Page 132 of Stop and Seek
He didn’t need to tell Theo that he already knew the coffee was in the top cabinet—the one Theo had to stretch for, exposing that stripe of skin above his waistband. That shit was seared into his brain. Cups were by the microwave. The one with the melting smiley face was his favorite. Theo’s mouth always looked better drinking out of it.
After what he saw at the party…
Yeah.
The cameras had to fucking go.
Now.
It took threeseconds to grab the tiny camera from the top of the blinds—hidden behind the thick, tan slat—and crush it in his hand. Noah dropped the pieces into the trash, burying it under old slices of pizza and coffee grinds.
One down.
The other was in the bedroom and with Theo there… later. He’d get to it later.
The kitchen was dim, lit only by the glitchy bulb that belonged in a haunted house. It smelled like stale air, the faint memory of weed, and something distinctly Theo—oddly tropical, almost spicy under the surface.
Noah padded across the tile barefoot, moving like he belonged there. Because hedid, right? He knew every inch of this 600 square foot apartment.
He scooped the grounds in, slapped the machine to life. When it finished, he dumped in enough creamer to make it basically a milkshake. Stirred twice. Dropped the spoon in the sink.
It looked perfect. Coffee-flavored dessert. Forhisboy.
He arms crossed, grinning like a fucking idiot as steam curled up from the mug. His cheeks hurt. Literally hurt. This—this dumb morning thing—was better than anything he’d daydreamed.
Didn’t matter how little sleep he got. If it meant Theo waking up to him, to this… it was worth everything.
A shuffle of footsteps behind him. He didn’t have to turn to know Theo was watching him.
Noah held the mug up over his shoulder. “Made it just how you like it.”
“And how do you know how I like it?”
“Last Sunday.”
When Noah turned to hand him the cup, there wasn’t a hoodie or jacket this time. Theo had on asweatshirt, his face scrunched.
“You were at the table with Alyssa,” Noah continued. “You made coffee that looked kinda like milk? A gazillion packets of sugar? You remember this at all?”
Theo took the mug without answering, but he didn’t leave the kitchen. He leaned against the counter across from Noah, taking a sip so slowly Noah thought he might combust. His throat moved with the swallow.
After a moment, he licked his lips and put the coffee down. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Why—” Theo paused. Stared off into the space above Noah’s shoulder. “Why do you look like that?”
That wasn’t what Theo wanted to ask—that was obvious, even to Noah. But the question was weird as hell.
Noah forced out an awkward laugh. “Like what?”
“You remember the models that used to be in the malls? They’d try to get you into stores and shit?”
Noah nodded. Slow. Confused.
Theo ran his hands through his hair, doing that nervous smoothing thing. He patted the back of his head and Noah could feel the beginnings of a meltdown coming on.
He’s embarrassed. Don’t laugh. Even if it’s adorable.
