Page 17 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)

Noah

The door to Green Bean Café chimed softly as I stepped inside, the aroma of fresh brewed coffee curled around me like a weighted blanket.

I had been avoiding the Bistro for the past couple of days since I got back in town on Sunday evening.

Not because I didn’t want to see Evan, or maybe precisely because I did.

I needed space, time to sort through my thoughts before stepping back into his gravitational pull.

And if that meant rerouting my usual coffee run to avoid temptation, so be it.

The café was busy enough that I could blend into the background but not so packed that I’d have to fight for a table.

I made my way to the counter, hands tucked into my sleeves and glanced at Morgan.

They were right where they always were. Behind the counter, moving like someone who’d mastered the morning rush.

Their auburn curls were tucked under a teal bandana with little stars, and their black apron was dusted with coffee grounds.

Their name tag read Morgan (they/them) , surrounded by doodles of coffee cups and stars.

Their warm smile faded as their brows drew together when they saw me.

“Noah Patel,” they said, crossing their arms. “Where the hell have you been?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

Morgan pulled a rag from their apron pocket and slapped it down onto the counter with dramatic flair. “You haven’ t been in for weeks. I thought you might’ve died or something. Or worse, started drinking gas station coffee.”

I let out a laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “That sounds horrible! Just busy with work.”

Their eyes narrowed, assessing. “You sure? You look like you’ve been fighting a war in those boardrooms of yours.”

I shrugged, feeling the familiar weight of exhaustion take over between my shoulder blades. “More like an uphill battle with bad code and corporate expectations.”

Morgan gave a knowing nod, pulling a fresh cup from the stack. “Figured it was something like that. Do you want the usual?”

I hesitated. The usual meant black coffee. Functional, practical, no nonsense. But my stomach was already coiled with tension, and something a little smoother, less acidic, sounded better.

“Actually,” I said, shifting my weight, “I’ll take a vanilla oat milk latte.”

Their eyebrows lifted slightly, like I had just admitted to a secret vice. “Look at you. Growth.”

I rolled my eyes as a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “It’s just coffee.”

“Sure, it is.” Morgan’s lips quirked as they started steaming the milk. “And you just happened to start coming back in at the same time a certain Rivermere Bistro waiter went mysteriously quiet about his favorite grumpy tech bro.”

I stiffened. Just barely.

Morgan caught it. Of course they did. They had that bartender-like intuition that made them frustratingly good at reading people.

“I am not sure what you are talking about.”

Morgan steamed the milk and talked over the hissing of the machine, “Come on, Noah. I know the tea. And not just the kind I serve here. Liam and Evan are regulars here too and I’ve…

seen enough over the years to spot a pattern.

The way he used to bring up your name like it was just casual conversation?

Please. That man was practically narrating a pining montage. ”

I opened my mouth to object. Found nothing. I said slowly. “It’s complicated.”

“Uh-huh.”

They didn’t press further, but the look they shot me as they set the finished latte on the counter was entirely too knowing. I stared down at the foam art in my cup. A heart. Of course.

“Missed you around here, Patel,” they said, softer this time .

And I knew what they meant. Not just missed seeing me. Missed whatever version of myself I was when I wasn’t overworked and overthinking everything.

I swallowed, “Yeah,” I acknowledged. “Missed this too.”

Morgan beamed like they had won something before turning to the next customer, leaving me to make my escape.

My coffee in hand, I made my way to my preferred corner near the back, by the window.

I hunkered down, pulled out my laptop, and set up my workspace with efficiency.

Charger plugged in, notebook to the side, wireless earbuds at the ready.

I breathed in as I rolled my shoulders back, trying to shake off the lingering stiffness of the past week.

The past week. Ugh.

Chicago had been relentless. But the worst part wasn’t the endless meetings, the long hours, the pressure of the impending beta launch. It was the silence.

Evan’s silence.

Or rather, MY silence toward him.

The past few days without Evan felt off.

I sighed, before clicking into the online meeting I was scheduled for.

The screen glowed, and soon, the familiar faces of my team in Chicago filled the gallery view.

I muted myself, letting the meeting unfold around me.

I didn’t need to contribute much today. Things were, for once, actually on track.

The latest fixes had stabilized the build, and the gameplay tests were coming back clean.

It was the kind of meeting where I could sit back, listen, and pretend to be fully engaged while my brain was somewhere else entirely.

Or with someone else.

I drummed against my cup, my focus drifting. I needed to stop putting this off. I needed to reply to Evan’s last text.

I opened my messages and typed.

Noah: You free tonight?

I hit send before I could second-guess it.

Seconds passed. My stomach tensed.

Then, the read receipt.

And then:

Evan Mitchell : Yeah. Where do you want to meet?

I stared at my phone, my grip tightening around it as my chest constricted with something ridiculous.

It was just a simple question, but making plans always spiked my anxiety.

The pressure of choosing the right place, the second-guessing; Was it too casual?

Too intimate? Would he think too much of it? Would I?

Usually, this would send me into decision paralysis.

But this time I just answered.

Noah: How about Sorella’s? Dinner at 6?

His response was almost instant.

Evan Mitchell : Sounds good. See you there.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my fingers still tapping against the ceramic of my cup.

That was easy.

I rubbed at my temple, ignoring the way my pulse had picked up just slightly. This wasn’t a date. It was just two people, two people who had kissed, two people who had history, two people who clearly liked each other, two people who had way too many things hanging between them, meeting for dinner.

Just dinner.

I glanced at my laptop screen, my team still deep in discussion. I should be focusing, absorbing the details, but my mind was already six hours ahead.