Page 20 of Stop and Seek (Our Childish Games #1)

There was no chance Noah was falling back asleep. He tried. Really. Got comfy, closed his eyes—even tucked his hands under the pillow like that would make a difference.

It didn’t.

Within five minutes, he was grinning at his phone, rereading every weird-ass message Theo had sent him. One literally just said “eye time.” What the hell was eye time ? He’d have to ask. Eventually.

The protein bar and banana didn’t help—he couldn’t taste it. Wasn’t hungry.

Neither did hitting the hotel gym until he was sweating through his shirt.

Shower didn’t help either.

By the time he’d paced every inch of the fifth floor—like a fucking lunatic—he was about to give up on staying here.

He was wired .

Shaky, even.

It felt like his whole body was begging him to move.

To do something.

Preferably someone.

Specifically: Theo.

He was this close— this close —to getting in his car and showing up at Theo’s place. To see him. Make sure he was okay.

Consequences could suck it.

Then Max showed up, muttering curses and stabbing her card key into the slot.

“Did you have fun?” Noah asked, sliding his own card.

The front desk guy had fixed his key earlier, looking two seconds from tears when Noah explained the issue. Poor dude probably thought the Sterlings would come after him personally.

“We did, yeah,” Max mumbled, shoving the door open. “Went to a hookah lounge. Then a bar that served food that didn’t kill us.”

“Damn. Goth Dolly’s corrupting you. You ate grease? And carbs? Was cheese involved?” Noah teased. He caught the shirt she tossed at his face.

“You’re too fucking loud right now, dial it down to a one.” Max sighed, rummaging through her suitcase for clothes.

“What’d you do last night?” she asked, too casual. He knew that tone. “Do I need to call anyone?”

“I stayed in.”

She froze, then shot him a look. “Sure, Noah. The way you’re acting? Says otherwise. Trust me. ”

“You want my location history? I can print it for you. Frame it.”

“I’m not your mom.” She shoved her legs into a pair of ridiculous pants. “Don’t be a dick.”

Noah shook his head.

Fighting with Max when she hadn’t slept was his least favorite thing.

Instead, he watched her yank a price-tag off a top, tuck it into her bottoms, and check her reflection in the wall mirror.

“Remember what I told you,” she added, voice a little lower.

Yeah. Like he’d ever forget it.

“Gold or silver?” Max asked, holding up two identical pairs of earrings. He glanced at her outfit, then back to the earrings.

“Gold?”

Maybe it was the right answer. Maybe not. But she looked pleased.

Max didn’t say anything for a while, and Noah wasn’t about to push his luck. She smoothed down the collar of her shirt. Leaned closer to the mirror, then farther away.

Finally, she turned to face him. Her gaze flicked up and her lip curled.

“We are literally leaving in like, ten minutes. You’re going to go out looking like that. Are you kidding me . Did you run out of gel, or are you just lazy?”

Here we go.

Max-mode: activated. Overbearing and nit-picky.

Yeah, she was his boss , but she’d been his friend first.

Noah didn’t bother arguing. That never ended well. Changing the topic was like diffusing a bomb before it could blow.

“Alyssa is sweet. Are you planning to fly her out when we’re back in Cali?” he asked .

Max smeared on lip balm, staring at him as if he’d asked the dumbest question known to man.

“Really? Oh my god, you’re serious.” She laughed. “ No . God, no. She’s fine for bumfuck Ohio, but can you imagine her in New York, or Milan? Pass. I don’t want to be embarrassed.”

“Damn, Max.”

She turned back to the mirror. “She’s cute. But she could lose fifty or sixty pounds. Holy shit, can you imagine bringing her to brunch with Candy? Candy would rip her to shreds . Alyssa would kill herself, and I have enough blood on my hands thanks to you.”

Noah flinched.

Max didn’t even blink when she fluffed her hair. “I look like something the cat dragged in.”

“You look fine,” Noah said automatically. “Stop sweating.”

He squeezed her shoulders, and she relaxed a little.

Max would always be Max. No matter how many people told her she looked like a high fashion, runway model, she’d find something she hated about herself. And everyone else.

Leaving Noah to deal with the fallout.

This was a waste of time.

He should’ve gotten into the car and drove to Theo’s when he had the chance.

The car ride back to Eunice might as well have lasted a hundred hours. Benji was MIA, and that left Noah alone with Max and Kyran, who seemed hellbent on screaming directly into each other’s faces the entire time.

“You have to be in more vids, Sterling. I will frickin’ pay you next time.”

Max turned around in the front seat, her hands hanging over. “What? Did we hit a milestone for your little channel?”

“Little channel. Pfft. Show some respect. My presence is all consuming,” Kyran snickered. “We broke fifty million views. In eight hours.”

Noah barely looked up. He was chewing on his bottom lip, thumbing through his phone, eyes going back to the road every few seconds.

He’d texted Theo a casual “did you sleep?” earlier. Something people said all the time.

But when an actual reply came through—a thumbs-up emoji—Noah felt like he was having a cardiac event.

His heart did a little backflip every time his screen lit up.

Theo’s texts were short— yea, no, lol —but they were replies.

That meant Theo was thinking about him.

That meant everything .

Max and Kyran were laughing, but it all faded to static behind the rush of blood in Noah’s ears. The only thing that mattered was the next message.

There was a real connection between them, even when Theo was sober.

Sure, Theo was distant, but maybe that’s just how he worked. Maybe it was a test. Maybe he didn’t want anyone else close.

“How you’re into the dude from Dead Poet’s Society is beyond me,” Max said—and then snatched the phone right out of his lap.

Noah’s hands clenched the steering wheel so tight the leather creaked.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

She was his friend. She was how he made money. They needed each other.

Max wasn’t the enemy.

But jesus did he want to launch her into oncoming traffic.

“What’s poppin’?” The side of Kyran’s head came into view when he leaned forward, looking over Max’s shoulder.

“Max, leave my pistachio turtle alone,” Noah gritted out.

“Your?” she shot back.

Kyran settled back in the seat.

Good.

One less person to worry about.

“Give it back. I mean it.”

Max snorted. “No? No, I won’t. You’re acting all twitchy when you have your phone.”

Noah white-knuckled the wheel, nails digging in. The noise of midday traffic barely registered over the static inside his head.

He just wanted his phone.

He just wanted her to shut up.

“He’s not even cute. And this dumbass is over here ogling his texts like some lovesick teenager. For what? Let’s be honest, he wouldn’t give you the time of day unless you were the last person alive.”

Still.

Fucking.

Talking.

“What do you want to bet Theo sent him a heart emoji one time and this is how we got in this fucking mess?” Max laughed. “I bet if I scroll up—”

Noah didn’t think.

His hand shot across the center console and latched onto Max’s wrist in a death grip. The car veered, tires screaming as they crossed the line into the next lane.

“ Enough ,” Noah hissed, and for a second, the world outside—horns blaring, someone shouting—faded into the background. “This is the last damn time I’ll say it. Give it back. Now .”

Max yanked her arm away with a scoff. “Relax,” she muttered, tossing the phone into the cup holder. “I was messing with you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyran whispered from the back.

Noah glanced up at the rear-view mirror. Kyran was plastered against the seat, paler than a sheet of paper, fiddling with the braid in his hair.

Noah let out a long, ragged breath. His grip on the wheel loosened just a bit.

He might’ve gone too far. Maybe.

Max was twisting her rings, throwing him that familiar I’ll-kill-you-the-second-we’re-alone glare, and Kyran looked like he was praying for a teleportation button.

Even the AC sounded anxious.

But Theo wasn’t some joke. He wasn’t a weekend project, or some guy. He was everything. He mattered. More than these two could ever understand.

And if anyone— anyone —reduced Theo to a joke again, Noah didn’t care if it meant jail time. He’d rip the roof off the goddamn car.

By the time they reached East Bridge, Noah felt… mostly human again. His breathing had settled, chest rising steady. It didn’t feel like he was going to slam his head through the windshield.

But the heat was still there. Low. Crawling in his stomach like a live wire.

Smiling was easy enough.

But one wrong comment and he’d snap again.

He could’ve crashed the car. Actually done it. Killed all three of them in one angry blur. That would’ve been dramatic as hell.

Heiress and co. lose their lives on the I-90.

The kind of headline that gets buried under celebrity breakups and football stats. They wouldn’t even say his name for a few pages.

As soon as they parked, Kyran bolted like the seat burned him. He yelled something that sounded like a quote. Probably a Disney movie.

Whatever. Noah wasn’t listening.

“You want to stay in the car?” Max asked, blowing out a thin stream of smoke. She didn’t look at him, her eyes fixed on something outside. “You still haven’t collected. You could go back to the hotel, maybe open up the monitors instead of your phone—”

“And miss all the fun?” Noah interrupted. “It’s the last day of festivities. Are you putting me in time-out?”

She flicked ash out the window and shrugged. “I should.”

“Don’t be so sour. I’ll apologize if you will.”

“Excuse me?” Her head snapped toward him. Mouth open, eyebrows climbing. “What—what am I apologizing for, Noah?”

Oh, he definitely said the wrong thing. Whoops.