Frequencies of Us Chapter 74: Tape and a Tremble

Noah POV

I’m kneeling in the locker room at Lincoln High, taping Mateo’s sprained ankle. My fingers stay on his skin, warm and smooth. I trace a scar from a bad track fall last year. He looks down at me, eyes dark. “You’re mine, you know that?” he says. His voice is low, husky, sending a shiver up my spine. Before I can answer, he grabs my arms and pulls me up. His hug is tight, strong. Our foreheads press together. Our breaths mix, fast and close. It feels safe, like nothing can touch us here.

My hands slide to his back. He’s still sweaty from the track. I feel his muscles shift under my fingers. He pulls me closer, chest against mine. I tilt my head, and our lips meet. It’s soft at first, gentle. His lips are warm, tasting like salt and him. My heart beats hard, loud in my ears. I kiss him deeper, pushing my tongue into his mouth. He groans, quiet but real. His hands grip my waist, pulling me tight.

I press against him, feeling him through his shorts. He’s hard already. I am too. My hands move fast, tugging at his shirt. He helps, yanking it off. I touch his chest, fingers sliding over his skin. He’s hot, firm. I kiss his neck, sucking soft. He moans louder, hands fumbling with my jeans. I undo them quick, letting them drop. He grabs me, his grip tight and warm. I gasp, loud, my knees shaking.

He pushes me back, gentle but sure. My back hits the locker, cold metal on my skin. I don’t care. His lips find mine again, hungry now. His hand moves on me, slow then fast. I bite my lip, trying to stay quiet. A whimper slips out anyway. He kisses me harder, swallowing the sound. My hands reach for him, pushing his shorts down. I feel him, hot and hard in my grip. He hisses, pressing closer.

I stroke him, matching his pace. Our breaths get messy, quick. His free hand grabs my hair, pulling just enough. I groan, too loud. He kisses me deep, keeping me quiet. My body’s tight, buzzing. I rock into his hand, desperate. He’s shaking too, close. “Noah,” he whispers, voice rough. That’s all it takes. I lose it, spilling over his fingers, trembling hard. He follows fast, a low growl in his throat. We hold each other, panting, warm and sticky. His forehead rests on mine. It’s sweet, perfect.

I pull back, smiling soft. He grins, eyes bright. I fix my jeans, hands slow on the zipper. He pulls his shorts up, laughing quiet. “You’re too good at this,” he says. I blush, chest warm. “Only for you,” I say back. He steps closer, kissing my forehead. My heart feels full, like it might burst.

The door slams open. I jump, heart racing again. Sofia storms in, ponytail swinging. Her eyes are wild, red. “Caleb’s phone!” she shouts. “Lena’s got the video!” My stomach drops. Mateo tenses beside me. “What video?” I ask, voice shaking. She shoves Caleb’s phone at me. “The one framing you,” she says, looking at Mateo. “We need to check it. Now.”

I grab Mateo’s hand. We bolt out, following Sofia. My legs feel weak, but I keep moving. The halls are empty, quiet. We hit the AV room fast. I lock the door behind us, hands shaky. Sofia paces, muttering. I grab a tape from the shelf, the one I’ve been dreading. My fingers fumble, popping it into the player. The screen flickers on. It’s Mateo, spray-painting Ortiz’s office. Red paint drips on the wall, bold and fake. My gut twists hard. It’s not real, but it looks bad.

Mateo curses low. “That’s not me,” he says, voice hard. I nod, believing him. I lean closer to the screen, eyes narrow. There’s a glitch, a flicker. I pause it, rewind. There. A shadow in the frame. It’s Lena, her shape clear for a second. My chest tightens. “She did this,” I say, pointing. Sofia stops pacing, staring. “Proof,” she says, voice sharp.

I hit play again, hands cold. The tape keeps rolling. Then it changes. The screen flickers, static buzzing. It’s us. Me and Mateo, right now, staring at the screen. Live footage. My breath stops. Mateo grabs my arm, tight. “What the hell?” he says. I look around, fast. The camera’s on us, somewhere in here. My heart pounds, loud and fast.

Sofia steps back, eyes wide. “Someone’s watching,” she whispers. I nod, throat dry. My mind races. Lena? Ryan? Ortiz? The blackmail’s been piling up—texts, photos, now this. I feel sick, exposed. Mateo’s hand squeezes mine, grounding me. I want to run, hide, but we’re stuck here.

The screen stays on us, frozen. I hear my own breathing, quick and scared. Mateo’s tense, ready to move. Then a sound. A soft rattle. The doorknob shakes, slow and quiet. My stomach flips. I stare at the door, locked but weak. The rattling stops. Silence presses in, heavy. Mateo pulls me closer, his arm around me. I feel his heartbeat, fast like mine.

I swallow hard, trying to think. The tape’s still running, showing us live. Someone’s out there, controlling it. My hands sweat, slippery on Mateo’s. “We need to get out,” I say, voice low. He nods, jaw tight. Sofia looks at me, waiting. I step toward the player, ready to yank the tape. My fingers hover over it, shaking.

The doorknob rattles again, louder this time. My heart jumps to my throat. I freeze, staring. Mateo pulls me back, fast. “Noah,” he says, urgent. I don’t move. The rattle turns sharp, like someone’s twisting hard. My chest burns, panic rising. The screen flickers once, twice. It’s still us, but now there’s a shadow. Moving outside the door. Close. Too close.

I grab Mateo’s hand tighter. “Who’s there?” I whisper, barely loud enough to hear. No answer. Just the rattle, then a soft thump. Like a fist on the wood. My legs shake. I want to scream, but I can’t. Mateo’s grip is iron, keeping me steady. The shadow shifts on the screen, growing bigger. My breath catches. Someone’s right outside. Watching us live.

Then my phone buzzes in my pocket. Loud, sharp. I jump, fumbling it out. The screen glows, bright in the dim room. A new text: “You can’t hide.” My blood runs cold. I look at Mateo, his face pale. The doorknob twists hard, a loud creak. I stumble back, pulling him with me. The door shakes, ready to give. Someone’s coming in.