Frequencies of Us Chapter 70: Rust and a Rush

Noah POV

In the garage, crouched by Dad’s old car, fiddling with the radio. The air’s thick, greasy, and my chest feels tight, pounding slow. Mateo’s gone, dumped me, and I’m lost, hurting bad without him. My fingers twist wires, sparking little jolts, but my head’s stuck on him, always him. I lean back, sitting on the cold floor, and my gut flips, warm, needing him close.

I climb up, pop the hood, and lean over, hands brushing metal. My shorts get tight, stiffening fast, and I can’t hold it—miss him too much. I unzip, quick, tugging them down, and my dick jumps out, thick and full. I grip it, firm, and rub slow, picturing Mateo’s hands on me, sliding over my skin. “Need you,” I gasp, soft, fist picking up speed, heat flaring quick.

I pump harder, imagining his fingers wrapping me, tugging fast, his breath hot on my neck. My throat catches, rough, and I see his lips crashing into mine, deep and wet. “Mateo,” I groan, loud, fist flying, sparks shooting in my belly. My thumb smears the tip, wet and slippery, and my legs buckle, craving him wild. I picture him shoving me down, slamming into me, rough and fierce. My hips jerk, pushing into my hand, and I rasp, “Need you,” voice splitting, raw.

Metal creaks under me, cool on my skin, and I jack off faster, hearing his grunts, feeling his grip tighten. My dick throbs, pulsing hot, and I see him bursting inside me, tipping me over. My fist squeezes, fast, tight, and I spill, wet and fast, dripping down the hood, splattering steel. I slump forward, weak, panting loud, trembling over the car. My ribs crush in, empty now, and I sag, chest thumping, wanting him back.

I pull my shorts up, slow, sticky mess on my hand, and my insides feel hollow, cold without him. My eyes blur, burning sharp, and I blink hard, mad at myself, mad at him for leaving. He thinks I want Jamie, but it’s him, only him. My skin buzzes, still hungry, and I kick the tire, soft, aching deep. I wipe my hand on a rag, shaky, needing him here, needing us fixed.

I’m inside later, washing dishes, when Dad stomps in, boots loud on the floor. My gut sinks, chill creeping up, and he slams the table, face red. “Noah, you’re pushing me,” he yells, voice hard, and my chest squeezes, tight. “Military school, that’s where you’re going,” he says, pointing at me, and my blood boils, fast, furious. “I won’t go!” I shout, loud, dropping the plate, water splashing everywhere.

He steps close, grabs my shirt, and says, “You don’t decide!” My pulse races, wild, and I shove him off, yelling, “Leave me alone!” I bolt, fast, slamming the door, feet pounding outside. My lungs sear, mad as hell, scared he’ll drag me away. I run down the street, chest heaving, and feel trapped, lost, needing Mateo to pull me out. My knees wobble, weak, and I slow, panting, fear biting deep.

I sit on the curb, night cool around me, hands damp on my lap. My phone buzzes, soft, and I pull it out, pulse jumping quick. It’s Jamie, texting, “Meet me tonight,” and my stomach twists, guilt slamming in. I see his kiss, him grabbing me, and my throat closes, mad at him, mad at me for letting it mess us up. I shove the phone back, fast, not answering, but my chest aches, heavy, scared Mateo thinks it’s real.

I wander home, slow, head spinning with Dad’s threat, Jamie’s text. Kids’ voices fade, streets quiet, and I feel alone, cut off without him. My ribs hurt, Mateo’s ghost all over me, and I kick a rock, hard, mad at everything falling apart. I need him back, crave him bad, but he’s gone, and I’m stuck, sinking, dread growing. My fingers flex, restless, and I climb the porch, quiet, needing sleep, needing peace.

Then my phone buzzes again, loud in the dark, snapping me awake. I yank it out, fingers shaky, and see Jamie’s name again. My breath stalls, quick, but before I can read it, I hear footsteps, fast, behind me. I spin, heart thumping wild, and Jamie’s there, grabbing my arm, tight. “Noah,” he says, voice low, urgent, and my gut plummets, chill rushing in. “I told Lena everything,” he whispers, eyes wide, and my pulse quits, terror flooding fast.

I jerk back, yelling, “What?” but he holds on, saying, “She knows it all.” My chest caves, crushed, and I shove him, hard, mad, scared. Headlights flare, bright, cutting the night, and a car roars up, fast, close. My legs freeze, locked, and Jamie pulls me, saying, “Run!” My throat burns, stuck, and I hear tires screech, loud, bearing down, ready to smash us flat.