Page 5 of Stop and Seek (Our Childish Games #1)

Theo rolled his shoulders, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie. The gym had always been shitty, but somehow, under the lights of nostalgia, it felt worse . Like stepping onto an extra set from some bad B-movie. Too fake.

Chipped green paint—slathered over what used to be white brick—peeled in curled flakes, giving the walls a diseased, scabbed-over look.

It made the sterile tang in the air even more unbearable, hospital-grade disinfectant barely hiding decades of sweat and failure.

The overhead lights buzzed. A constant, low hum that itched at the edges of his hearing.

Clinical.

Just like the eighth floor psych wing.

Both times.

A shiver slid down his spine. It shouldn’t have been possible to feel cold in a hoodie in July—but here he was, nerves coiled tight in his stomach.

Music blared from the ancient sound system, warbling through decades-old speakers with frayed wiring. Theo didn’t recognize the song, but it felt like something that should’ve died when the CD player went out of style .

Sneakers sticking to the floor with every step, he could’ve sworn the bottoms were coated in a tacky layer of gum and god-knows-what.

Did they fire the janitor?

Did anyone ever actually clean these floors?

They probably hosed it down with bleach once a month and called it good. Didn’t help. Sock sweat and something cloying still lingered—syrupy soda, maybe, left to rot in a Gatorade bottle.

This is the biggest waste of my night.

But everyone else? They were having the time of their lives. Laughing and skipping around the gymnasium.

One of the Sterling twins clung to Decker, her designer bag flashing gold under the lights. Theo could spot his tall-ass from a mile away now.

A group of artsy girls hovered around a helium tank, giggling. The balloons they filled rose instantly, gathering near the rafters until they formed a bruise overhead—purple and yellow, pulsing like infection.

And then there was Noah.

East Bridge High’s golden boy. Star quarterback.

The crowd parted for him like he was royalty or something.

Theo could barely look at him without rolling his eyes. The dude somehow looked blonder than before, his skin that crispy kind of tan that made Theo think of fried chicken.

Jesus. Had no one moved on?

Hadn’t anyone grown the fuck up ?

This whole setup was some tired teenage daydream. Plastic cups, balloon arches, and cheap lighting. It was all so fucking cliché Theo could puke.

He’d always kept his distance from these circles. Too loud. Too cruel. He’d been bullied enough, thank you very much. No need for a second round.

And seriously? He should’ve known better. Should’ve trusted that gut instinct before the shit with Aaron spiraled.

But he knew more at twenty-eight than he did at eighteen.

“You looked pissed,” Ethan’s voice cut through Theo’s thoughts, stale beer breath wafting warm and sour against the side of his face. “You know everyone used to say you’d be the one to lose it.”

They’d had four beers—five, tops—and Ethan was gone . His version of plastered was more like Theo’s pre-game before a half-decent Saturday night. Nowhere near enough to numb anything. Or erase that split-second decision in the bathroom. The one still clinging to the back of Theo’s throat.

That orgasm high left behind only nerves.

“Lose what,” Theo asked, voice flat.

“Your shit , man.” Ethan grinned. “You remember the talk of you bringing a gun to school?”

Theo shook his head. No, he didn’t remember that—but the idea? It had crossed his mind more than once. One of his more screwed-up fantasies.

There were a lot of those now.

I guess I haven’t changed much, either.

“Ah, nostalgia,” Theo hummed. “I fucking hate it. Hate all of this. ”

Ethan burst into laughter. Too loud. Behind them, a plastic cup hit the floor with a wet thunk , and someone groaned.

“You,” Ethan gasped between snorts, “you are brutal. You need to chill a little.”

Chill out.

Be nicer.

Same lines Rachel always threw at him. Like honesty was a goddamn crime. Like people only wanted the fragments of him that didn’t make them uncomfortable.

He was always digging through himself, separating the parts that wouldn’t get him yelled at or sent straight to the cops.

Ethan’s giggle sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “I wonder if anyone spiked the punch.”

“Doesn’t taste like it.”

If someone had, maybe this hellscape would feel more bearable.

The buzz was wearing off. Fast. And in its place, a jittery, crawling sensation crept up Theo’s neck. His heart had picked up speed without warning.

He was fucking antsy now.

None of this was Ethan’s fault. But if he didn’t get out of here, he was going to say something that wasn’t just mean and bordered on no return.

“I’m getting some air,” Theo muttered, already turning away.

He’d clocked Alyssa on his way in—painted lips, fake lashes, hair high enough to touch god. If he was lucky, she’d have something green and reliable in her car.

Outside was already stickier than it had been minutes earlier. Muggy as hell. The kind of night where the air had literal weight. Moisture clung to his skin, slithered under his sleeves, and only got worse the longer he stood still.

“ The return of Sir Asshole! ” Alyssa sang, her voice carrying high over the bass thump leaking through the double doors

Rachel leaned against the railing, cigarette between two fingers, and offered him the smallest smile. “It’s packed, huh?”

“A zoo,” Theo agreed. He pressed his back against the cool brick wall, grateful for the rough bite of stone against his spine. It didn’t do much, but it was better than the swamp inside.

“Oh my god, did you see Maxine?” Alyssa asked, bouncing on her platform heels, spiked bracelets clinking. “Girl looks good, like good good. ”

So that’s which Sterling twin it was.

Theo nodded. “Her purse could pay my rent for a year. Must be nice.”

“Right? Ugh, I’d die to talk to her. She has this, like, cold bitch personality, but I’m sure she’s nice and fuzzy inside.”

Theo snorted, the laugh catching him off guard.

Nice and fuzzy? From someone who probably practiced smiling in the mirror?

Not likely.

Rachel caught his eye, a smirk tugging at her lips .

“Okay, Lyssa,” she murmured. She took one last drag, eyes squinting against the smoke, and ground the cigarette out on the wall.

“Whatev. You both are so mean to me.”

Before Alyssa could slip away, Theo reached out and caught her elbow.

“You got a sec? I’m about to head home.”

“Home? Why? ” Alyssa’s voice rose. “Kyran’s got this big thing planned. You’re not going anywhere, Sir Asshole.”

“I hate it here. The hallways keep me in a loop of the shit we had to go through. Screw Decker.”

The black wings painted on Alyssa’s face crinkled as she smiled, eyes wide with glitter and sweat. “Poetic, I guess,” she giggled, twisting her arm free. “Promise you’ll stay for like, an hour max. An hour, Theo. It’s not gonna kill you.”

“No—” he started, but Alyssa was already on him.

She grabbed his face with both hands, tugging him down until his glasses pressed awkwardly into her forehead.

“I have stuff in the car that will blow your mind, ” she whispered. “If you leave, Ray will wanna go too. Promise you’ll stay and your girl will hook you up. You owe me.”

Theo hesitated.

But the promise of something to dull the melty edges of his brain… that was too good to pass up.

Besides, what were they going to do? Crown a new prom king and queen? Swap war stories over senior photos?

“Fine,” he muttered, just loud enough to be heard over the sudden roar of a muffler from the parking lot. “One hour, and then I’m dragging you out by your extensions. ”

Alyssa beamed. “You do have a heart in there!”

“Aw, my kids are getting along. I’m touched.” Rachel wiped a fake tear from the corner of her eye. “Can we all go back into the A/C before I turn into a puddle? Please?”

Alyssa corralled him back inside, her tiny, grubby claws pressed firmly against his back like she thought he might bolt. He wasn’t planning on making a mad dash for it, but now he was stuck.

It only took a couple of minutes of weaving through the crowd before they spotted Ethan by the punch table, leaning on it like he might collapse from exhaustion or boredom.

Ethan and Rachel exchanged a high-five, already launching into that fast, half-shouted kind of conversation everyone adopted in loud rooms.

“How’s work?” Ethan asked.

“It’s good! I transferred into labor and delivery last year.”

“You gonna deliver my kid?”

“Carrie’s pregnant? Congrats, buddy.”

“Yeah! I thought Theo would’ve told you. Y’all see each other more.”

Theo blanched.

Okay, maybe it had slipped his mind.

He was a shit friend, sure, but—in his defense—kids weren’t his thing. Who in their right mind would want to bring some screeching, needy human into a world already this broken ?

“I wish they had coffee,” Ethan grumbled, rubbing his head.

“You that drunk?” Theo asked.

“No, man. I’m tired . My back’s killing me.”

“I feel you. I woke up from a nap and my knees cracked so hard I thought I broke something,” Alyssa added.

Theo’s eyes glazed over as the conversation shifted gears—straight into millennial complaints and crap sleep schedules.

There they were, back in their high school gym , talking about how old they felt.

The big 3-0 looming ever closer.

Hell no.

He didn’t need to be reminded of his age. Not when freshmen came into the library talking in slang that sounded like fucking Martian.

Then came the screech of the PA system—sudden, teeth-gritting.

“Is… is this thing on?” Decker’s voice crackled through the speakers, warped and sharp with feedback.

Someone screamed, “Yes!” and Decker’s laugh echoed across the gym ceiling, bouncing off metal bleachers and peeling banners.