𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

Chapter 10

— Chapter 10 —
Read Me Like an Open Book

=||=||=

E L L I O T

"Leave it," Noah told me, referring to the glass on the floor. He kept his gaze trained on the drunk men before him. They weren't laughing so much anymore.

I shook my head and answered him carefully, "it's fine, Noah. I can—"

"I said leave it."

Drawing my hands away from the many shards before me, I figured it was wiser to listen... especially with the look on his face and the situation unfolding before me.

Despite the commotion, someone from Noah's table chuckled, "'Noah?'"

I realized quickly that it was a criticism of addressing Noah by his name. Apparently, not many people did that. Shit, I thought to myself, did I fuck up?

Noah didn't seem to notice, though, the situation between the four of us still heavy.

"You felt the need to break all this shit," he spoke coldly. I couldn't help but listen nervously at the ominous way in which he spoke. "Clean up after yourselves."

"Come on, man," the red-haired one chuckled lightly. "We were just messing around."

"Yeah?" Noah feigned care for a brief second, before going flat again. "I'm not. Hurry the fuck up."

"Christ, fine," the younger biker scowled. Leaning over to me, he reached for the dustpan. Noah stopped him before he could take it.

"No, I don't think so."

"What the fuck do you expect us to pick it up with, then?" The younger one frowned.

Noah shrugged.

"You have two hands and opposable thumbs," he said simply. "I'm sure you can figure it out. Come on."

"This is a must be a joke," the other biker scoffed, puffing out his jacket. His scowl rested on me for a split second, before turning back to Noah. "You can't be serious."

Noah answered, "Am I laughing?"

"Whatever, man. We're paying fucking customers," the man with red hair answered. "I'm not doing it."

A dark look came to rest on Noah's face as an annoyed exhale left his lips.

"I'm not in the mood to deal with this shit," he grumbled.

Then, without another word, Noah escalated the situation. Forcefully gripping the hair of both bikers, he dragged them to their feet—despite the loud curses that flooded out of their mouths. I moved out of the way, both shocked and somewhat relieved.

"Let's go," Noah said to them, pulling them by their hair in the direction of the front doors. Despite the struggling of the men in his grasp, Noah didn't seem to require much effort to move them.

The two bikers yelled drunkenly at him—mostly different iterations of 'get the fuck off me' and some additional cuss words. Eventually, though, Noah shoved them out of the bar, leaving most of us inside with our jaws hanging open.

Did that really just happen?

It was a moment or two before he came in again, dusting his hands off and giving a flat look to the people staring at him.