— Chapter 5 —
Better Safe Than Sorry

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E L L I O T

"Hiya, fellas."

There were four other riders, and their aggressive motorcycles blocked any possible exit. They approached with unamused expressions—a sharp contrast to me, with my trembling legs and anxious expression conveying anything but confidence. My vivid imagination couldn't help but come up with all the worst possible scenarios that could unfold in the next few moments.

While I was busy freaking out in my head, Noah had forced himself up off the floor, using his slender legs to push his no-doubt bruised body off the asphalt. His coal-black helmet had been kicked to the side, clearly scuffed from all the friction with the road.

"Man, my day cannot get any worse," I heard him mumble flatly, as he dusted the dirt off his gloved hands.

Considering that almost all the Stray Dogs wound up at Joe's at some point, I didn't recognize any of the bikers before us. A rival group, maybe? But why had I never heard of them? Was it only these four that were part of it?

One of the older riders spoke up, a triumphant look on his rough face. "You've got nowhere left to run now, Edge."

"Yeah, well... you look like you haven't run in years, buddy," Noah said back, adjusting his leather jacket. The tattooed older rider immediately grew beet red, clenching his meaty fist with fury.

Why'd you have to go and insult the guy?! I wanted to yell at him. Now we're both dead! Great!

One of the other men glared, burying his fist into his other hand. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to? We'll kill you, motherfucker."

"Yeah? Take a number," Noah retorted.

"Let's get him," another, muscular biker echoed.

Noah sighed.

"Why do you guys always have to make things difficult?" He asked. "Just tell Marcus to pay me back. Seriously, it's not like that asshole hasn't had enough time."

The fourth rider snapped back. "He'll pay you back when he decides he wants to, fucker!"

"This is what I get for being lenient," Noah muttered. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he faced them head-on. "Alright, fine. Compromise. Tell Marcus he's got a week left to deliver. Any longer than that and I won't be using my fucking words."

Threats, too? I thought distressfully. Noah didn't even look fazed. It definitely didn't seem to fly with the bikers, either.

The older rider scoffed. "This bastard thinks he can make threats!"

Noah shook his head in disappointment.

One of the other bikers changed the subject, however, finally acknowledging my presence—though somewhat rudely. "Christ, you couldn't swerve this idiot?" He snickered, gesturing to me. Tilting his head to see the toppled bike, he snickered, "the tires on that thing must be shit."

Hold on, I frowned, who the hell is he calling an idiot?

"Oh, now you've insulted Baby," Noah glared, probably referring to his shiny, abyss-black motorcycle.

He named that thing Baby? I frowned. I didn't linger on it for long though, acknowledging the situation we were still in. Right, not important.

"Enough talking already!" The muscular rider barked. "Get him, for God's sake!"

Hoping to dial down the situation, I said nervously, "Hey, maybe we should think about this—"

But the older man that Noah had insulted earlier cut me off. He barked harshly, "Stay out of it!"

My mouth clamped shut.

The four bikers didn't need any more of an invitation, though—they approached Noah with fire in their eyes, though Noah didn't look the slightest bit fazed. Meanwhile, I was trying not to piss my damn pants. How did I get myself in this mess?

"Four against one, huh?" He said, running his fingers through his hair. "That doesn't seem fair, don't you think? How about I just fight whichever one of you guys is in charge, yeah?"

"Trust me, kid," the muscular biker scoffed as he pulled up his sleeves, "you wouldn't be able to take me on."

The words seemed to stop the other men in their tracks.

The older biker frowned. "Hey, hold on a minute—who the hell put you in charge?"

"Yeah, Marcus said I was the boss!"

"That's total bullshit! I'm his second-hand man—"

"The hell you are!"

Are they serious? I could hardly believe what I was watching. In only a few words, Noah had managed to break the group down, a smirk on his face as he watched the infighting take place.

While the four of them bickered amongst themselves, I looked back to Noah. He passed me a wink when he noticed the surprise on my face.

Inching closer to me while the bikers were distracted, he eventually latched on to my arm. Startled, I watched as Noah pressed his finger to his lips in warning to keep quiet.

'Come on,' he mouthed.

Hesitant, I slowly nodded my head, turning to follow behind him. Pulling me gently by the arm, we moved as quickly as possible between the nearest gap between the bikes.

"That's ridiculous, I'm the oldest! Obviously, I'd be in charge!"

"Shut up, you fucking moron!"

Once we'd safely left their eyesight, Noah and I broke into a jog, trying to gain as much distance as we could before they realized we'd disappeared.

Despite my still tender bruises and painful ribs, it felt exhilarating. A rush that I hadn't felt anything similar to in years. With Noah Black, of all people. Was this the average Tuesday for him?

The voices were quiet in the near distance, and I was beginning to think they'd forgotten entirely about us. But one of the riders spoke up, proving me entirely wrong.

"Hey, where the hell did they go?"

"After them!"

Noah heard too. "Shit."

Pulling me into one of the thinner alleyways of the road, I let out a breathy yelp when he moved me behind one of the taller dumpsters.

"Who the hell were those—"

But I didn't get to finish my sentence as Noah pressed his leather-gloved hand over my mouth. Quietly shushing me, I watched him stressfully as he poked his head out to sneak a glimpse at the opening of the alley.

The voices grew louder and louder until eventually, they sounded as if they were only a few feet away. When they appeared in the opening, Noah ducked his head back and pressed his lips tightly together.

My heart was in my chest.

"They couldn't have gone this far!"

"Shut the fuck up! It's your fault we lost them!"

"I'm not the only one with a set of eyes in this group, you know!"

"Marcus is going to kill us."

It was a few more moments before the voices finally faded for good. I breathed a sigh of relief, Noah checking that the coast was clear before moving out from behind the dumpster. I followed behind him, subtly clutching the side of my chest that my father had bruised. All the running had made it more inflamed.

"Those morons," Noah chuckled, stretching out his arms. "It's the oldest trick in the damn book and it gets them every time."

"This is a common occurrence for you?"

He shrugged. "Eh. So-so."

As we started our walk back to the intersection, I fiddled with my fingers and tried to dissolve the adrenaline that was coursing through my veins. I felt somewhat guilty. Partly for making him topple his bike, and almost getting him caught by the other bikers. Part of me was also concerned about the fact that he was walking perfectly fine after his accident.

"Uh... I'm sorry for getting in the way of your motorcycle," I mumbled, shoving my trembling hands in the pockets of my puffer coat. "Are you okay?"

"Bruised my shoulder, but nothing too bad," he answered, before waving off the notion. "I'll live."

"Are you sure?"

"Mm-hm."

"So... you're not mad?"

He passed me a frown. "Why would I be mad?"

Am I hearing him right? I thought to myself, surprised at just how little he seemed to care about everything that had just happened. I thought he definitely would've killed me, especially if I'd caused him to total his bike. Did he really not care?

Hell must be freezing over.

"Uh... never-mind."

Noah passed me a somewhat nervous chuckle. "Besides, I should be apologizing to you for almost running you over. I thought the road was deserted and I was going too fast—I must have scared the shit out of you."

Now he's apologizing to me? I could hardly believe the words coming from his mouth. What the hell is going on?

Instead, I answered shyly, "It's fine."

"I should also apologize for those idiots," he added. "More muscle there than smarts. Seriously, there's four of those fools and not a single brain cell between them."

Something about his mannerisms and confidence made me lower my guard, though slightly. "You know them?"

He shook his head. "I guess they're... buddies of a guy I have business with."

Arriving back to the intersection, Noah started a short jog back to his toppled bike. I looked around for my groceries, though, finally spotting the familiar white of the plastic bag.

"Oh, Baby, please don't be dead," Noah repeated to himself, pulling his motorcycle back up by its handles into a standing position. "Shit."

As he started up the bike, I dropped down beside the fallen groceries, pulling the plastic handle aside to see the damage. Trying to ignore the pain in my side, a frustrated exhale left my cold lips. "Damn it."

The contents of the bag had spilled out of it, now lying in a dirty puddle of rainwater. And the tea, which cost about an arm and a leg in my already thin budget, had been completely soaked. The lid of the box had popped open too, rendering everything inside entirely unusable.

I cussed at myself, shoving the wasted products back into the plastic. Leave it to my dumb ass to drop it in the worst possible place. Damn it.

"Everything okay?" Noah asked, noticing the bitter expression on my face.

"It's all soaked," I said flatly, pulling the box of tea up by its fragile lid. Rainwater spilled out of it as soon as I did. "This stuff is so hard to come by, too."

Taking it from my hands to see the label, he asked, "Can't you buy another one?"

"It was the last one they had," I grumbled. "The only other place that sells it is on the other side of Boston. Just my luck."

As he passed me back the soiled box, I tried to change the topic. "How's the bike?"

"A dent on the side and a few scratches," he admitted, "but nothing some patience and a little TLC won't fix."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "I'd uh... I'd offer you a ride to your place but I don't really have another helmet."

I offered him an assuring look. "It's fine. You couldn't pay me to get on one of those things, anyway."

"Oh, really?" He teased. "Alright, well, do you live far from here? I could walk you home. You know... make sure you don't pass out from shock or something."

I couldn't help the small pull on the sides of my lips at his words. "I think I'll be fine."

"Better safe than sorry?"

I took a good look at his kind expression. How had this part of his personality been lost in translation? The person standing before me wasn't as cruel or threatening as all the rumors I'd heard about him. I mean, sure, he was certainly intimidating... and perhaps rough around the edges... but he wasn't all that bad.

Truthfully, I couldn't wait to get home. My stomach was killing me from hunger, my legs could hardly carry my weight, and my bruises just needed a break from all the exertion. An aching had started to form at the back of my head, too, which didn't give me much optimism either. I just wanted to stuff my face and pass out.

Finally giving in to Noah's wishes, I stood up and offered a surrender. "Alright, fine. I live on Montgomery street. It's not that far a walk, maybe two blocks."

"Seriously?"

Confused, I asked, "What?"

"Uh, nothing. Let's go."

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"This is me," I said, coming to a stop at the house's cracking, old driveway. The porch light was on, its yellow beams flickering on and off every few moments. "You really didn't need to walk me back here. I'm fine."

He offered me a half-smile, trying for polite. "It was the least I could do. And I was heading here anyway, to be honest."

I frowned. "You were?"

"Yeah. Angela lives on this street, too," he explained, adjusting his grip on his helmet. "I was supposed to be over an hour ago."

His answer made it all click into place. So that's why he was surprised when I mentioned I live here. Because his girlfriend does too.

...Right. How hadn't I known that?

Though it was only a few split seconds, my gaze rested on his features for what felt like a brief eternity. The darkness of his ash-brown hair under the night sky... the piercing in his mouth that sparkled whenever he spoke, the way his leather jacket shone softly under the street lights... damn.

All that, combined with his confidence and charm? Oh, he was undoubtedly a heartbreaker.

"Alright, well..."

I'm still staring. Dropping my gaze immediately, I was sure that my cheeks were turning pink from embarrassment. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he smiled genuinely. "Sorry again for almost running you over."

Offering a curt nod, I didn't say anything more to him. Mostly because I didn't want to humiliate myself any further than I already had that night. The guy probably wants nothing to do with me.

Noah clicked up his bike's kickstand and offered me a genuine smile, promptly contradicting all the thoughts in my head. I wasn't prepared for it to catch me so off guard. I must be losing my damn mind.

"See you around, Elliot."

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Next chapter will be in Noah's POV. Thanks for reading! :)