Page 12 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)

Noah

It had been a week since the rafting adventure, and Evan, with the relentless help of his army of Elliott, Jules, Callie, Liam, and Sam, had spent the last several days systematically blowing up my phone.

Texts, calls, memes, and even a poorly photoshopped picture of me as a sasquatch lurking in the woods, they threw everything at me to get me to come out tonight.

I ignored them at first, but resistance was futile when faced with that much collective determination.

Eventually, after one too many “you’re gonna die alone” texts from Callie and a final “just get your ass out of the apartment, Patel” from Evan, I caved.

And now?

The Rainbow Taproom buzzed with Saturday night energy.

Music pulsed through the floor, steady and loud, humming beneath my skin.

Neon lights glowed pink, blue, and purple, casting shifting colors across the wood floors and behind the bar.

Laughter and conversation rose above the beat, mixing with the sound of feet on the dance floor, where bodies moved together in a blur of heat and rhythm.

I wasn’t sure why I had resisted coming.

I leaned against the bar, my glass cool in my hand as I enjoyed my whiskey soda. The burn grounded me in the chaos around me. The air smelled of spilled beer, sweat, and something sweet, vanilla, maybe, from someone’s cologne.

Jules slid into the barstool next to me, smirking like he had successfully tricked me into something elaborate.

“See?” he said, nudging me playfully with his elbow. “Not so bad, right?”

Truthfully, I was enjoying myself more than I had expected.

I huffed but didn’t argue, taking another sip of my drink. Jules, ever observant, watched me as he sipped his cocktail, waiting for me to admit I was having a good time.

Instead, I glanced at the ring on his finger, a platinum engagement ring with a slim row of colored stones set into the band, each one catching the light as he moved.

It was bold without being loud, elegant with just enough sparkle to make it feel personal.

It hadn’t left his hand since Elliott slid it on last week.

“So, what’s it like? Being engaged for a full week? ”

Jules’ grin softened into something genuine, something quietly radiant.

He lifted his hand, turning it slightly so the soft glow of the taproom’s neon lights caught on the metal and the stones.

“Honestly?” He sighed dreamily. “It’s kinda surreal.

Feels the same but… also not at all the same, you know? ”

I raised a brow and chuckled. “That’s a vague and deeply unhelpful answer.”

Jules laughed. “Okay, fine. It feels like… like everything is exactly as it should be. Like I know where I belong, and I know who I belong with.” He tilted his head at me, eyes twinkling. “Kind of a terrifying realization, honestly. But also, the best thing in the world.”

He looked out into the bar for a second, then added, “When I moved back to Havenwood, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.

I’d been bouncing between cities, doing experimental theatre and advocacy projects that were fulfilling but exhausting.

I kept telling myself I was chasing purpose, but honestly?

I think I was just running on fumes.” He smiled.

“Coming back here wasn’t some grand plan.

I didn’t have a job lined up or a five-year blueprint.

I just knew I had to get out of the city.

And even though it scared the shit out of me, every step since has just… fit.”

He ticked them off gently with his fingers.

“Finding the apartment. Walking into the playhouse for a visit and accidentally falling into the artistic director job. Meeting Elliott, somehow not scaring him off. Moving in together. Becoming part of Caleb’s life.

” He shook his head, his voice suddenly softer.

“Now here we are, planning a life together, planning a future. I mean, I blinked, and I’m a stepdad. ”

He turned back to me, eyes steady. “It’s surreal. But it’s mine. And it’s right. All of it.”

I nodded, glancing down at my drink. “Sounds nice. ”

Jules nudged me again, lighter this time. “It is. It will be.”

I didn’t ask what he meant. I already knew.

Jules gave me a smile, warm and knowing, the kind that felt like an older brother who’d seen just enough to be dangerous. “Have fun tonight, Noah,” he said, voice light but sincere.

And then he disappeared into the crowd, off to find Elliott.

Across the room, just beyond the packed dance floor, he was there. I didn’t mean to find him. I wasn’t looking for him. But the second Evan stepped onto the dance floor, my eyes found him anyway.

Evan didn’t just dance; he flowed, like the rhythm was part of him.

The beat lived in him, in the fluid way his body rolled to the rhythm, in the sway of his hips, in the way his hands slid over the arms of his dance partner before finding their waist. He was all confidence, all charm, all magnetism, and he pulled everyone nearby into his rhythm.

Light danced through his curls, catching on the subtle sheen of sweat at his temple.

His skin glowed under the rotating streaks of pink and blue.

He locked eyes with the guy he was dancing with, some broad-shouldered guy with a chiseled jaw and an open collar.

The sight of it sent something hot and unfamiliar curling in my chest.

I told myself it was a mild disturbance. That I was just observing. That I was not sitting here at the bar, gripping my glass a little too tightly, staring just a little too long.

But then Evan really pulled him in. His hands were firm but playful, the kind of touch that said he knew exactly what he was doing. Something inside me twisted.

I didn’t like it. Not because Evan was dancing. But because he wasn’t dancing with me.

A martini glass slid into view, the stem gleaming under the neon glow of the bar lights.

Before I could react, a figure draped in sequins claimed the stool beside me, moving with the deliberate grace of someone who owned every inch of space they occupied.

Maxie Glam is Havenwood’s resident drag queen. Local legend. Professional shit-stirrer.

She was impossible to ignore. Platinum blonde curls piled high, her makeup a masterpiece of sculpted contours and long, fluttering lashes.

Lips painted a deep, velvety red, drinking from her perfectly chilled glass like she was drinking in the night itself.

Her bespoke emerald-green gown clung to her body, every sequin catching the light, shimmering with each movement .

And she was smiling at me like she knew. Like she had peeled back my carefully constructed layers and read every single thought in my head like a damn book.

She took another drink before speaking, voice smooth and teasing. “If you stare any harder, sugar, you’re gonna set the poor boy on fire.”

I jolted. My grip tensed around my whiskey glass, heartbeat stuttering in my chest.

“I wasn’t staring.” Okay. Maybe I had been. I scowled and took a sip of my drink, hoping the burn of the whiskey would drown out the heat creeping up my neck.

Maxie let out a delighted gasp, clutching a dramatic hand to her chest. “Oh? My mistake, then. Must’ve been the other gorgeous nerd sulking in the corner.”

“I’m not sulking.”

She hummed, swirling her martini softly. “Mmm. Sure, you’re not. You just happen to be glowering in the direction of a very attractive, very taken man.”

My stomach twisted. “He’s not taken.”

Maxie grinned, slow and wicked, eyes gleaming like a cat who had just spotted an easy meal. “Oh? So, you have been paying attention.”

Damn it.

I clamped my jaw shut and dragged my focus back to my drink, determined to ignore her. It didn’t work.

She took another sip, watching me over the rim of her glass. “You know, I’ve been around long enough to recognize that particular shade of ‘oh shit’ on someone’s face.”

I stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maxie sighed, shaking her head in exaggerated pity.

“Sweetie, I do drag for a living. My entire job is seeing what people don’t say out loud.

” She waved a perfectly manicured hand through the air like she was brushing away smoke.

“I create illusion for a living, and that means I see it too. I know a facade when I’m looking at one.

And baby, you’re practically made of them. ”

She tapped a nail against the rim of my glass, drawing out the moment just long enough to make me squirm. “You want him.”

The words hit too fast, too hard. My grip tightened on my whiskey glass. “It’s not like that.”

Maxie just laughed. Low and knowing. Amused in a way that made my skin prickle. “Mmm. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

And I hated how clearly she saw through me .

Across the room, lights pulsed with the beat. Bodies moved to the rhythm, heat rose off the dance floor, the air full of sweat, booze, and something electric.

And right in the middle of it all… him.

Evan.

Flushed, loose-limbed, radiant. His laughter was bright and unrestrained, cutting through the thick pulse of music like a beacon. His hazel eyes glowed under the shifting lights and his shirt clinging in a way that left nothing to the imagination.

He was in his element.

And I was watching. My stare was locked, drawn in like some inevitable gravitational pull.

Then, he looked up. And for a split second, we locked eyes.

The air in my lungs thinned. My hand clenched around my glass, pulse hammering against my ribs.

And Evan’s lips curled at the edges. Like he had caught me doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing. Like he knew. Like he had always known.

My stomach dropped. My throat tightened. I yanked my eyes away, turning sharply, willing the moment to disappear into the crowd, into the beat of the music, into the blur of people between us.

But beside me, Maxie saw.

And worse? She understood.