Page 29 of Collide

Weird.

“The doctor tells me you’re being discharged,” she says, turning her attention back to me, pulling me out of my thoughts as she smooths her frazzled hair. I finally take a look at her and realize she’s not dressed in her usual polished manner, but innavy sweats, her hair barely brushed, not a bit of makeup. She must have rushed here as soon as she received my message. The thought tugs at something inside me.

“I’m okay, but I need the bathroom.” I smile at her, and she finally relaxes a little. I stand up, feeling a bit unsteady.

“I’ll help you,” Alex and Philippa say in unison.

She shoots him a glare, clearly annoyed, but Alex cocks his head to the side, unfazed.

“I can manage,” I insist, grabbing my clothes and making my way to the ensuite.

When I come back, the room is tense. Alex is sitting on the guest lounge, and Philippa is leaning against the bed, holding discharge papers. Alex immediately stands and is by my side in two strides.

“Elena, I have somewhere I need to be.” Alex hesitates. “Call me, okay?” He hands me a small piece of paper with his number on it, his hand lingering against mine once more, sending a shiver through me.

“Sure, I owe you for dinner last night.” I nod, trying haphazardly to joke, my voice barely shaking, feeling shy under his intense gaze and gentle touch.

Philippa’s eyes are practically burning into us.

“No, you don’t,” he whispers. Leaning down, he gently cups my face and plants a kiss on either side of my cheeks, leaving me blushing and breathless. He picks up his baseball cap and leaves the room. Finally, I take a long breath and try to calm myself.

“Was that an online date gone wrong?” she asks, her eyebrow arched, having watched the exchange unfold before her.

I burst out laughing, finally coming back down to Earth after the heady experience. When I catch my breath, I recall the entire absurd situation to her as best I can.

In the car, Philippa is on her phone talking to my father. “Yes, Dad, she’s okay. A few stitches, nothing too serious. No, some guy. Yes, okay, I’ll see you in the office later.”

I nod absentmindedly, but my mind drifts back to Alex—his beautiful eyes, the calm presence that settled in the room when he was there. I’ve never met anyone like him before. How can you possibly have such a connection with someone you hardly know?

Is it chemical? I know no man has ever affected me the way he has—his intense gaze, the way his eyes pierced right through me, his hands that seemed to know exactly where to touch, and those lips…

“Elena…Elena!” Philippa calls out, her voice pulling me back to the present.

Oh, and that smile…

“Earth to Elena!” she yells, grabbing my arm and shaking me, snapping me out of my fantasy.

“Uh, yes?” I mumble, flustered, my mind hazy.

“Are you alright?” she asks, eyeing me like I’ve sprouted another head.

“Yes, sorry, just sleepy,” I lie, forcing a small smile to cover up the real storm brewing in my head. I don’t want to talk about Alex with her yet, not when I’m still so confused about the whole thing.

“What was that guy’s name again? He looked so familiar,” Philippa asks, but before I can answer, her phone beeps, and she’s back to business, her attention fully diverted as she takes a call.

Alex, I think to myself. His name isAlex.

I’m lyingin bed later that afternoon, back at Philippa’s apartment, replaying every stolen moment with Alex like some love-sick teenager. Sure, I’ve had crushes in the past, but somehow, this feels different. Alex isn’t a boy—he’s all man.

His stormy eyes peered into my soul like he knew me. He touched me like he couldn’t help it. And for once, I craved it. His closeness had felt natural, almost like he couldn’t stay away, but maybe I’m reading too much into it.

The more I turn it over in my mind the more I wonder if the spark between us, could lead to something…more?

As thoughts of Alex swirl in my head, there’s a shift—faint at first, like a tickle at the base of my skull. I barely recognize it. It has been so long. My fingers itch.

I leap out of bed and grab my guitar, my hands moving over the strings like they’ve been waiting. A melody surfaces, sprouting from the back of my mind, my heart finally finding the rhythm to say everything my words cannot.

Within half an hour, I’ve written a song. For the first time in years. It feels good. No,great.