5. Haven
5
Haven
T he longer I sit on this couch, the heavier it gets. It wraps tight around my chest, squeezes behind my ribs, settles like a fist in my stomach that refuses to unclench. Every passing second drags louder. My palms are damp and my leg won’t stop bouncing. I keep checking the same three apps on my phone like something’s going to change.
Cassie, of course, has completely abandoned me. She’s sprawled across the bed in the next room like we didn’t just drive fifty-something miles to meet a guy I’ve never seen in real life. She’s scrolling like it’s just another day, like I’m not five minutes from having a full-blown anxiety attack and possibly yeeting myself out the nearest window.
I wish I could be that calm. That detached. That cool, b ut I’m not.
Now I’m about to see his face. His real face. What if he doesn’t like mine?
Sure he sees it on stream, but what if I make a weird face, or my hair goes crazy. What if I say something awkward or weird or try to make a joke and it just dies in the space between us?
My fingers twist in the hem of my hoodie as I try to breathe like a normal person, not someone actively questioning every life choice that led to this moment.
Expectation versus reality. That’s the space I’m trapped in. Every late-night message. Every flirty comment. Every time he called me babe or sent a stupid gif that somehow made me blush, it’s all led to this.
I pull my knees up to my chest, phone balanced against my thigh, eyes darting toward the clock for what has to be the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes.
He should be here by now. Maybe he’s outside, hesitating, second-guessing, running through all the same overanalyzed scenarios that I am, all the potential outcomes stacked against each other like some unwinnable bet. Maybe he’s parked down the street, mentally preparing, wondering if this will be a letdown, if I’ll be different in person, if the chemistry we’ve built through nothing but messages and voice chats will actually translate into something real.
I gnaw at my bottom lip, debating whether to wait him out or—nope. Screw this. I grab my phone and tap out a quick text before I can talk myself out of it.
Me : Are you here?
I hit send and immediately regret it. I can’t just sit here in limbo now, waiting for him to make a move. Now, the ball is in his court, and there’s no taking it back, no pretending that I’m anything other than ridiculously, annoyingly nervous about this whole thing.
I stare at the screen, watching for the three little dots, my breath held tight in my chest like it’s waiting for permission to let go.
Seconds stretch into something that sits just below my ribs, pressing inward with too much force. My phone lights up.
Carter : Yeah
That’s it. One word. Simple. Direct. But somehow, it makes my pulse jump. I exhale slowly, fingers hovering over the keyboard, trying to decide how to respond, but before I can type anything, another message pops up.
Carter : I’m outside.
My stomach flips. I push off the couch, smoothing my hands down my thighs, shaking out the nervous energy curling in my fingers before I walk toward the door. I can feel my heartbeat picking up pace, an unsteady rhythm knocking against my ribs, but I swallow it down and reach for the doorknob. Here we go.
The second I open the door, the night air rushes against my skin, crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of rain and the lingering warmth of pavement that’s been holding onto the last bit of daylight.
Then I see him. His car is parked just a few feet away, engine off, headlights dimmed, but he’s still sitting there, fingers curled around the steering wheel, shoulders tense, looking like a man staring down something much bigger.
I hesitate for half a second before stepping onto the porch, my weight shifting just enough to make the wood creak loudly underfoot. His head snaps up at the sound, and I swear I can see the exact moment the panic sets in.
His eyes locked on me like I’m a final boss fight he’s woefully underprepared for. For some reason, that makes me feel a little better.
With a slow inhale, he pushes the door open and steps out, unfolding himself from the driver’s seat like the universe just forced him into one hell of a do-or-die situation.
Holy. Shit. My brain short-circuits. Completely blanks, because whatever I thought I was prepared for? This is not it.
Maybe I was expecting soft around the edges. Something closer to the voice I’ve heard through my headset a hundred times warm, low, a little self-deprecating. The kind of guy who wears hoodies with worn-out elbows and smiles like he doesn’t know what to do with compliments.
Carter is none of those things.
He’s tall— tall —and lean in that broad-shouldered way that doesn’t register until he’s standing in front of you, and suddenly the air feels thinner. His black T-shirt clings just enough to hint at the muscle underneath, sleeves stretched slightly around biceps I was absolutely not prepared for. His jeans are worn in, low on his hips. His dirty blonde hair is messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it all morning.
Brown eyes find mine with this soft, almost stunned expression. For a moment, I forget how to stand. Forget everything except the fact that I’ve spent months imagining this guy and somehow he still manages to knock the breath right out of me.
The part that unravels me in an entirely different way, it that he looks nervous . Like he’s the one wondering if this is going to live up to everything we built between keyboard clicks and late-night messages.
Before I can stop myself the words are already out of my mouth. “Wait. Why the hell have you never sent me a picture?”
Carter blinks. Visibly startles. “Uh—what?”
I gesture toward him, eyes sweeping helplessly down and back up again. “You look like that, and you let me go months thinking you were… what? Some cozy, hoodie-wearing, maybe-a-little-soft around the edges guy who probably smells like coffee and responsibility?”
He stares at me. Stuck somewhere between deer-in-headlights and trying very hard not to smile.
“I mean, you do still probably smell like coffee,” I add, already spiraling. “But this? This should’ve come with a warning label. A goddamn waiver.”
Carter opens his mouth. Shuts it. Rubs a hand over the back of his neck like he’s suddenly forgotten how to exist. “I—uh—I didn’t think it mattered?”
“Mattered?” I repeat with disbelief. “You’ve been catfishing me with kindness while looking like this ? ”
He laughs. Actually laughs. It’s soft and a little raspy, like he doesn’t quite believe any of this is real. “I didn’t want to make it weird,” he says, eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners.
“Oh,” I shoot back, still reeling. “Right. Because this is super normal for me. Meeting the guy I’ve been flirting with and finding out he’s secretly the walking definition of off-limits hot.”
He scratches the back of his head, cheeks flushed. “You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m panicking , ” I correct, breath catching. “Big difference.”
But as I look at him, the fact that he still hasn’t stopped watching me like I’m the part of this he can’t believe I feel the spin of it slow. Just a little.
Yeah, he’s gorgeous. Yeah, my expectations are six feet under and I’ve been steamrolled by reality in the hottest way possible. It’s not about that now though, it’s about this space between us. The history of everything we’ve shared without ever standing in the same room. And now we’re here.
Now I get to find out if the tension, the comfort, the connection feels just as good in real life as it always did online.
And god, I hope it does. I take a slow breath, shift my stance, force the conversation forward.
“Come on, Carter,” I say, stepping off the porch, keeping my tone light, playful, like I didn’t just completely lose my mind for half a second. “We doing this or what?”
He blinks again, like he’s still catching up. Finally, he smiles, and instantly the tension breaks.
Carter is still looking at me, like he’s trying to process reality in real time, and I’m just about to break the silence with some dumb attempt at humor when a door swings open behind me.
“Havie, did you leave your—” Cassie’s voice cuts off mid-sentence.
I blink. Oh. Shit . I never told Carter she was coming.
Cassie is standing in the doorway, surveying the scene with way too much curiosity, her eyes bouncing between me and Carter like she’s mentally cataloging everything for later interrogation.
Carter’s brows lift slightly, and I can see the exact moment he registers what’s happening.
“You… brought backup?” he asks, voice lighter than I expected.
I shift awkwardly. “Uh. Surprise?”
His mouth quirks, the tension from before easing into something almost amused. “I mean,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets, grinning just a little now, “I can’t even be mad. That’s honestly kinda smart.”
Cassie finally steps fully outside, giving Carter a once-over that is just nosy enough to be offensive. “You must be Carter,” she says, tilting her head.
“And you must be Cassie,” he replies easily, and just charming enough to make me nervous.
Cassie narrows her eyes like she’s trying to decide something. Then she nods, satisfied. “Okay, you’re cuter than I expected. I approve.”
I groan. “Cass.”
Carter laughs, clearly unbothered. “Glad I passed the test.”
Cassie waves a hand. “You’re not out of the woods yet.”
Carter looks at me almost amused, and I fight the urge to melt into the ground. I should have warned him. Should have given him a heads-up that Cassie was coming, that he wasn’t just meeting me tonight, but also my best friend who now has front-row seats to my first in-person interaction with him.
“Well,” Carter finally says, adjusting, recovering far better than I am. “Guess we’re making this a group thing, then.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, uh… that okay?” He shrugs, easy. “Of course.”
Cassie smirks. “Smooth.”
Carter just shakes his head, shooting me a quick glance. “You guys eaten yet?”
I think about the sad granola bar I had on the way here. “Not really.”
“Well,” he says, pulling out his keys, “there’s that coffee shop not far from here. I’ll drive, you can save your gas.”
Cassie raises an eyebrow at me like this is some kind of test. I ignore her, nodding toward Carter. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”
He gestures toward his car, stepping ahead to open the passenger door for me, and I catch a glimpse of the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I don’t know what’s supposed to happen tonight. But I do know one thing, Carter is just as easy to be around in person as he was behind a screen. That might be the most dangerous thing of all. He wasn’t lying the coffee shop is close, barely a five-minute drive from the Airbnb. It’s small, warm and inviting, with wood-paneled walls, string lights hanging across the ceiling, and the smell of fresh espresso weaving through the air.
Carter walks in and I can’t help but wonder how many times he’s been in this exact spot, waiting on coffee, talking to people who know him in ways I don’t. It’s a weird thought, and I don’t like it. I shake it off as we get in line, my fingers tapping an aimless rhythm against my thigh as I glance up at the menu.
Cassie doesn’t even pretend to consider her options. “Havie, get something other than an iced white chocolate mocha for once in your life.”
I scowl. “Excuse you, that’s a classic . ”
“You’re predictable.”
“I’m consistent.”
Cassie snorts. “Tell that to the barista who already looks like she’s memorizing your order.”
I glare at her, but Carter cuts in smoothly, his voice laced with teasing. “What, you mean she gets the same thing every time? I never would’ve guessed.”
I elbow him lightly, ignoring the way his grin does something stupid to my insides. The line moves quickly, and soon enough, we’re rattling off our orders, Cassie gets some elaborate syrup-filled monstrosity, I get my perfectly respectable iced white chocolate mocha, and Carter unsurprisingly, gets black coffee.
“Jesus,” Cassie mutters when he says it. “Are you okay?”
Carter grins. “What, too boring for you?”
Cassie tilts her head. “I mean, it’s kind of a serial killer vibes order, but hey, you do you.”
I groan, grabbing my drink and heading for an open table before Cassie can say anything else embarrassing.
We settle into a corner table, the occasional hiss of steaming milk filling the space between conversations from other tables. I’m just about to take a sip of my drink, trying to mentally prepare for normal small talk, when Cassie leans forward, locking eyes with Carter like she’s about to conduct a goddamn investigation.
“So.”
Carter lifts a brow, not remotely fazed. “So?”
Cassie rests her elbows on the table, fingers laced together like a lawyer about to cross-examine a witness. Horror curls up my spine. I know that look. I shoot her a warning glance, yet she ignores me. “You and Haven have been talking for, what? A year?”
Carter nods, blowing on his coffee. “Just about.”
Cassie hums slowly, like she’s filing that information away for later. “And in all that time, you never thought to send her a picture of yourself?”
I groan. “Cass—”
Carter’s mouth quirks in amusement. “I figured she’d see me eventually, I’m not really the picture taking type.”
Cassie snorts. “Yeah, well, you had her shocked . ”
I glare at her. “Literally nobody asked you.”
She waves me off, laser-focused on Carter. “I mean, come on. You have to know you’re hot.”
I choke on my drink. Carter just leans back in his chair, the picture of ease, like this is all very normal for him. He lifts his cup, taking a slow sip before tilting his head slightly in my direction. “What do you think, sweetheart?”
My soul leaves my body.
Cassie gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh my god, you flirt like that in person too?”
Carter just grins, completely unbothered by the fact that I am currently experiencing cardiac arrest. I force down my embarrassment, glaring at both of them. “I think,” I say pointedly, “that we should talk about literally anything else . ”
Cassie laughs, but lets up, barely. Carter? He just sips his coffee, like he’s winning some game I didn’t even know we were playing.