Page 9 of Glitches and Kisses (The Havenwood #2)

Noah

Elliott and Jules’s backyard was alive with energy, the kind that filled your chest and made you forget, for just a little while, that the rest of the world existed.

Twinkling string lights draped from tree to tree, casting golden halos over the mismatched patio furniture.

Picnic tables had been haphazardly arranged around the yard.

The cool spring breeze of mid-April threaded through the yard, picking up the sweetness of freshly planted flowers, the tang of herbs, the smoky richness of grilled meat, and the warm, citrusy spice of Jules’ sangria, weaving them all into the crisp night air.

Soft music hummed from a portable speaker, blending effortlessly with the laughter and conversation.

Near the firepit, a few people had gathered to warm themselves, roasting marshmallows, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames.

Callie, predictably, had already taken center stage, holding a glass of wine in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other as they regaled an audience with yet another dramatic salon story.

From my spot near the patio, I took it all in. The sounds, the smells, the comforting interactions flowing around me. And, against all odds, I was enjoying myself.

I’d been dreading this, the socialization, the inevitable questions, the expectation to be relaxed and present when my default setting was neither of those things.

But as much as I hated to admit it, the atmosphere was nice.

The kind of gathering where no one was forcing dialogue, where you could sit back, drink, and just exist.

Maybe it was the setting. Maybe it was Elliott’s calming presence or Jules’ ability to make everyone feel like they belonged.

Or maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the man standing beside me.

Evan looked so handsome in his jeans and hoodie

He had been orbiting me all night. Not in an obvious way, not enough for anyone else to pick up on. But I did.

I noticed the way his fingertips brushed the back of my hand when he passed by, fleeting and deliberate, like he was testing how much I’d let him get away with.

In the way he set my drink down before I even had to ask, his smirk lingering like the faint trace of citrus and bourbon on the rim of the glass.

In the way he always seemed to be within reach, just close enough that the warmth of his presence danced along my skin.

And the most alarming part?

I wasn’t pulling away. I wasn’t glaring or rolling my eyes or telling him to cut it out. Instead, I just let it happen. Let him exist in my space without resistance. Let my body register the weight of him nearby, the way his touch felt, intentional, but never demanding. Let myself get used to him.

And I didn’t hate it.

Hell, I liked it. A lot.

The party had fallen into a slower, more intimate rhythm by the time Elliott cleared his throat and stood, resting a hand on Jules’ shoulder.

Jules, mid-laugh, tilted his head in curiosity.

“What are you doing, Teach?” he asked.

Elliott took a calming breath, glanced around the yard, then reached into his jacket pocket.

I froze.

So did everyone else.

Elliott’s voice was steady, but his grip tightened on the velvet box he’d just pulled from his pocket, like he was holding something infinitely precious, like he was anchoring himself.

When Elliott got down on one knee, the world around us disappeared. The chatter, the clink of glasses, the low hum of the backyard party faded until it all blurred into nothing.

I saw Jules freeze, just for a heartbeat, like his brain was catching up to what was happening. His hands hovered near his mouth, trembling the way they always did when emotions ran high, eyes wide and glistening in the glow of the string lights we’d strung up hours earlier.

Elliott’s hand, steady, despite everything, pulled the box from his jacket pocket, gently brushing over the velvet like it was something fragile, something sacred. His voice, low but clear, carried in the hush that fell over all of us.

I couldn’t even process the words. Not really. Something about leaps of faith, about their life together, about light and joy. I just felt the weight of the moment wash over us like a blanket, heavy, but good.

And when Jules let out a shaky breath, the kind of exhale that carried every ounce of disbelief and joy at once, when I saw the tears spill over and his whole face soften, the pause before he answered felt like the longest second of my life.

Then: “Yes. Of course, yes.”

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud. But it was full. So full it made my chest ache.

The yard erupted around us, but I barely noticed. I just kept watching the two of them, locked in their own world. And I thought, yeah. This is what it looks like when two people actually figure it out.

Cheers filled the backyard. Jules was laughing, his hands shaking slightly as he admired the ring on his finger, and Elliot…

Elliott just looked stunned with joy, like he still couldn’t believe he’d pulled it off.

The energy was contagious, buzzing through the backyard like static before a summer storm, electric and unshakable.

And yet, all I could focus on now was the person at my side.

Evan’s arm brushed against mine.

Not an accident this time. Not one of those fleeting, teasing touches he’d been offering all night, the ones that left me wondering if I imagined them.

No, this was on purpose. A slow, lingering press.

The weight of him was solid, the heat of his skin bleeding through the fabric of my shirt, grounding and undeniable.

My body tensed for a fraction of a second, instinct kicking in, that familiar urge to shift away, to create space, to keep things measured, predictable, safe.

But I didn’t.

I let it stay. I let the contact linger, let myself become aware of just how good it felt. That steady warmth that felt less like a boundary being crossed and more like something natural, inevitable. Like maybe, somehow, I’d been bracing for it without realizing.

For the first time, I turned my head and met his look without hesitation .

No scowl.

No biting comeback.

No defensive wall thrown up at the last second.

Just recognition.

Something twinkled in his hazel eyes, something pleased, something undeniably knowing. The corners of his lips curled, not quite a smirk, but something softer, more patient. A quiet victory.

Like he’d been waiting for this shift in me. Like he’d known it was coming before I did. Like he liked it.

The crisp night air carried the last remnants of smoke from the grill.

Laughter still lingered in the air, softer now, like an echo of the joy that had filled the backyard just an hour ago.

Guests were dispersing, moving toward the front yard in slow, lingering goodbyes, like no one really wanted to leave just yet.

Callie clung to Jules for a full minute, whispering something that made him throw his head back with laughter, while Sam shook Elliott’s hand and clapped him on the back in approval.

Elliott’s son, Caleb, was still beaming, nudging Elliott’s shoulder before leaning in to say something that made his dad roll his eyes in amusement.

And somehow, without meaning to, without planning it, without even realizing until we were a block away, Evan and I had left together.

The streets of Havenwood were quiet, lit by the soft glow of streetlights. The pavement still held some warmth from the day. Houses lined the sidewalks, porch lights glowed, and the low hum of insects filled the quiet. And for once, maybe for the first time, the silence didn’t feel heavy.

It wasn’t charged with tension. It wasn’t something I felt the need to break with dry sarcasm or fill with my usual brand of deflection.

It just was.

Like we’d walked in the same direction a hundred times before, even if I was only just now starting to realize it.

“You always walk this fast?” Evan asked lightly, nudging me with his elbow. “You’ve got a whole New York pace going on for someone who lives in a town with two traffic lights.”

“I like getting where I’m going,” I said. “Wandering makes me feel inefficient.”

“God forbid,” he joked. “I’ll try to be more efficient with my charm next time.”

I shot him a look, “You’re plenty efficient with that already. Borderline aggressive, actually.”

Evan chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. ”

The quiet stretched between us, footsteps falling in sync.

Then Evan spoke, light and curious. “So, is this your usual route home, or am I getting the scenic tour tonight?”

“Usual route. Not big on detours.”

“Figured as much,” he said with a nod.

A few steps later, he added, “You’ve mentioned you’re a programmer, a game developer, right? That something you always wanted to do?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Kind of always been wired that way.”

He chuckled. “That sounds like a tech pun.”

“Not intentional,” I said, then paused. “Okay, maybe a little.”

His smile widened.

“Yeah. I was the kid who took apart the family computer. My mom was pissed the first time, thought I’d broken it.

But I just wanted to see how it worked. I built my first computer when I was twelve,” I said, hands in my pockets.

“Mostly so I could run a busted bootleg version of Age of Empires without the family laptop melting down. And I got obsessed. Like… debugging was better than sleep kind of obsessed. Started modding games, figuring out engines, trying to build my own physics systems that never worked. I think I once spent three weeks trying to make a character jump realistically. Just jump. It was garbage. But I couldn’t let it go. ”

I felt myself getting into it, faster, more animated than I meant to be.

“There’s something about it, you know? Starting with nothing, just lines of code, and turning it into something people can play.

Can get lost in. There’s this rush when you finally debug something that’s been breaking for hours, or… ”

I stopped. Realized I was rambling. Realized he was listening. Really listening.

I cleared my throat. “Anyway. Yeah. I’ve always been into it.”

When I glanced over, Evan wasn’t laughing. Just looking at me. His smile was genuine, not mocking at all. “You’re kind of adorable when you nerd out, you know that?”

Before I could stop it, my face flushed, heat creeping up my neck. I ducked my head, the smallest smile pulling at my mouth because no one had ever looked at me like that. Like my nerdiness wasn’t something to tolerate, but something worth noticing.

I kept my focus on the sidewalk, shoved my hands deeper in my pockets, and kept walking.

“What about you?” I asked. “Always wanted to be a waiter? ”

He glanced sideways at me, the corner of his mouth twitching. “God, no. I wanted to be a marine biologist when I was a kid. Thought I was gonna swim with dolphins and save the ocean or something.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“Turns out I hate science classes and look terrible in a wetsuit,” he said with a shrug. “But I like people. I like moments. I like making someone’s day better, even if it’s just by remembering they like extra lemon in their water.”

That caught me off guard. The honesty. The simplicity of it.

“That’s… actually kind of nice,” I said quietly.

Evan looked at me then, more serious than before. “Yeah, well. You’ve got a way of noticing things, too. Even when you pretend you’re not.”

I didn’t respond right away. Just kept walking, hoping he couldn’t hear the way my heartbeat had picked up.

We reached an intersection and came to a stop. Evan shifted his weight and glanced down a side street. “This is where I take my leave and head home,” he said. “You free tomorrow?”

I glanced over at him. “Why?”

He slipped his hands into his pockets and looked ahead, like it was no big deal. “Thinking about going white water rafting. Figured I’d see if you wanted to come.”

I stopped walking. My brain stalled for a solid ten seconds, trying to process the word, as if he had just casually suggested that we launch ourselves into orbit.

“Rafting,” I echoed flatly.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding like this was the most normal thing in the world. Smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing. “You in?”

I stared at him.

Because I should say no. I should scoff, tell him I had work, tell him I wasn’t the kind of person who did outdoorsy things. Tell him I didn’t like rafting.

Tell him I didn’t like him.

But the words didn’t come.

Instead, I heard myself say, “Sure.”

Evan’s grin widened, but, to my surprise, he didn’t gloat. He didn’t tease.

He just nodded, satisfied. “Cool. Let me get your number. I’ll text you the details.”

His hand extended, palm up, waiting .

I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want to give it to him, but because I did.

But before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled my phone from my pocket and passed it over. Evan took it eagerly, thumbs moving over the screen with ease before he handed it back.

“Shoot me a text so I have yours. Goodnight, Noah.” he said. Then he turned and walked off.

I stared at my phone.

There it was.

Evan Mitchell

The wink. Jesus.

Heat curled in my stomach, low and insistent. One stupid emoji, and I was already spiraling.

I needed to text him. That was the next logical step.

I tapped the screen. Fingers hovered.

Noah: This is Noah. I had a good time tonight. Looking forward to hanging out tomorrow.

I hesitated.

Too eager.

Deleted. Rewrote. Deleted again.

Noah: This is Noah.

Too cold.

Sighed. Rubbed my temple. Tried again.

Noah: This is Noah. See you tomorrow.

Better. Direct. Simple. Safe.

Still felt… off.

I could practically hear Evan’s voice teasing me for overthinking.

I hit send before I could talk myself out of it.

A pause.

Then, the three dots.

Stopped.

Started again.

Stopped.

My pulse spiked.

Finally, his response lit up the screen.

Evan Mitchell : Took you long enough, Patel.

Then…

Evan Mitchell : Looking forward to it too. Sweet dreams, grumpy.

My stomach flipped .

I stared at the message, debating a reply. Something clever? Something flirty?

Instead, I just smiled, slipped the phone into my pocket, and kept walking.