him.

Something wrong.

Something hot .

He liked the way Noah looked right now. Raw. Hurt. Still staring up at him like Theo hung the goddamn moon.

Stop it. Stop it right now.

Apologize.

Holy shit, say something.

Sweat—or tears—blurred his vision, and all he could do was watch Noah swim in and out of focus.

“It’s alright, baby,” Noah said after another moment. “I’m gonna let go now, okay? Can you stand?”

Something must have clicked back into place in Theo’s head—he could almost hear it snap together.

“I—I’m… uh….” Theo licked his lips.

What the hell was he supposed to say again?

Are you okay, seemed really stupid. Obviously, Noah wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered instead.

His heart was still going too fast when Noah released his grip.

Theo stood, slowly, holding onto the brick to keep himself steady.

Noah followed. Less slow. He smeared his hands over his face, looked down at them, then wiped them on the black shorts.

“You ever think about getting into boxing?” he asked, laughing.

How the fuck was he laughing ? Noah should’ve been pissed, or at least angry—not…

“I gotta go,” Theo said, faster than he meant to. The words came out all at once.

He heard Noah saying something, but it meshed together with the shit in his head, and he couldn’t pick it apart .

Pulling open the front door, he bolted up the stairs two at a time. Holding onto the railing for dear life. He wasn’t shaking when he jammed the key into the lock. His heart wasn’t pounding anymore.

There was just a sense of eerie calm, and that? That was worse than losing control a minute ago.

Theo shoved the door closed behind him. The ceiling fan jumped. He leaned the back of his head against the wood, forcing air through his nose, out his mouth—big deep breaths, until he felt more like himself.

At least, closer to himself.

Except, when his eyes focused?

Yeah—no.

This wasn’t right, either.

What happened to my apartment?

Nothing on the floor. The carpet was light brown again, not the dirty, dingy color it had been this morning. If he didn’t look at the blood stain by the bathroom—it was brand new.

Well, his keys worked. This wasn’t someone else’s place he’d accidentally broken into.

But this place? It wasn’t his apartment.

His kitchen had been a disaster zone when he left, stacks of dishes threatening to fall. That was gone. The whole place smelled like lemon wood polish and disinfectant.

What—

Who—

Who the hell cleaned it?

No one else had a damn key except —

Rachel.

But she’d been at work.

Even if he wanted to blame her, she wouldn’t have been so thorough. The blanket on the couch looked like it had been ironed, and who did that?

He debated calling 911, but what would he even say?

Yes, operator, someone broke into my apartment and deep cleaned it without my consent. I’m traumatized and require help.

It had to be Rachel.

Theo dug out his phone and tapped on her contact. The ringing dragged on for an eternity before she answered.

“Two minutes, Teddy.”

“Were you in my apartment?”

Rachel clicked her tongue, and he could almost see her rolling her eyes. “Only when I came to check on you. Did you find a mouse friend again?”

“I’m serious,” he cradled the phone against his shoulder, running his fingers along the dustless, sparkling counters. “It wasn’t like, a prank or something? Did I win the lottery of a selfless act of kindness, or whatever?”

“ What’s a prank? What the hell are you talking about?”

“The… all of it, I guess.”

There was a pause, and then, “Are you high?”

“No! Rachel, please. Have you been in here?”

Theo could hear the mechanical, I didn't catch that, of the pager on her shoulder. Then her muffled voice talking to someone else, offering a string of apologies.

“I have to go,” Rachel whispered. “I’ll text you later. Just—try to sleep off whatever you took.”

The line went dead, and he spent a long time staring at it .

What was worse?

Near-blacking out and beating someone?

Or coming home and not recognizing the place that’s supposed to be your safe haven?

Theo couldn’t figure that out.