bleached bones and pinned butterflies

blood boils the same time as sparks fly

Beside her, Samuel is gaping. "... What the fuck did you do Noah?" He mutters under his breath, grip tightening on the handlebar of his bike. 

Noah doesn't answer, because she spots the Smug Fucking Asshole off to the side, casually seated on the handlebars of his bike with one feet on the wheel and the other on the pedal. Perfectly still. The guy looks even like he's spaced out. It was an irritatingly impressive show of balance, Noah has to admit, even if just to herself. She only knows Owen who can achieve that level of stillness. This was proof - as if the race from before was not enough - that this Smug Fuck, and his friends, aren't just simple 'amateur' cyclists. 

She walks over to him, ignoring Samuel who is floundering behind her. Smug Fucking Asshole seems to come to life as she nears, and he tilts his head as he finally looks at her. Blinking several times as if he's just registering her presence. Like he just came back to his body after astral projecting or some shit. 

He doesn't say anything, barely even reacting, so Noah lifts her foot, aiming for the rear wheel-

Smug Fuck smoothly dismounts and moves his bike away from her, and he cocks a brow at her. "That wasn't very nice." Is the first thing he says. 

Noah clicks her tongue. "I didn't come here to make friends." She replies curtly. 

Smug Fucking Asshole nods, as if it was a completely reasonable and acceptable answer. "A pity, that, but I understand." Is what he says, and Noah has to frown. 

"The hell does that mean?" She demands, because, really. What is this asshole going on about now? First he doesn't even want to talk to her - doesn't want to acknowledge her existence, really - and now he's saying it's a pity? 

He shrugs, leaning casually on his bike and crossing his arms. "I mean, it would be an honor-" The way he drawls out the word 'honor' has goosebumps rising in Noah's arms and she doesn't know what to do. "-to be able to race against a world-class cyclist, and call them friend after." 

Noah, against her better judgement, can't stop the flush of pride filling her when this asshole says 'world-class cyclist' because- that's what she is, right? She's a professional, acknowledged to be world-class, part of the famous Light Cavalry. 

Fuck, she hopes her face isn't red; why is she as pale as a ghost? 

Before Noah could think up of something to reply with, Smug Fuck nods over at Samuel, who looks like a spooked cat being surrounded by dogs. Which is funny because the guy is like. At least a head taller than most of them. 

"Your friend?" Smug Fuck asks. 

Noah purses her lips. "Yeah. What about it?" She replies, and the guy hums. 

"I know some of my guys would be interested in racing against some of Light Cavalry's cyclists." He says, almost as if he's genuinely interested in conversation, and Noah is admittedly, just a little bit wrong-footed right now.  "It'll be something to remember." 

"What, am I not enough?" Noah lifts her chin, fire of indignation already burning in her gut. "I'm part of Light Cavalry too, you know." 

Dark eyes, eerily sharp despite the whole bored look the guy has going on, land on her, and Noah meets his gaze without hesitation. It'll be a cold day in hell before she backs down, and this asshole will not get the pleasure of- "Oh, I know that. But you're mine to race against, princess." He shifts, throwing his leg over his bike to mount it like he just didn't just throw Noah's world off its axis as well. "I don't like sharing, so it's just you and me today." 

Noah can help but sputter. "You-!" 

The guy nods. "Me." He agrees, and it took all of Noah not to actually kick the guy. "And you, on a one-on-one race. Just as you asked for, princess."