bleached bones and pinned butterflies

i'm not obsessed (you totally are)

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.