Frequencies of Us Chapter 35: Threads and a Text

Mateo POV

I’m in my room, the air quiet and warm, my hands digging through my gym bag on the floor. My chest’s tight, heavy, since yesterday at the track—Noah yelling, “Why’re you running from me?” and my snap, “I’m not ready!” ringing in my ears, leaving me raw and messed up. His whisper—“I thought you felt it too”—cut me deep, steamy and soft, pulling me to him all night, but hurting bad. Now I’m here, alone, my gut twisting, hot and dumb, because I pushed him away—again—and it’s eating me, needing him back.

My fingers brush something—soft, worn—and I pull it out, slow, my heart slamming, loud and fast. It’s Noah’s jacket—gray, frayed cuffs—left from sparring last week, tangled in my stuff. My stomach flips, warm and wild, and my face burns, hot and sudden, because it’s his—smells like him, sweat and soap—and my chest flutters, steamy and raw, feeling him close, even now. My breath catches, stuck in my throat, and my hands shake, holding it tight, because it’s dumb—small—but it’s him, and it’s big, pulling me in, hard.

I slip it on—slow, shaky—the sleeves loose, warm on my skin, and my heart skips, loud and wild, because it’s like he’s here—wrapping me up—and my gut twists, steamy and fast, missing him bad. My face burns hotter, red and sweaty, and my legs move—restless, dumb—pacing the room, because it’s flirty—real, close—and my chest aches, love maybe, hitting me deep. My hands grip the cuffs—soft, his—and my throat tightens, dry and stuck, because I messed up—ran, yelled—and I want him, need him, more than I can say.

I stop—quick, shaky—my breath puffing loud, and my eyes flick to my phone—on the bed, quiet, heavy. My heart slams, wild and fast, and my gut flips, warm and wild, because I could—could fix it, could try—and it’s big, pulling tight. My hands shake, bad now, grabbing it—cold, smooth—and my fingers tap—fast, messy—typing, “Sorry, I’m an ass,” before I think too hard. My chest locks up, air gone, and my face burns, red and wild, because it’s out—raw, dumb—and my heart jumps, banging hard, waiting, scared he’ll hate me, scared he won’t.

The screen glows—quiet, still—and my legs wobble—weak, dumb—sinking onto the bed, the jacket soft under me. My breath’s loud, uneven, and my gut twists, steamy and raw, because he’s out there—hurt, maybe—and I did that, pushed him, and it’s killing me, tearing me up. My hands shake, gripping the phone—sweaty, tight—and my head buzzes—his whisper, my snap—replaying, making me jumpy. My chest aches, hot and wild, and my throat’s tight, because I like him—yeah, I do—and it’s big, freaking me out, but pulling me back.

It buzzes—sharp, quick—and my heart slams, loud and fast, my stomach flipping, hot and fast. My hands shake, bad now, swiping it open—Noah: “Yeah, you are”—and my chest drops, cold and raw, because it’s true—I am—and it stings, hitting me deep. My breath catches, stuck in my throat, and my face burns hotter, red and sweaty, because he’s mad—maybe done—and my gut twists, steamy and scared, losing him, needing him still. Then it buzzes again—soft, quick—and my eyes flick down—a smiley, small and dumb, glowing under his words.

My chest flutters—warm, wild—and my heart skips, loud and fast, because it’s him—softening it, teasing—and my gut flips, steamy and flirty, pulling me in. My face burns, my breath shaky, and my hands tremble—light, dumb—holding the phone tight, because it’s good—real, close—and my throat loosens, just a bit, aching less. My heart slams, wild and fast, and my gut twists, warm and wild, because he’s not gone—not yet—and it’s flirty, hitting me hard, making me want, making me hope.

I grin—small, shaky—my fingers brushing the jacket cuffs, soft and his, and my chest aches, steamy and raw, because it’s us—messy, real—and it’s pulling tight. My breath puffs, loud and quick, and my legs shift—restless, dumb—because I could—could text more, could say it—but my throat’s tight, words stuck, scared to push, scared to lose. My heart jumps, loud and wild, and my gut flips, warm and fast, because it’s love—yeah, love—and it’s big, digging in, leaving me shaky, needing him close.

The room’s quiet—just my breathing, the hum of the house—and my head’s buzzing—his smiley, my sorry—replaying, making me jumpy. My chest’s tight, my face hot, and my hands grip the jacket—sweaty, shaky—because he’s out there—teasing, maybe waiting—and it’s steamy, pulling me in, deep. My heart slams, loud and fast, and my gut twists, warm and wild, because I want him—bad, always—and it’s big, freaking me out, but good, lighting me up.

I slump back—slow, shaky—the bed creaking soft, and my chest aches, steamy and raw, because he’s close—in this jacket, in that text—and my throat tightens, dry and stuck, wanting to say more, wanting him here. My hands shake, restless, brushing my face—sweaty, hot—and my breath’s loud, uneven, because it’s him—always him—and I’m sorry, yeah, but hopeful, needing him back. My phone sits—heavy, warm—in my lap, and my gut flips, steamy and quick, because it’s us—fixing, maybe—and it’s pulling me, hard, leaving me caught.

Then it ticks—a soft click, low and warm, from the clock on my wall. My head snaps up, heart jumping, and my eyes squint—hands moving, slow and flirty, ticking loud in the quiet. My gut twists, warm and steamy, and my hands grip the jacket—sweaty, shaky—because it’s off—too perfect, too alive—like yesterday, that buzz, that glow. My breath catches, stuck in my throat, and I grin—small, dumb—because it’s them—those texts, that tease—but it’s sweet, wrapping me close. My phone buzzes, sudden and soft, making me flinch.

I swipe it—hands trembling—unknown number, one line: “He’s wearing you too.” My chest flutters, hot and wild, and my eyes flick to the jacket—his, mine now—pulling tight. My heart slams, loud and fast, and my breath shakes, steamy and alive, because it’s us—here, now—caught in the tick. The clock clicks—slow, soft—dancing through the room, and my gut twists, warm and wild, because it’s him—close, always—and I’m shaky, waiting, with something sweet and steamy ticking in the air.