Frequencies of Us Chapter 77: Dash and a Dare

Mateo POV

I stand on the Lincoln High track as dusk turns it purple. Noah’s next to me, bouncing on his feet. I grin at him. “Race me,” I say. “Loser owes a kiss.” His eyes light up, playful. “You’re on,” he says, smirking. We line up, my heart already beating fast. I don’t care about winning. I just want him close. “Go!” I shout, and we take off. My legs pump hard, pushing me forward. He’s fast, but I’m faster. I cross the line first, chest heaving.

I turn quick and tackle him. We hit the grass, rolling a little. I pin him down, grinning big. My lips crash into his, playful and sweet. He giggles against me, soft and shaky. I feel it in my chest, warm and good. His lips taste like mint, fresh and cool. I kiss him deeper, tongue sliding in. He moans, quiet, grabbing my shirt. My hands grip his hips, pulling him tight. He’s warm under me, alive.

I tug his shirt up, fast. He helps, yanking it off. My fingers touch his chest, sliding over his skin. He’s smooth, hot. I kiss his neck, sucking soft. He groans louder, hands fumbling with my shorts. I shove them down quick. He grabs me, firm and warm. I hiss, loud, my whole body shaking. His touch burns, good and wild. I undo his jeans, clumsy but fast. They drop, and I reach for him. He’s hard, hot in my hand.

I stroke him, slow then fast. Our breaths mix, quick and messy. He pulls my hair, just a little. I growl, kissing him hard. His tongue fights mine, hungry. I press down, hips rocking into his hand. He’s trembling, close. I feel it too, tight and hot. “Mateo,” he whispers, voice breaking. That’s it. I lose it, spilling over his fingers, groaning loud. He follows fast, shaking under me. We hold each other, panting, sticky and warm. His giggles come back, soft against my lips. It’s sweet, perfect.

I pull back, grinning. He smiles, shy but happy. I fix my shorts, hands slow. He pulls his jeans up, laughing quiet. “You cheat,” he says, teasing. I shrug. “You love it.” My chest feels full, like it’s gonna burst. I lean in, kissing his forehead. He closes his eyes, leaning into me. For a second, it’s just us, the world gone.

Boots crunch gravel behind us. I tense, turning fast. Ryan’s crew circles, slow and mean. My stomach twists. Ryan steps forward, smirking. “Fairy Dash strikes again!” he yells. His buddies laugh, sharp and ugly. I’m on my feet quick, fists clenched. Anger burns hot in my chest. Noah grabs my arm, pulling me back. “Not worth it,” he whispers. His voice is soft, steady. I hate that he’s right.

Ryan’s eyes glint, dark and nasty. He pulls a spray can from his pocket, shaking it loud. “Watch this,” he says. He sprays the bleachers, neon orange paint hissing out. “FAG” drips big and bold. My jaw locks, tight. I step forward, fists up. Noah holds me tighter. “Mateo,” he says, quiet but firm. Ryan laughs, tossing the can up and catching it. His crew closes in, boots loud on the ground.

I glare at him, chest heaving. “You’re dead,” I say, voice low. He smirks bigger, stepping close. Too close. “Check your locker tomorrow, Vargas,” he says, breath hot on my face. “Big surprise.” His laugh lingers, mean and slow. He turns, strutting off. His buddies follow, shadows stretching long in the dusk. My hands shake, itching to swing.

Noah pulls me back, hands on my arms. “He’s bluffing,” he says. I shake my head. “He’s not.” My gut twists, hard. Ryan’s been after me since the video, since the texts. Now this. Whatever’s in my locker, it’s bad. I feel it, heavy and dark. Noah’s eyes search mine, worried. “We’ll figure it out,” he says. I nod, but I’m not sure.

The track’s quiet now, just us. My heart’s still pounding, mad and scared. I pull Noah close, hugging him tight. He’s warm, solid. I bury my face in his neck, breathing him in. He smells like grass and sweat, my Noah. “I hate them,” I whisper. He rubs my back, slow. “I know,” he says. It helps, a little.

I step back, looking at the bleachers. The paint glows, ugly and bright. My fists clench again. I want to smash something, anything. Noah grabs my hand, squeezing. “Let’s go,” he says. I nod, following him. We walk off the track, my mind stuck on Ryan’s words. Tomorrow. My locker. My stomach flips, nervous.

We’re halfway to the school when I hear it. A low whistle, sharp in the quiet. I stop, turning fast. Noah stops too, looking back. Nothing at first. Just dark. Then a shadow moves, by the bleachers. My chest tightens. “You see that?” I say, voice low. He nods, eyes wide. The shadow shifts, coming closer. My heart slams, fast.

I pull Noah behind me, stepping forward. “Who’s there?” I yell. No answer. The shadow stops, still. My hands sweat, ready to fight. Ryan? Lena? Someone new? My mind races. That whistle echoes in my head, creepy and wrong. Noah’s hand grips mine, tight. “Mateo,” he whispers, scared.

The shadow moves again, fast now. Toward us. My stomach drops. I push Noah back, ready to run. “Go!” I say, loud. He doesn’t move. The shadow’s closer, boots hitting the ground. My heart’s in my throat. Then a laugh, low and mean. My blood runs cold. It’s not Ryan. It’s someone else. And they’re almost here.