Page 8 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)
Evan
Callie and Sam were already perched at the bar, happy hour cocktails in hand, engaged in their usual routine of casual gossip, dramatic eye-rolls, and unsolicited opinions.
“I’m just saying,” Callie drawled, swirling the ice in their blood orange bourbon smash, “if Renzo doesn’t get his act together and actually ask that girl out, I will personally intervene.”
Sam, his book propped open on the bar, barely looked up. “You say that every week.”
“And every week, he continues to pine from a distance like some kind of tragic literary hero,” Callie shot back before turning their pointed eyes on me. “Evan, back me up.”
I leaned against the polished wood, smirking as I wiped down a clean glass. “Oh, absolutely. The tension between them is thick enough to carve with a steak knife.”
Callie shot Sam a triumphant look before sighing dramatically. “It’s exhausting, really. How do people survive without our meddling?”
Sam didn’t even blink. “Poorly. But it builds character. Or at least good content.”
Callie scoffed, then turned back to me. “So, Evan. Speaking of tension. Any developments with your favorite grumpy tech bro?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You act like he’s some great mystery to solve. ”
Callie arched an eyebrow. “He is. A fascinating, broody mystery who keeps showing up here despite claiming he doesn’t want to.”
Sam tapped his book closed, giving me a long look over the rim of his glass. “And you keep finding reasons to take his table.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Sam beat me to it.
“Oh, please. I talked to Elliott at school the other day about this situation. He says you’re just as bad as Noah.
Both of you, pining in opposite corners like you’re stuck in some slow-burn romance novel.
You’re just willing to relentlessly flirt but not make an actual move. ”
Callie let out a scandalized gasp, equal parts thrilled and smug. “Wait. So, both of you are into each other? This is better than reality TV.”
I rolled my eyes, but my face was already warm.
The Bistro’s front door swung open. And there he was. Like clockwork.
Noah Patel was a man of discipline. It showed in the way he moved: measured, cautious, always in control. His dark hair was neatly styled, his clothes pressed, his jaw clean-shaven. Everything about him looked polished and put-together.
Here he was.
Again.
His face turned toward the bar, taking in Callie, Sam, and me.
For half a second, something almost hesitant flitted across his face. But then, as if shaking off whatever thought had caused it, he took a breath, squared his shoulders, and strode toward his usual table like he had something to prove.
Interesting.
I turned back to Callie and Sam, setting my towel down on the bar. “I’ll be right back.”
Callie gave me a knowing look. “Of course you will.”
I shot them a wink before grabbing a fresh coffee, black, no sugar, no nonsense, exactly how he liked it.
Noah was already pretending to be focused on his laptop by the time I reached his table. I could tell he wasn’t actually typing. He was trying hard to look busy.
I set the coffee down.
“For my most loyal repeat customer,” I taunted, sliding into the seat across from him like I belonged there.
Noah looked at me, briefly. Then immediately back at his laptop. “I’m not a repeat customer. ”
I smiled. “Sure. Just six times in two weeks, huh? That’s a coincidence?”
He didn’t argue, “I’m a repeat customer.”
He laughed as he took a careful sip of coffee, lingering for a moment like he was actually savoring it before setting the cup back down.
“Slow night?” he asked, and the casual way he said it nearly caught me off guard.
I lifted a brow. He was making conversation. Voluntary conversation.
I tilted my head, smirking. “Are you asking about my day?”
Noah huffed, shaking his head.
I chuckled. “Nah, I like it. Feels almost like a normal interaction.”
He mumbled something under his breath. His usual sharp edge was dulled. If anything, there was a faint, almost imperceptible trace of warmth beneath the usual exasperation.
Before I could push further, an arm slung around my shoulder and pulled me in for a quick hug. Callie and Sam had dropped a few bills down for their tab and were passing by Noah’s booth on their way out.
“See you at Elliott’s cookout tomorrow night,” they said. “It should be a perfect night to sit by the fire with wine!” Callie ruffled my curls.
Sam turned to Noah. “You better be going, too. You are way past due to be out and about with us for a night.”
Noah blinked, clearly caught off guard, but not flustered. “I am,” he said. “Elliott asked. I said yes.”
Callie laughed, bumping his shoulder with theirs. “Ooh! Then I’ll savor every second of it.”
They gave Evan one last squeeze and moved toward the door; Sam tossed a lazy wave over his shoulder. “Don’t be late, boys. We’ll save you a spot near the wine.”
Then, just like that, they were gone.
Noah went still. Not in a normal way. In a way that sent alarm bells ringing in my head. His grip tightened around his coffee cup, and his shoulders squared a little too much, like he was bracing for impact.
Then, cautiously, he asked, “You’re going to Elliott’s cookout, too?”
I leaned back slightly, nodding. “Yeah. Elliott and Jules invited me last week.”
His dark brows furrowed. “I didn’t realize you were that close to them. ”
Something in his voice, cautious and suspicious, made my grin return in full force.
I lifted my brows. “Why? Worried this is some kind of elaborate setup?”
His scowl deepened, which only confirmed that was exactly what he was thinking.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Relax, Patel. I’m pretty sure Elliott and Jules have better things to do than plot our social collisions.”
Noah made a noncommittal sound. “You’re probably right. But I think I am more worried about Sam and Callie.”
I chuckled. “But for the record… if this was a setup, would it be such a bad thing?”
His stunned look snapped to mine.
I shrugged, standing up. “Just something to think about.”
And with a wink, I walked away, leaving Noah to stew in his own thoughts, looking adorably rattled.
Tomorrow night?
Yeah.
This was going to be fun.