It's the next day and Noah's mind is still loud with several thoughts. That high schooler Owen is obsessed with. The guy with the cold eyes and shot down each and every word from her. And most of all, her thoughts keep circling back to the new number saved in her phone, given to her - as a prank? As some sort of fucked up form of help? As a prize??? - by the guy in yellow glasses. Honestly, overwhelmed as she was, Noah has no clue what to do right now, and she's getting jittery with nerves and pent up energy. Bad enough that even Samuel is giving her looks, side-eyeing her like she's some snake that's about to strike him.
... It's actually not far off of a comparison, now that she thinks about it.
"What the fuck are you looking at, Sam?" Noah mumbles, mindlessly scrolling through Chitter and liking posts from her friends back at home.
"... Nothing." At Noah's unimpressed look, the big blonde makes a face. "It's just... you good?"
"Yeah. Sure." Noah bites on a knuckle absently. "Just peachy. Perfect, even."
Which is, a fucking lie. She's actually ready to crawl out of her skin with how keyed up she is. Samuel doesn't reply, which means-
Noah looks over at him, and as she suspects, he's looking at her warily and that's. That's sort of irritating. "What?" She growls, her patience wearing thin and the skin on her knuckle getting thinner with how much she's been gnawing on it lately. Fuck, she's fucking up her skincare because of stress.
Samuel looks away. "You sure you're all good? You're like..." He gestures towards her. "You're all jittery and shit."
... Fuck, was it that obvious?
Noticing the look on her face, Samuel continues, sounding panicked like he just stepped on a landmine.
"I mean if you're still bothered by Owen said, don't mind him, he's probably just in a pissy mood since his girl isn't even his girl-"
Noah stands up, practically jumping out of her hotel bed and violently grabbing her helmet and gloves off the nightstand. Samuel goes quiet behind her, and Noah couldn't care. She's annoyed now, supremely so, and she needs to work off the energy or else she's really snapping.
It was a good thing their bikes finally arrived; a day more and Noah would've lost her shit. Again. She has no clue how many times she's lost her shit ever since she came her to South Korea chasing after her idiot of a team captain.
"I'm gonna go do some laps," Noah mutters to Samuel, pulling on a loose sweater over her head and slipping on her cleats while throwing a spare pair of loafers and shirt in her duffel bag. "Be back for dinner or something."
Samuel stares at her. "Girl, it's like... still eleven in the morning?"
Noah just looks at her friend. "Did I stutter?" She asks, voice deceptively calm.
Samuel just huffs, blond locks swaying as he puffs air at his own bangs. "Just because you got a black card doesn't mean you should just spend your money like water with eating outside." He says. Which, point, but-
"I'm not gonna eat in every Michelin-starred restaurant I come across, Sam." Noah retorts, rolling her eyes as she crosses the room, gloves on, helmet secure under one arm and her bag secure on her back. "Anyways, I'm off. If Owen looks for me tell him I'm practicing or something."
Noah doesn't wait for her taller friend to reply, closing the door behind her with a firm click.
Grabbing her bike from the underground parking lot is easy, just flashing her ID at the guard there, and soon enough Noah is hitting the roads on her Cervélo P5. Being in the professional cycling circuit for several years now, Noah is used to almost all sorts of terrain and types of cycling tournaments. Urban tracks like these - with plenty of traffick and closed roads - aren't new, so Noah pays no mind to it. She easily weaves through cars, stopping and going at the appropriate lights, and most of all she lets the flow of traffic direct here path, letting it take her around Seoul.
The more she bikes, the more she pumps her legs to pedal, the more the tension leaves her. The more her jittery energy leaves her body and leaving her relaxed, her mind clearing up. She's no Owen Knight, who 'understands' the wind, but what she does understand is the way he finds comfort in riding. The way the wind tugs at her hair, the pleasant exertion of pedaling, and their surroundings reduced to a blur. It was freeing, in a way; nothing else mattered at that moment, just her, her bike, and the road stretching out in front of her.
It was these moments that Noah fought to have. It made everything worth it.
So Noah let herself be lost to the repetitive motions of biking, turning this way, turning that way. Stop, go, pause because there are pedestrians, pause to take a drink. The day is pleasant enough, bright without being too hot and clear skies. If Noah doesn't think too hard, she would forget her horrible mood and the cause of it.
But as she pulls up to a cafe to grab a cup of coffee and muffin, the worries she forgot comes back full force. She was distracted enough that ordering was a little more annoying than usual, what with the addition of language barrier, but whatever. She got it in the end.
And as Noah takes a seat on one of the outside tables, Noah nibbles on her knuckle as she stares at the new number saved in her phone. Cold Eyes' number, given to her by that weirdo with the yellow glasses. Obviously, the guy wanted her to contact his friend - for what, Noah has no clue - but now that she has free time she-
She has no clue what she should do.
Oh she still wants to race the guy, prove to him who's the real deal but-
Does she just text him? Call him up? Does the guy even know Noah has his number? So many questions, and not a single answer. Fuck.
Noah takes a sip of her coffee in an attempt to calm her nerves, before she taps the message button and types of a text.
> [i still think we should race]
... Not... Not the best of first messages but then again Noah doesn't want friendly. Doesn't want to be all buddy-buddy with an asshole like Cold Eyes. She wants to beat him, want to make him eat her dust as she races in front of him.
She doesn't wanna be friendly.
But Noah still hesitates, thumb hovering over the send button, before she decides 'fuck it' and taps it.
No guts, no glory. Death before dishonor. The latter is literally her tattoo, even, stamped right in front of her right thigh; big and bold with crisp lines and rich colors. Come on Noah Brookes; you're a fighter, why are you pussy-footing around, acting all scared and hesitant? You're a strong woman, you're fucking cream of the crop.
Even then, even with her little pep talk with herself, Noah hastily shoves her phone back into the pocket of her sweater, nervously bouncing her leg as she takes a long drink. The caffeine is probably not helping her nerves - which is, why is she even nervous??? - but she needs something to do and the nearest thing happens to be the americano in her hand.
If Noah jolted in her seat when her phone pings, no she didn't. Really, she's not that nervous.
> [How did you get my number?]
Oh wow. Rude from the get go? No wonder Noah got such bad vibes from Cold Eyes from the start. He's just as bad as Korean Fucker, if not worse.
Noah clicks her tongue irritably as she types up a reply.
< [your friend with the yellow glasses gave them to me.]
> [Well, delete it? I don't talk to strangers.]
If it was possible to reach through the screen and strangle someone on the other side, Noah would've done it now. She would've done it so many times already.
< [noah brookes, from warwickshire, england, and light cavalry cyclist. that enough for you?]
> [No, I'm blocking you. Bye 👋]
It took all of Noah not to scream in anger. Who does this guy think he is?!
< [fuck you, i just wanna talk.]
> [Well I don't.]
< [you talk hot shit about respect but you don't give a woman respect? sexist much? clearly your parents never taught you how to treat a lady right.]
> [...]
> [I don't have parents.]
...
Well.
Noah stares off into the distance.
Way to get the conversation awkward real fast. And yeah, Noah knows she fucked up big time with this one. Stupid, stupid, stupid, letting your mouth run away before your brain could catch up. Great work, Noah Brookes, ten out of ten for execution.
> [Are you done? I'm blocking you right now.]
< [wait]
> [... What is it this time?]
< [just one race]
< [one race, and i'll leave you alone]
> [... You're a persistent one, aren't you princess?]
Noah's face isn't red. Well, it's red but that's because she's been biking for an hour. Yes, nothing else. No other reason, of course. That'd be stupid, otherwise. Noah huffs, fighting to keep her face straight, and she fires off a reply.
< [i'm not hearing a no in there]
> [... I'm in class right now, but meet me in Boramae Park around 4PM. We'll talk then.]
Noah jumps up to her feet, one fist raised in the air as she stares incredulously at her phone. The fucker agreed? The cold-hearted asshole actually agreed to race her? Is this a dream- is she hallucinating??? Noah is sure she drank plenty of fluids and she's not running on an empty stomach because she's not stupid - thank you very much - so this is definitely real, right?
Right???
< [where the fuck is that?]
> [Figure it out yourself, princess; I know you're not stupid. Well, not that stupid. Bye.]
It took Noah everything she has not to throw her phone at the ground. she knows people are looking at her now, since she's still standing, one hand in the air and the other clutching her phone in a vice grip, but she can't care. These side characters don't matter in the grand scheme of things. Not when she'll be getting that race with Cold Eyes-
Fuck. Fuck, she's sweaty and shit.
She checks the time - it's still noon; she has plenty of time to spare - but she needs to get ready. She remembers watching this guy's race with Samuel and despite not being professionals, Cold Eyes and his crew are still no joke. Not to mention the way they ride dirty. If Noah is racing this guy, she's going to have her work cut out for her. Not that she will lose, but rather Noah is aware enough this guy will make her work for it, and work her very hard.
It won't be an easy race.
Noah feels excitement in her blood, making her grin wildly, and she snatches her things from the table, going over to her bike so she can get back to the hotel and freshen up for this afternoon.
She has a 'date' to prepare for.
----- 🦋 x 💀 -----
She finds Boramae Park - which was surprisingly close to her hotel, actually - but as she rides up the the place, she immediately finds Cold Eyes because of his bucket hat, which make things easier. Her grin slips off her face when she realizes she doesn't have a bike with him, though, a frown pulling the corners of her lips down.
"Where's your bike?" She asks, and she gets a simple glance from under the brim from the ass.
"Try asking again, but more politely this time." He leans back, eyes slipping close as he rests his head against the backrest of the bench. "I just had a six hour class princess, I'm not in the mood to play with you right now."
Noah grits her teeth, because of course this fucker dares to lie to her. Men. Fucking men. Fixing a 'nice' smile onto her face - it feels more like she's baring her teeth, really - she asks. Again. "May I ask where your bike is?" Noah 'asks', her smile as sweet as snake venom.
"I left it at home, since my original plan was to go straight there after classes. But the thing is," Asshole opens one eye, casts a look on Noah and giving a quick up and down look. "Some blueberry princess came and demanded I humor her royal presence."
Choking the guy sounds more and more tempting, Noah has to admit. "Don't fucking call me princess." She growls, and the guy only shrugs. Dismissive.
"I call it as I see it. Now," Asshole looks up at her. "Why are you so insistent on racing me? I'm just a no name."
Noah clicks her tongue. "I don't need a reason to want to beat you into the ground." She replies.
A head tilt. A slow blink. Is this guy a cat or something? "The thing is, you actually revealed your reason. Is this a pride thing? Are you using me as a replacement for whoever humiliated you before?" Cold Eyes lean back, regarding Noah calmly even as she starts to shake. "That's not good, princess. Projecting on others."
Did this guy just really call her out just to fucking shame her?
"I thought we'd race." Noah manages to get out through gritted teeth, half a step away from losing it.
"We were?" Fucker has the gall to act surprised.
"You never said no."
"And I never said yes either, princess. All I said was we'll talk, and talk we did."
"You-"
Cold Eyes sigh, getting up and dusting the back of his pants. "Look, princess," Noah goes still at the look her gives her; it was absolutely unfeeling. Empty. "Next time, read the fine print. Don't assume things. Slow down. You're not in a rush, are you?"
Noah can feel her jaw creak, with how hard she's clenching it. How hard she's holding herself back. Taking her silence as an a seer of some sort, Cold Eyes continue.
"But since you're so insistent, I suppose I could humor you, just this once." He sighs out, almost too soft for Noah to hear.
Wait... what the fuck did he just say?
"Tomorrow is another match in League of Street. The route they'll use for the matches is what we'll use as well, in a simple race to the finish. Got that?" He raises a wrist, mockingly tapping his watch. "We'll race at 10pm. Be there on time or I'll leave."
Cold Eyes makes to leave, and Noah can only stay rooted to the spot. Standing on the other aide of her bike, Cold Eyes gives it a considering look, before he leans close, practically in her personal space-
"Don't be late for our date tomorrow, princess." He murmurs, and Noah feels something electric zing down her spine. "I hate disappointing dates."
His last blow delivered, Smug Fucking Asshole finally disappears, leaving Noah shaking with barely restrained anger and overwhelming confusion in his wake.
Fuck.