Page 19 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)

Noah

The cursor blinked on my screen like it was taunting me.

Another email. Another deadline.

I’d been working from home all week, holed up in my little office, blinds half-closed, noise-canceling headphones on, even when there wasn’t any music playing. Just silence. Me and the hum of my laptop. Predictable. Safe. Clean code and deadlines, no feelings, no risks.

I told myself I was fine. That I was doing the right thing.

We had one really great night. And then I panicked. I didn’t ruin it, I told myself. I just left before it could get complicated. Before it could hurt.

But even as I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes, I found myself staring at my phone on the desk. Evan hadn’t texted. Neither had I. I think he knew better than to chase me. He gave me space, like he had before.

Still, I picked up my phone. Opened our thread. Started typing.

Noah: Hey. I’m sorry.

I stared at it. Read it. Deleted it.

Sorry for what? For having a nice time? For wanting you? For kissing you back? For leaving before I could screw it up?

I hovered over the backspace key.

This sounds like a breakup text, and we’re not even a thing. He probably thinks I ghosted him. Did I? Maybe I did. God, I hate this.

Delete.

Typed again ,

Noah: Can we talk?

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Too vague. Sounds ominous. Like I’m about to drop some life-altering confession or say goodbye for good. Delete.

Noah: Evan

Backspace.

I stared at the screen, heart pounding like I was about to hit a detonator. Just call him. Be a grown-up. Worst case, he doesn’t answer. Best case…

I swallowed and hit call.

It rang once. Twice. I almost hung up.

Then Evan answered. “Noah?” His voice was quiet, careful.

“Hey. Sorry for calling out of nowhere.”

“It’s not nowhere. What’s up?”

“I… I want to talk. In person. If you’re free.”

A pause. “Okay. Where?”

“The trail by the creek. Near the bridge?”

“I know it.”

“Great. I’ll meet you there?”

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

The wind was soft today. The kind of spring breeze that nudges the leaves just enough to remind you they’re alive.

I stood near the water, hands in my pockets, watching the current slide over rocks like it didn’t have a care in the world. I envied that. Evan’s footsteps crunched on the gravel behind me before I even heard his voice.

“Noah.”

I turned. He looked good. Casual, warm, maybe a little curious. I didn’t blame him.

“Hey, Evan.” We just looked at each other. Studying the other’s face. He shouldn’t have to be the one to make the move. Start talking. I did this. I asked him to meet me. Finally, I said, “Want to walk with me?”

“Sure,” he said.

We fell into step. It wasn’t awkward, not really. But my head was busy enough to make it feel that way.

“I’m sorry,” I said after a few minutes. “About the other night. The evening was… amazing. And then I…” I trailed off, rubbing the back of my neck. I stopped walking, bracing my hands on my hips. “I ended it before it could get… complicated.”

Evan glanced at me, brow raised. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I kissed you back. And then I smiled and left like I wasn’t feeling everything all at once. And my mind’s been a mess over it ever since.

He watched the water. “It didn’t feel like that on my end. It felt good, Noah. That’s all.”

I stopped walking, letting that sink in.

“It scared me. How natural it felt. I kept waiting for the moment it would fall apart. I just… “ I looked at him. “Things like that… dates… they don’t usually go that well for me. And when they do, I get scared. It’s safer to shut it down before it can get messy.”

He met my eyes. “Do you think it was messy?”

“No,” I said. “That’s what scared me.”

We stood there, the weight of it settling between us.

Evan gave me a small smile. “So you’re saying it was a date?”

I shook my head. “Can we not call it that?”

His brow lifted. “Ok. May I ask why not?”

“I don’t do labels,” I said. “Not yet. Not with this.”

“With me?”

“With anyone.”

Evan didn’t flinch. He just nodded slowly. “Okay. No labels.”

There was a pause, quiet but charged. Then Evan tilted his head, concern in his expression. “Did something happen?” he asked softly. “Is there anything I should know, so I can… help? Or just understand this better?”

I swallowed hard and looked away. “It’s not something I feel like unpacking right now, if that is ok. It’s old. Complicated. Not really your problem.”

He didn’t push, just watched me for a beat longer, the air thick between us.

I let out a breath. “I want to keep seeing you. Let it be whatever it is. No expectations. Just… let it happen.”

He turned toward me, closer now, voice gentle. “Okay. I can do that.” Then, with a quiet honesty that hit me square in the chest: “I’m yours, if you want me.”

And this time, I didn’t panic. I wanted that. “I know,” I said.

He didn’t reach for my hand. Didn’t move closer. He just smiled. And we kept walking .

After the walk, I wasn’t ready for this day to end.

I had missed him, despite trying to avoid believing that.

We were halfway back to the parking lot when I found myself saying, “Do you want to come over? We could order something. Watch something dumb. Or not talk at all. I’m pretty good at sitting in silence. ”

Evan didn’t even hesitate. “I love dumb food and dumb movies and deeply meaningful silences.”

And that was that.

We got to my apartment, Evan stepped in, kicked off his shoes without asking, and made a beeline for the couch like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“I love that your place smells like candles and self-doubt,” he said as he flopped down.

“Excuse me,” I said, tossing my keys on the counter. “That is a cedarwood and bergamot candle. It was expensive.”

“And the self-doubt?”

“That’s complimentary.”

He laughed and pulled a blanket over his legs. “You ordering? Or am I?”

I grabbed my phone. “I will. What kind of pizza do you like?”

He leaned back against the cushions, thoughtful. “Hmm. Sausage, mushrooms, black olives.”

I blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Why?”

I turned slowly toward him. “That’s my exact go to order.”

Evan squinted at me. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Down to the last olive.”

He smiled, that real one that started in his eyes. “Guess I’ve got great taste.”

I raised an eyebrow as I placed the order. “Or we’re both just weird.”

“Both things can be true.”

By the time the pizza arrived, we’d fallen into an easy kind of quiet.

No pressure. No unnecessary thoughts crowding the air.

Just warmth. He didn’t wait for me to give the okay or gesture to the couch.

He just slid over as I returned with plates, scooted until his thigh pressed against mine, and tugged the blanket over both of us like we’d done this a dozen times.

He even stole the first slice out of the box. Bold.

“I hope you know,” I said, nudging him gently with my elbow, “this is the beginning of a turf war. ”

He took a bite and chewed, totally unfazed. “If you wanted the first slice, you should’ve moved faster.”

“Or I could just kick you out.”

He turned, mouth full, eyes smug. “You won’t.”

And he was right. Of course he was right.

I picked up the remote and started scrolling through options. “Okay, important question. What are your thoughts on Clue ?”

Evan furrowed his brow. “Like… the board game?”

I blinked. “No. Well, yes. But the movie. Tim Curry. Madeline Kahn. Multiple endings. Peak cinema.”

He looked sheepish. “Never seen it.”

I turned slowly, as if I had misheard him. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I haven’t seen it,” he repeated, clearly bracing himself.

I stared at him, mouth slightly open. “That’s… how did… what do you mean you haven’t seen Clue ?”

Evan shrugged. “It just never came up?”

I put a hand dramatically to my chest. “I have to reevaluate everything I thought I knew about you.”

“Okay, wow. Harsh.”

“Do you also hate joy and impeccable comedic timing?”

He laughed, reaching for another slice of pizza. “Oh sweetie, that’s you who hates joy. Also, you’re being very intense about this.”

“Because it’s important,” I said, dead serious. “This is a cultural education. And now I feel morally obligated to fix this oversight.”

Evan held up his hands. “Fine, fine. I surrender. Educate me, O wise film snob.”

“Damn right,” I said as I queued it up.

I pressed play on the movie that I’ve watched too many times already (I could quote the whole thing, line by line), and let myself relax into the weight of him curled against my side.

Evan’s head dipped against my shoulder sometime around the time Professor Plum and Ms. White slurped their soup, his hand warm where it brushed my thigh under the blanket. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to.

I didn’t pull away.

In fact, I leaned into it.

And for the first time in days, my mind wasn’t spinning. My chest wasn’t tight. It was just me, Evan, pizza, and a movie. I didn’t care about anything else at all.