Page 5 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)

Noah

I wasn’t a creature of habit.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

No favorite spot. No go-to order. No routines. Routine meant predictability, and in my personal life, that wasn’t something I invited. Work? Sure. Structure meant control. But comfort? Familiarity? That felt dangerous.

And yet… here I was. Fifth time this week. Same booth at The Rivermere Bistro. Laptop open. Coffee in front of me. Eyes on the screen.

The leather of the seat had started to mold to my shape. The once-distracting hum of conversation was now a steady backdrop. It should’ve been the perfect workspace.

But the cursor blinked at me. I wasn’t typing. I was distracted.

And I knew exactly why.

Across the room, Evan Mitchell laughed, unmistakable, unavoidable, and cutting straight through my concentration like a blade.

He was magnetic, seamlessly weaving through tables with confidence like he belonged in every corner of it.

Hazel eyes full of mischief. That easy smile.

He could easily connect with people and joy was like something he handed out for free.

The kind of person I’d spent years convincing myself I didn’t want. Didn’t need.

And yet, I kept coming back .

It wasn’t about the coffee. Or the atmosphere. Or the convenient corner booth. It was about him. He intrigued me. More than I wanted him to. And the worst part was, he knew it.

He was behind the bar, laughing with Callie.

I knew them; everyone in Havenwood did. Still, I wasn’t part of the inner circle the way Evan was.

Liam, the owner of The Stag and Lantern Bar, and Elliott had introduced me to the group a while back, and they’d welcomed me easily enough.

They were good people. Loud. Kind. Fiercely loyal.

But I wasn’t a regular fixture at their dinners or game nights or whatever last-minute hangout they pulled together. Not like the others. I preferred the quiet. Preferred work. Or maybe I just liked knowing I could leave without explaining myself.

Still, Callie always smiled when they saw me. Always said hi like it mattered that I showed up at all.

I caught myself watching him again. The way he leaned in when he laughed was infuriatingly magnetic.

His shirt stretched just enough across his broad shoulders, his sleeves carelessly pushed to his elbows, drawing attention to those frustratingly perfect forearms tanned and dusted with the faintest hint of freckles.

My gaze dragged lower and, god help me, the way his pants fit just right, perfectly tailored to the lean muscles of his thighs, tapering down in a way that was unfair, almost intentional.

But my dick twitched unexpectedly in my pants at the sight, and I quickly averted my attention, shifting in my seat and clenching my jaw hoping to hide my reaction.

I looked away fast, swallowing a long sip of coffee like it could erase the heat creeping up my neck.

It didn’t help.

Because Evan moved.

In my peripheral vision, I caught him pushing off the bar, rolling his shoulders like a boxer preparing to step into the ring. He scanned the room, his gaze sweeping over the tables. And then, because the universe clearly hated me, he turned. Our eyes met.

The moment of recognition.

A slow, knowing smirk.

And then he started walking straight toward me.

I scowled into my cup like it had personally offended me, but it didn’t ground me.

Not when Evan’s presence filled the room like gravity itself had shifted.

His voice lingered long after he spoke. His laugh felt like a challenge.

He was too much, and I hated how aware of him I was.

The sound of his name, the pull of his attention, the way my body responded when I wasn’t paying close enough attention .

I didn’t even like him.

So why the hell did I keep showing up?

I drank my coffee and set the cup down harder than I meant to, liquid sloshing near the rim. It was the Wi-Fi, I told myself. The food. The lighting.

But the excuses felt thinner every time I used them.

I raked a hand through my hair, already annoyed with myself.

Because if I wasn’t careful and I let this keep building, I’d have to admit the thing I’d been avoiding since Mark destroyed me when he left me.

I was already into Evan.

I was focused on my laptop, deep in thought. Or pretending to be. Because the moment Evan appeared beside me, dragging a chair from a nearby table and swinging it around to sit on it backwards, arms folded over the top, eyes locked on mine, whatever momentum I had vanished.

Evan smiled. “Afternoon, Noah.” His smile only widened as my shoulders tensed, just slightly.

I didn’t look at him right away. Couldn’t. Not with him that close. My brain tripped over itself trying to stay focused, but he was in my space now, leaning forward, legs spread on either side of the chair and his forearms flexed where they rested.

I glanced at him. He was closer than last time. So close I could catch the faint, clean spice of his cologne, something warm with just enough bite to it. I could smell him, and for a split second, I forgot what I was doing. Why I was here. Who I was.

I blinked. “I don’t believe I ever told you my name.”

Evan tilted his head slightly, a spark of mischief playing at his mouth. “You didn’t have to.”

I finally turned my head toward him fully, a mistake. His grin widened, and I could see the freckle just beneath his left eye.

My eyes narrowed, trying to reel it back in.

He tapped his pen against the back of the chair. “Havenwood is a small town,” he said casually. “Word gets around.”

I groaned softly, scrubbing a hand down my face before resting it at the back of my neck. “I don’t have a reputation.”

He hummed. “Depends on who you ask.”

I didn’t argue. Didn’t trust myself to. One- that would be a win for Evan. And two, not with my body doing exactly what I didn’t want it to do, responding.

Instead, I reached for the cup I’d almost forgotten, grateful for the excuse to break eye contact. The ceramic was hot, but I needed the burn. Needed something to ground me.

I took a drink, letting the silence steep between us.

Evan leaned in just a little more, his chin balanced on his forearm now. “Alright, Noah. Tell me something.”

I sighed, letting the sound fill the space between us.

He chuckled. “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

I lifted an eyebrow. My lips twitched, almost against my will.

He caught it. He tilted his head again, voice playful, but there was something deeper under it. “Why are you always this grumpy?”

I blinked. Then blinked again. What the hell was I supposed to do with that ?

Evan watched, amused, as the words landed, and I processed the fact that someone just asked me that outright. “Excuse me?”

“Is that really the first time you’ve heard that about yourself?

” Evan smiled as he stared right into my eyes.

“You walk in here every time like it’s a personal offense that the restaurant exists.

You glare at the menu like it owes you money.

And you talk to me like I personally set out to ruin your day, when we both know…

,” he let his smile grow, “I’m the highlight of it. ”

I scoffed, shaking my head, I felt a faint flush at the tips of my ears. “You think very highly of yourself,” I replied, knowing full well he was absolutely right.

“I know myself,” Evan corrected, cocking his head. “The real question is, do you?”

I had no response to that. Not one I was willing to give, anyway.

My immediate relief was felt the second Elliott strolled through the front doors.

Elliott was a steady presence. Always the level-headed one ready to give advice or a calming word. And right now? I was praying for an intervention.

I raised a hand in greeting, not-so-subtly signaling Elliott to join me, like Evan wasn’t sitting directly across from me.

As Elliott started over, he lifted his chin toward Callie at the bar and shot them a quick look. “Hey, Callie.”

That, of course, drew their attention, and their smirk turned positively wicked as they clocked where Elliott was headed.

I followed Elliott’s glance, giving Callie a small nod of acknowledgement before they could say anything .

They didn’t let the moment hang. “Well look who left their Batcave,” Callie called out across the restaurant, their voice playful. “Hi, Noah.”

“Hello, Callie.”

They winked like they’d just won something. Not afraid to poke the bear, even when the bear was clearly trying to be invisible.

Elliott, thankfully, didn’t comment on the look I must’ve been wearing. He just laughed softly, making his way over to my booth.

“Oh good,” I said as Elliott slid into the booth across from me. “I am glad you saw the text asking you to join me.”

Evan chuckled. “And I was not invited to this experience?”

I pointedly did not answer.

Elliott leaned back against the booth, his looks passing between the two of us like he was mentally piecing things together.

“Evan,” he greeted casually.

“Elliott.”

“Running drinks this afternoon?”

Evan grinned as he glanced over at me. “That and antagonizing your date.”

I made a noise of protest. “He is not my…”

Elliott held up a hand, cutting him off. “Don’t strain yourself, Patel.” Then, shifting seamlessly, he turned back to Evan. “Alright, what are the drink specials this afternoon?”

Evan clearly liked that Elliott could silence me so deftly and quickly. He braced his hands on the edge of the table. “We’ve got a blood orange bourbon smash that’s been a hit this week, or if you’re more of a tequila guy, there’s a smoked rosemary margarita that’s a personal favorite.”

Elliott considered. “Let’s go with the bourbon.”

“Good choice,” Evan said, standing as he turned the chair back around and returned it to its original table. He then turned and headed to the bar.