My Motorcycle Guardian

Chapter twenty-three: The Motorcycle

I'm scrambling to write this because I'm trapped in a house with anti-phone people. So I'm sorry if it's horrible, I'll edit it once I get the hell out of here!
(Not kidding send help please)

After my apology, Noah made me breakfast.

Which by that I mean pouring cereal into a bowl and handing it to me.
Such the gentleman.

We sat on the breakfast counter, munching away on Lucky Charms.

"So," I began after swallowing a mouthful.
"Where's your parents?" I asked, noticing the large yet empty house.

Noah tensed and the spoon, which was half way to his mouth, froze. Something that was definitely not joy slid across his eyes and settled there.

My inner conscience whacked me upside the head. Obviously I had struck a chord.

Stupid Hanna stupidstupidstupid!

"They are currently in Costa Rica, lounging on a beach with little umbrellas in their drinks. Forgetting all about their disappointment of a son all the way in the United States." Noah's voice dripped with so much resentment that I was tempted to put a bucket under him to catch it all.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Oh...I'm, uh-sorry. I guess."

Noah flashed me a smile. "Don't be. Not your fault."

We fell silent for a bit, until I spoke up. "If it makes you feel any better, my mom doesn't like me very much either." I said quietly, chasing a red balloon marshmallow with my spoon.

Noah glanced up. "She's always yelling at you right?"

"How do you know?" I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. For a moment, it looked like Noah's inner conscious was hitting him upside the head.

And, could it be? He looked...no! He looked like he was at a loss for words!

You heard it first ladies and gentlemen! Noah Johnson is at a loss for words!

I chuckled and nudged him with my elbow. "Relax dude, it's fine." I said, grinning. Noah grinned back and we went back to eating our grand feast of cereal.

•••

"So you just live here by yourself?" I asked sometime later while Noah was washing our bowls.

He shrugged. "My cousin comes over sometimes. And the guys kind of live here sometimes too."

I nodded, taking a sip of water.

"I didn't know you had a cousin."

Noah shrugged. "Little cousin. Her names Addie. Probably the most sarcastic little 12 year old you'll ever meet." Noah's nose wrinkled cutely, showing how many times Addie had gotten on his nerves. But he was smiling fondly, proof that he simply adored her.

"She sounds nice." I commented into my water.

"She tried to raise Satan in my room once."

Water spewed from my mouth in a fine mist of disbelief. And I erupted into laughter.
"You're kidding!"

Noah just grinned, shaking his head. "I'm not! She had the star in the circle, candles, this old book and everything!" Noah said, turning to me and laughing.

"I'd like to meet her one day. She sounds like you, only better." I said.

Noah snorted and rolled his eyes towards to ceiling. "Feel free to babysit her anytime. Please!" We both laughed at that, then fell into comfortable silence.

I bit my lip and glanced at him, only to see that he was all ready looking at me, a small smile on his lips.

"You don't act this way at school," I pointed out. Noah just shrugged.
"Why don't you? It's more...happier. Approachable."

By the cocky grin on his face, I wanted to eat my words.
"Really?" He asked, leaning closer.

I blushed and looked down at my cup, searching for a distraction.

"H-Hey, where'd you get your nickname anyway?" I blurted. Noah was momentarily taken aback by my sudden change of topic, but then shifted to confusion.

"My...nickname?"

"Yeah, Noah "The Heat" Johnson." It sounded familiar now that I thought about it. "Where did you get it?"

Noah stared at me like I was proud of a failed test.
Aka - He looked concern for my sanity.

"Um...Jay first gave it to me." He said slowly. "Because I used to ride my motorcycle so much that it got over heated."

I nearly choked. "M-Motorcycle?" I stuttered.

Noah grinned. "Yeah, wanna see it?" He turned and walked away towards what I supposed was the garage. I hurried after him, anticipation brewing in my gut.

What would I do if Noah was a Flame Rider? Was that bad if he was?
Would anything change? I mean, he would be a famous internet motorcyclist.

He opened a door, and gestured for me to go first.
Tip-toeing in the garage, I was hit first by the smell of engine oil. Suddenly, I was back in ISD, when I smelled cigarette smoke and something else on the boys.
It was engine oil.

Noah snapped the door shut and walked past me towards a shape covered in a blanket.
I wrung my hands nervously as he gripped the blanket, then with a single tug ripped it off.

A/N: HAHA CLIFF HANGER!

On that warm note, until next time my little riders!
~Tully🥗