Page 154 of Stop and Seek
Not that he was checking his phone every ten minutes or anything. Not that he’d left their texts open like it might magically change reality.
His eyes skimmed the lock screen anyway.
Theo pulled the blanket over his lap, fingers twisting in the thick yarn. Drinking would’ve been great, but there was nothing in his apartment except near expired creamer and a two liter of flat soda.
Pills? No chance. Alyssa was rationing them off like he was some junkie raccoon that showed up at her window, rubbing his paws together and demanding Cheerios.
Driving was also a no-go. He’d blown through a red light on the way home and couldn’t even remember what intersection it was.
So… bed. That was the last option. Bed meant maybe he’d wake up when Noah called, or Calvin replied, or the universe decided to stop kicking him in the teeth.
Cold side of the pillow.
Air conditioner so low it probably had icicles hanging off it.
He was just starting to drift—mind foggy, eyelids heavy—when he heard the lock turning. The front door creaking open and then closing again.
It had to be Rachel. She’d been doing drop-ins all week, playingmotherwhen he was too out of it to argue. Normally, she didn’t stay long. Peek in, verify he wasn’t face-down in a puddle of blood or vomit, and vanish again.
Not tonight. Please. Not tonight.
He yanked the blanket over his head and curled onto his side, hoping she’d get the hint. The universal sign forfuck off, I’m unconscious.
But the mattress dipped behind him. Springs groaned.
Heavy weight. Not cautious. Not soft.
Rachel never sat on the bed. Nevertouchedhim. And her arm had never feltthatheavy.
Theo pushed down the cover, and the first wave of panic hit him when he smelled the booze.
Rachel would never drink and drive. She bitched at him about it all the time.
His heart fucking stuttered.
“Rachel?” he tried, swallowing past the terror twisting his gut.
“I missed you so much, baby.”
Theo couldn’t move a muscle. His whole body locked up, rigid beneath the blanket.
How had Noah gotten into his apartment?
Better yet, why the fuck did he smell like he’d beenmarinatingin a vat of alcohol? Tequila and rum and beer turned the air sweet and too-stale, acidic in the darkness.
“I missed you so bad I can’ fuckin’ stand it,” Noah murmured, thick and slurred, lips pressed into the back of Theo’s head.
Theo watched the headlights through the blinds as Noah shifted behind him, rustling the blanket aside. His arm slid around Theo’s waist, pulling him close. Then his face—damp with sweat or maybe just the heat of drunkenness—buried into Theo’s neck. Stubble scraped his skin. The smell was worse now. Iron and sour, like he hadn’t showered in forever.
Theo wanted to run. Wanted to fight or yell. But everything inside him had shut down, toothpicks holding his eyes open.
His voice barely made it out, “What are you doing here?”
Wrong. All of this was wrong.
The sheets were too warm where Noah touched him, but his own skin felt icy, clammy beneath the thick sweatshirt.
And the key. How thefuckdid Noah have a key?
