Page 21 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)

Not just Evan being here. Not just the feel of him taking up space in my bed, in my apartment, in my goddamn head. But this, the quiet companionship that stretched beyond the playful, teasing conversations, beyond the lingering touches, beyond the push and pull of whatever this was.

His sweatshirt had made its way onto the chair by my desk. His favorite coffee sat in my cabinet, right next to mine. There was a book, one of his, left half-read on my nightstand, his page dog-eared because he was a menace who refused to use bookmarks.

His presence was bleeding into my space.

And I wasn’t stopping it.

I enjoyed when he kissed me goodnight. I wasn’t telling him to go home after he fell asleep beside me. I wasn’t resisting the way my bed felt less empty with him in it.

I turned my head, my phone slipping from my grip as I took him in.

Evan, curled beneath my sheets, breathing slow and deep, oblivious to the war waging in my head. His skin glowed soft under the dim light, his lips slightly parted, his eyelashes fanned dark against his cheeks.

Something in my chest tightened.

I reached out, hesitating just for a moment before I brushed the curve of his shoulder.

His skin was warm beneath my touch, solid and real, the slow rise and fall of his breath steady and familiar.

I let my palm drift lower, tracing over the dip of his spine, feeling the way his body unconsciously reacted, a quiet sigh escaping him as he shifted in his sleep.

I didn’t mean to press closer.

Didn’t mean to stay close.

But I did.

I curled against him, my forehead barely grazing the back of his neck, my arm draping loosely around his waist. He stirred, not fully awake but aware enough to move into the touch, his body instinctively seeking mine.

And then, Evan shifted again, pressing back against me in his sleep, his ass snug against my groin.

A jolt of heat shot straight through my body to my crotch, instant and unbidden, my cock stirring to life at the sudden friction.

Fuck.

I sucked in a breath, stilling completely, my hands flexing slightly where they rested against his hip .

Evan, completely unaware, let out a soft sigh and burrowed deeper into the sheets, his body molding effortlessly to mine, his warmth pressing into me in a way that was both intoxicating and dangerous.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to breathe slowly, carefully. Hoping that would calm the anxiety.

This wasn’t happening.

I wasn’t going there.

Not now. Not like this.

With a careful slowness, I pulled back, rolling onto my other side, putting a few inches of safe, necessary distance between us. I pressed my face into my pillow, willing my body to calm the hell down, trying not to focus on the warmth he left against my skin.

Eventually, my breathing evened out.

Eventually, my dick got the message and settled down.

Eventually, sleep pulled me under.

But even then, the memory of his weight against me lingered.

Evan

The Rainbow Taproom buzzed with life. A busier than typical Friday night in May crowd, bodies swaying to the beat of a Miley Cyrus remix, laughter spilling over the edges of conversations.

Neon lights pulsed against polished wood, the glow catching on the rim of cocktail glasses and the shine of sequins.

Noah was here, hanging at the bar with Sam, the two of them deep in conversation.

He looked good. Too good. Dark jeans, fitted short-sleeve t-shirt that showed the lean cut of his arms, while he held on to a lowball glass.

He wasn’t brooding, not exactly, but there was a tension in his posture, something in the way his gaze fell over the room.

I should be playing it cool. Throwing back a drink, leaning into the chaos of the night, letting someone, or something, distract me from the fact that I was caught up in a situationship with a man who, despite sleeping beside me most nights, refused to name what we were.

But instead, I kept hearing Sam’s comments and Callie’s questions.

They’d taken up space in my head and made it even harder to sort out what I felt. Or what I wanted to feel.

Instead, on my way to the bar I got pulled into the corner booth by Maxie Glam, Havenwood’s reigning queen of queens and the self-crowned queen of knowing everyone’s business. And apparently, my business was very much on her radar .

Maxie sipped her martini, her expression an infuriating mix of amusement and mild pity. She let the silence stretch just long enough to make me squirm before finally speaking.

“So let me get this straight,” she drawled, swirling the olive around in her drink like she had all the time in the world. “You’re sleeping together, he lets you cuddle him like a human koala, and yet… nothing?”

I let out a short, bitter laugh and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Nothing. And why is everyone so concerned about my sex life?”

Maxie hummed, tipping her glass up savoring the next swallow like it held all the secrets in the world.

Then she set it down and leveled her eyes at me.

“Sugar, I don’t give two shits if you’re fucking Noah or getting fucked by him.

That’s your business. What I am talking about is whatever the hell this relationship limbo is you’ve got going on. ”

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off with a raised brow and a smirk that was almost affectionate.

“You’re in purgatory, babe. Floating somewhere between ‘just friends’ and ‘can’t keep your hands off each other,’ and it’s only cute for so long.”

She reached for her glass again grabbing her spear of olives, satisfied, like she’d just read my tarot with a single sentence.

I shot her a dry look. “Thanks for the update.”

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “And how much longer do you plan on waiting for him to get his shit together?” She ate one of the olives as she just looked straight behind my eyes, into my soul.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Because the truth? I didn’t know.

And Maxie saw it the second it crossed across my face.

She let out a loud, delighted laugh, snapping her fingers. “Oh, honey. You are down bad.”

I scowled. “I’m not!”

Maxie held up a manicured hand. “Spare me the performance, Mitchell.” She popped the second olive in her mouth as a period to her statement.

I blinked. “Wait…how do you even…who told you?”

Maxie gave me a slow, indulgent smile. “Sweetheart, I run this place. Mother knows all. You think people don’t talk?” She leaned in, conspiratorial. “You think I don’t see the way he looks at you?”

I scoffed. “Noah doesn’t…”

“Doesn’t what? Stare at you like you’re a goddamn math problem he can’t solve?” She tilted her head. “Doesn’t gravitate to you the second you walk into a room? ”

My stomach tightened.

Because… yeah. He did.

And I was so fucking tired of pretending I didn’t see it. That I didn’t want more.

Maxie sighed, stirring her drink. “Now, normally, I’d say patience is a virtue, but in this case? Patience is looking an awful lot like denial, sugar.”

I let out a breath, pushing my hands through my hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do, Maxie? Give him an ultimatum? Walk away?”

She gave me a considering look. “That depends, darling. Are you willing to wait forever?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know if I wanted to hear it out loud.

Before I could respond, a voice cut through the hum of the bar.

“Are you ready to go?”

I tensed.

Maxie said, “Speak of the devil.”

Noah.

He was standing at the edge of the booth, one hand resting casually in his pocket, the other still clutched around his drink. His dark eyes moved between Maxie and me.

Sam had stayed at the bar, watching from a distance, definitely aware that this was not a casual conversation.

Maxie pivoted fast.

“Oh, just some light matchmaking,” she took another sip of her martini. “You know me, selfless to a fault.” She ate the last of her martini olives.

Noah arched a brow. “That’s the last word I’d use.”

Maxie cackled, absolutely unbothered.

I, on the other hand, wanted to evaporate.

Because Noah was here. Now.

And I still hadn’t figured out what the hell I was going to do about him.

His face turned to mine.

“You coming?”

There was no pressure in the words, no demand. Just a quiet question, something steadier than I’d expected. Like he was still giving me the choice.

Like he wanted me to say yes.

I took a moment, then nodded, sliding out of the booth .

Maxie smiled and winked at me as I grabbed my jacket. “See you soon, sugar. Mama needs a refill.”

Noah didn’t ask what we’d been talking about.

And I didn’t offer.

Because if I did, if I acknowledged what was really going on, I wasn’t sure I could keep pretending it wasn’t going to break me.

Noah

A few nights after the night at the Taproom, the low hum of the TV filled Evan’s living room, a soft backdrop to the silence between us.

The credits rolled, casting dancing shadows across the dim room.

The windows were open, letting in the cool May night air.

Leftover takeout and a half-empty beer sat forgotten on the coffee table.

Evan was sprawled on the couch, legs stretched out, his sock-clad feet resting on the armrest. His phone was in his hand, thumb scrolling lazily, but he wasn’t really looking at it. Not really. His attention was split, half on his screen, half on me.

And I could feel it.

That waiting, expectant something hanging between us.

I moved slowly, grabbing my laptop bag from the floor, methodically packing it up even though I didn’t need to. I should’ve left ten minutes ago, but I was dragging this out, like I was trying to make up my mind about something I already knew the answer to.

Tonight had been easy.