Frequencies of Us Chapter 41: Notes and a No

Mateo POV

I’m in the locker room, the air damp and loud, my hands shoving my gym bag open. My chest feels tight, shaky, since yesterday under the bleachers. Noah kissed me, slow and sure, and I whispered, “This is us,” but jocks yelled, breaking it, leaving me jumpy. That word, “Hold,” stuck with me all night, soft and warm, pulling me to him. Now I’m here, getting ready for practice, my gut twisting, hot and tense, because he’s close in my head, and I want him, even after the mess.

Something crinkles, soft and odd, under my towel. My heart thumps, loud and fast, and my hands shake, digging in quick. It’s a note, folded tight, scribbled messy. My stomach flips, cold and wild, and my face burns, hot and sudden, because it’s weird, wrong, and my chest tightens, scared to look. I open it, fingers trembling, and my breath catches, stuck in my throat. “Noah’s done with you,” it says, short and sharp, and my heart slams, loud and wild, because it’s him, my Noah, and my gut twists, sour and raw, breaking fast.

My hands shake, bad now, crumpling the paper, and my face burns hotter, red and sweaty, because it fits, yeah, after the yelling, after me running. My chest locks up, air gone, and my head buzzes, his kiss, this note, spinning wild, tearing me up. I believe it, deep down, and my throat gets tight, dry and sore, because he’s done, maybe, and my stomach drops, cold and hollow, hurting bad. My breath puffs, loud and quick, and my legs move, fast and shaky, needing him, needing to know.

I find him, in the hall by his locker, books in hand, and my gut twists, hot and fast. My heart slams, loud and wild, and my face burns, red and wild, because he’s here, real, but my head’s screaming, note in my pocket, breaking me. I stomp over, quick and mad, my sneakers squeaking loud, and my chest heaves, shaky and raw, because it’s big, too big, and I’m scared, mad, falling apart. “We’re over!” I yell, voice loud, rough, throwing the note at him, and my hands shake, bad now, because it’s out, done, and my heart hurts, hollow and fast.

He freezes, eyes wide, paper hitting his chest, and my stomach flips, warm and wild, because he’s stunned, caught, and my chest flutters, steamy and tense, watching him break too. “What?” he says, voice cracking, low, grabbing the note quick, and my heart skips, loud and fast, because he’s confused, maybe lying, and my gut twists, cold and raw, doubting him, hating this. My breath shakes, loud in my ears, and my face burns hotter, because it’s us, crashing, and my chest aches, pulling tight.

“It’s not mine!” he yells, voice loud, sharp, stepping closer, and my heart slams, loud and wild, because he’s mad, real mad, and my hands clench, shaky and dumb, because he’s fighting, denying, but I believe it, yeah, and it’s killing me. “I didn’t write this!” He holds it up, paper shaking, and my gut flips, steamy and fast, because his eyes are wet, hurt, and my chest locks up, air stuck, because he’s saying no, but my head’s loud, Lena’s smirk flashing, tearing me apart.

“Then who did?” I snap, voice rough, loud, shoving him back, and my heart thumps, wild and fast, because I’m mad, scared, and my face burns, red and sweaty, breaking more. “You’re done, right? Sick of me!” My chest heaves, my gut twisting, because it’s spilling, raw and dumb, and my hands shake, bad now, grabbing my hair, because I’m hollow, yeah, and my throat’s tight, hurting deep, believing he’s gone, believing it’s true.

“I’m not!” he shouts, voice cracking, loud, stepping forward, and my stomach flips, hot and fast, because he’s close, too close, and my chest aches, steamy and raw, feeling his fight, doubting it still. “Someone’s messing with us, Mateo!” His hands fly up, quick and shaky, and my heart jumps, loud and wild, because he’s raw, real, and my gut twists, warm and wild, wanting him, breaking anyway. My breath puffs, loud and quick, and my face burns, red and wild, because he’s here, yelling, but I’m done, walking away.

“I can’t,” I mutter, voice low, rough, turning fast, and my sneakers pound tile, quick and shaky, because my chest’s hollow, hurting, and my head buzzes, his yell, that note, spinning wild. My hands shove into my hoodie, sweaty and trembling, and my heart slams, loud and fast, because he’s back there, stunned, but I believe it, yeah, and it’s steamy, tearing me up, leaving me empty. My breath shakes, my face hot, and my throat’s tight, words stuck, because I want him, still, but it’s over, breaking me bad.

He calls, “Mateo!” loud and rough, fading behind, and my gut twists, hot and wild, because he’s fighting, wanting, but my heart thumps, slow and hollow, pulling tight. My chest aches, steamy and raw, and my legs move, fast and dumb, because I’m hurt, deep down, and he’s there, yelling, but I’m gone, believing her lie, breaking us. My hands shake, restless, gripping my hoodie, and my breath puffs, loud and quick, because it’s love, yeah, and I’m losing it, hurting bad.

The hall quiets, just echoes, my steps, and my chest feels tight, my gut twisting, because he’s back there, real, but my head’s loud, note burning in my mind, making me jumpy. My heart slams, loud and wild, and my face burns, red and sweaty, because I’m hollow, yeah, and my throat’s sore, dry and stuck, wanting him back, scared he’s gone. My breath shakes, my legs slow, and my hands clench, sweaty and shaky, because I could turn, yeah, but I don’t, too hurt, too broken.

Then it rustles, a soft crinkle, low and close, from my pocket. My head tilts, heart jumping fast, and my hand digs in, slow and shaky, pulling out the crumpled note again, messy and real. My gut twists, warm and steamy, and my hands shake, bad now, holding it tight, because it’s dumb, yeah, but heavy, pulling me back to him. My breath catches, stuck in my throat, and I stop, legs shaky, because it’s us, maybe, and it’s big, hitting me hard. My phone buzzes, soft and quick, making me jump.

I yank it out, hands trembling, unknown number, one word: “Truth.” My chest flutters, hot and wild, and my eyes flick to the note, shaking in my grip, pulling tight. My heart slams, loud and fast, and my breath shakes, steamy and alive, because it’s us, here, now, caught in the mess. The note crinkles, soft and sharp, folding in my hand, and my gut twists, warm and wild, because it’s him, out there, and I’m hollow, waiting, with something sweet and steamy rustling in the air.