Page 14 of Collide (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #1)

Edge of Desire

A dull pain in my head jolts me awake. I blink, disoriented.

Where am I? I raise my hand in front of my dazed vision and realize I’ve pulled the duvet over my head like some sort of cocoon.

Slowly, I sit up, and the room greets me with nothing but shadows, the soft glow of early morning sneaking through the blackout curtains.

I glance at my phone, still in my hand from last night, and see the time—nine thirty a.m. The buzzing excitement I’ve been trying to ignore stirs in my stomach.

Three unread messages?

I grin at the screen, replaying the playful, borderline flirty texts Alex and I had shared over the last couple of days, and well into last night. A welcome distraction from all the resting and recuperating I was supposed to be doing.

I wanted to rush to the studio, get the new song out of my head before it slipped away, but Mark had insisted I follow the doctor’s orders. At least until San Diego next week.

Shifting out of bed, I walk over to the window and pull the curtains apart. Water droplets cling to the glass like crystal diamonds, making the outside world look almost magical. The sky is dull and gray, and the rain falls steadily, blanketing the city streets in a quiet, melancholy haze.

There’s something about the way Alex texts—casual but enough to make my heart flurry.

I unlock my phone, already smiling, eager to read whatever he’s sent this time.

A dull ache pulses in my head, dragging me from my thoughts. Thanks, Alex , I think with a half-sigh. A souvenir from our first meeting. But I can’t help but smile as butterflies in my stomach dance at sight of his messages.

Alex

Say yes to the date. Don’t make me beg… unless you’re into that.

You fell asleep on me, didn’t you? Rude. Sweet dreams, Elena. Try not to dream about me too much. Or do.

Morning, little hobbit. Still in bed? Or already off-stealing hearts today?

Stealing hearts? Me? I scoff at myself. If only he knew.

I can’t help but smile at the ‘little hobbit’ message. Maybe we’ll watch Lord of the Rings together one day. The thought makes my chest flutter. He’s got a way of making me feel like I’m the only person on his mind.

I bite my lip, unsure of how to respond. I decide on a casual text.

Elena

Good morning, Alex. Staying in, doctor’s orders! What about you?

After a refreshing shower, I slip into a soft pink lounge set and crawl back into bed. Laptop balanced on my knees, I check my phone—still no reply from Alex. I sigh, disappointment creeping in as I scroll through my messages.

Then, without thinking, I call Riley. I just need to hear her voice.

“Elena!” Riley sings into the phone, her voice bright and bubbly.

“Hey babe,” I reply, trying to sound casual, but the excitement I’m feeling is hard to hide.

“How’s it hanging?” she asks.

“A little to the left.” I laugh, though my smile fades almost instantly. I hesitate, then say it out loud. “Alex asked me on a date.”

Without missing a beat, Riley blurts out, “Say yes.”

“But I barely know him,” I protest, even though I know deep down, I’m already half-tempted.

“That’s exactly what dates are for,” she quips. “Getting to know someone.” She laughs knowingly. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve actually dated as an adult.”

She’s not wrong. I’ve never really had the chance to explore that side of things.

A movie date with a boy I thought liked me, only to get ditched. An awkward invite to a high school dance. It had been so long, years , since I’d even gone out with a guy.

None of it counted.

They weren’t dates.

Not the way Alex meant it.

“Okay, maybe we could hang out as friends, or would that be weird?” I ask, fidgeting with my notebook.

“Um, no! Do whatever you’re ready for,” Riley exclaims. “You said he’s handsome, right?” She’s practically shouting now.

Handsome is too small a word for him. He has the kind of face that makes you burn with desire, and so tall, it’s almost intimidating.

Eyes as deep and stormy as the sea—dangerous, enticing, and far too easy to get lost in.

Am I willing to surrender myself to it? I bite my lip, feeling that familiar ache in my chest.

“Listen, babe, I can’t talk right now, but I’ll text you at lunch. You have my permission to go have some fun, as friends or otherwise, though I hope for your sake, you pick the latter.” She ends the call before I can protest.

With Riley’s reassurance, I start typing a witty text to Alex—something cheeky, just flirty enough—when my phone buzzes.

My heart jumps.

No caller ID flashes across the screen.

“Riley?” I pick up.

“Elena.”

It’s him. The way my name rolls off his lips makes my skin tingle.

Damn.

“Yes, this is she,” I respond smoothly, even though I’m practically melting inside.

What is wrong with me? I barely know him.

“Feeling better today?” Alex asks, his voice low and smooth, and I can practically hear the mischief in it. What’s he planning?

“I’m alright. Resting like a good little girl,” I say, rolling my eyes at myself for sounding so sarcastic.

“Well, I like good girls,” he teases. I swear, the way he says it takes my breath away. “Can I come see you today?”

Oh. My. God.

I sit up straight, excitement flooding me. Did he just ask to come over?

“So you can flirt with me in person?” I push, a little breathless, not quite used to this version of myself.

“Absolutely.” He chuckles, the sound making me smile like a giddy schoolgirl.

“Don’t you have work or something?” I ask, biting my lip to hide my grin, hoping I’m not coming off too eager.

“Elena,” he says with a playful sigh. “I work for myself. Plus, I’d like to come spend some time with you, as I’m out of town next week.”

A nervous thrill fizzes under my ribs. I stand up to look around outside and make sure Philippa and Andrew are gone.

All clear.

“Really?” I quip. “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with yourself.”

“I’m sure myself wouldn’t mind,” he replies, his voice dripping with amusement.

“I’m sure he won’t.” I giggle, feeling bolder now.

“Text me your address,” he says, and there’s a clear note of anticipation in his voice.

“Okay.” I start typing it out, but my fingers and nerves betray me.

This is happening. As friends or otherwise.

“See you soon.”

“Bye,” I murmur, already imagining what this might turn into.

Once I recover some sense, I quickly text him Phillipa’s address. Please don’t be a serial killer . A silent prayer as I send it off.

Next, I fire off a quick message to Riley, letting her know he’s coming over. I don’t know why I’m being so vague, but I don’t want to give her the full play-by-play…yet.

Gingerly, I run a brush through my hair, avoiding the tender spot, and try to make myself look halfway presentable. He cannot see me in fluffy pink pajamas, no matter how comfortable they are.

Heart racing, I leap to the rack of clothes Rio left, frantically sifting through options.

Does anything here not scream club rat or desperate? With a sigh, I give up and cross to my dresser. A white camisole and black velour lounge shorts will have to do.

I dash to the bathroom, swiping on lip balm, blush, mascara—just enough to make me feel pretty.

Back in my room, I scramble to tidy up, tossing clothes into the hamper, straightening cushions, taking deep breaths between tasks. He’s just coming over to hang out. It’s fine.

But God, I’m nervous.

The penthouse phone rings, and I bolt to the living room to answer it.

“Miss Montgomery, there’s a Mr. Sigurdsson here for you,” says Issac, the doorman.

Shit.

I quickly exhale. “Let him up.”

I try to catch my breath.

I’ve never been this jittery over a guy before. I sneak a last-minute check in the hallway mirror, running my fingers through my hair, my nerves dancing to the rhythm of my heart.

I hear the elevator ding, and take another deep breath.

There’s a soft knock on the door. I count to ten before opening it.

And there he is—the blond god himself. He’s towering in the doorway, looking impossibly striking in a black shirt, soft distressed jeans, and sneakers.

His hair is slightly damp, and he’s wearing that sexy grin I’ve come to expect.

In one hand, he’s got two paper bags, and in the other, a tray of drinks.

“Hi,” I murmur, feeling the heat rising to my face.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greets me, and before I can process it, he plants a soft peck on each of my cheeks. His scent—a mix of citrus and the ocean—wraps around me, making my heart race.

Beautiful.

He thinks I’m beautiful.

“Nice home,” he says, closing the door behind him.

“Thanks,” I mutter, trying not to sound too flustered. “It’s, um, my sister’s and her fiancé’s. She’s got great taste.” My words stumble out a little.

Is it weird to feel this nervous? Then again, I’ve never actually done this before.

His eyes trail over me, then drop to my feet.

They linger on my house slippers for a beat, then, without a word, he kicks off his shoes.

That simple act—so casual, yet so deliberate—makes my heart race.

I can’t help but feel a little giddy, like he’s playing along with some unspoken game between us.

His eyes briefly flick down to my lips and then my chest, lingering a moment longer than necessary before meeting mine again, a glint of something unreadable flashing in them. I feel… exposed .

I bite my lip, trying to ease the tension winding tight in my core. “Come this way.” I usher him into the kitchen. He follows me in silence, like it’s no big deal that he’s here, standing in my space. He places the items he’s brought on the kitchen counter.

“So,” I say, flashing him a cheeky grin as I sit on the stool beside him, “to what do I owe this impromptu visit?”

“I was in the neighborhood, thought you could use some breakfast,” he lies smoothly, his grin widening. He empties the contents of one paper bag, which has two wrapped bagel sandwiches, then picks up the other tumbler on the tray and hands it to me.