Page 18 of Collide (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #1)

Animal

T he Drip is an eclectic little hole-in-the-wall café tucked away in a quiet part of Brooklyn. I’m grateful Alex texted me the directions last night. Otherwise, I’d be lost.

The distressed yellow door groans as I push it open, the scent of freshly ground coffee wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

The place is dimly lit, its back wall all exposed brick, and indie music hums softly in the background. The café is empty—mismatched chairs and tables scattered throughout, with lanterns casting a cozy glow against the dreary rain outside.

Behind the counter, a barista with tattooed arms and a sage-green beanie—an odd choice for July—barely lifts her eyes from her book as I enter.

Alex isn’t here yet.

I choose a large wingback chair by the window, its striped fabric worn and faded, like it’s survived a few lifetimes.

The whole place has character—old records stacked haphazardly on shelves, suitcases spilling over with tiny potted plants, tattered coffee table books scattered across low tables.

Outside, rain drizzles steadily. Pedestrians rush past with their umbrellas, lost in their own worlds.

And then, there he is. Alex.

Standing across the street, waiting to cross, looking as handsome as ever in a long-sleeved white shirt, casually rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms. The same arms that carried me, unconscious, into the hospital.

The thought makes me cringe and swoon. His jeans cling just right, showcasing his athletic physique beneath.

He holds a hand—rather pathetically—over his head to shield himself from the light rain, his lips curling into a smirk as he spots me through the window.

I quickly look down, pretending to scroll through my phone, though my heart is already picking up speed.

The bell above the door chimes.

“Hi!” The barista’s voice chirps from behind the counter, far more enthusiastically than when I walked in. I glance up to see her put her book down, her attention now firmly fixed on him.

I roll my eyes and shake my head.

Okay. So I’m not the only one who thinks he’s good-looking.

Alex’s gaze zeroes in on me. My eyes dart down, hoping he didn’t catch me staring. Footsteps approach. I risk a peek.

Our eyes meet.

He smirks.

I melt.

Before I can second-guess myself, I rise to meet him. His arms wrap around me, the scent of rain and something fresh clinging to him. Before I can linger, he pulls back, planting a soft kiss on each cheek.

The European custom still feels strange to me, but endearing.

“Have you ordered?” he asks, voice smooth, his hand trailing lightly down my back, resting at the small of it.

I shake my head, offering a small, shy smile. “I was waiting for you.”

Something shifts in his expression— nerves?

That’s unexpected. Yesterday, he was full of confidence, so sure of himself.

Is it the pressure of today?

“Coffee?” His arm grazes my shoulder as we step toward the counter. “You drink coffee, right? Or we can go somewhere else.” His words come out in a rush, a rare moment of uncertainty.

I place my hand over his, hoping to steady him. “Coffee’s good.”

The barista is still watching us, her eyes darting between us like we’re the most interesting thing to happen to her all week.

“I’ll have a caramel macchiato, please.”

“Black coffee,” Alex adds, still looking at me.

The barista smiles sweetly. “Can I tempt you with one of our organic, cruelty-free apricot bars?” She punches in the order before he even answers.

Alex turns to me, a playful question in his eyes.

I shrug.

“Yeah, we’ll take two of those,” he decides, handing over a fifty-dollar bill.

“Together or separate?” the barista asks.

He barely spares her a glance. “Together.” A slow smile tugs at his mouth. “Keep the change.”

I frown, reaching for my purse. “No, I can pay for myself.”

He places his hand over mine before I can argue, his touch warm and firm. “It’s a date, remember?” His eyes don’t leave mine as he leads me back to the loveseat pressed against the exposed brick wall.

I expect him to take the seat across from me. Instead, he slides in right beside me. Our thighs touch.

He never lets go of my hand.

A blush creeps up my neck. Holding hands seems so…juvenile. But in this moment, it feels so intimate. Not that I have much to compare it to.

Our conversation picks up from where we left off yesterday, flowing between us so easily. His stormy eyes light up as we exchange stories about our cultures—Sweden, the Philippines, Australia. Between the two of us, we could start up our own little United Nations.

Our drinks arrive, but the conversation never ceases. He gently caresses my hand with his thumb, his long fingers and large hand engulfing mine.

While I talk, Alex leans forward slightly, his fingers curling around his mug, eyes fixed on me with an easy kind of interest. I’m not used to this feeling.

Is this what I’ve gone without all these years?

We bond over our shared experience as children of divorce. He jokes about his family traditions. Tells stories about backpacking through Europe with his friends, even the time he served in the Swedish military.

The nerves from earlier slowly fade away.

By the time our coffee cups are empty, I realize something. I like knowing things about him. And for the first time in a long time, I want someone to know about me, too.

“I had a wonderful time,” I say as we stand, assuming the date is over.

“Done already?” He grins. “You agreed to a date. The day and our date aren’t over yet.” He leans down, his breath warm against my ear. “And maybe the night too.”

The scent of coffee and apricots curls around me, making my head spin. Heat rushes to my cheeks.

Night?

I hope he isn’t expecting anything. Panic rises in my throat.

“Um, that better be a PG-rated night date, because I am not that kind of girl.” I barely manage to get the words out without tripping over them.

He winks, unfazed, and waves down a passing taxi.

I let out a nervous laugh as we pile into the backseat together.

He casually gives the taxi driver the address of our next destination and leans back, draping his arm around me.

For a moment, I stiffen—not from the closeness, but from him . There is something magnetic about him, pulling me in.

I exhale. Letting go, surrendering to the feeling.

“So, where are we headed?”

He smiles. “A surprise.”

We ride the cab in silence, but not the uncomfortable kind. Instead, it crackles with unspoken tension, the kind that makes my pulse quicken.

To my disappointment, the ride ends too soon. The cab pulls up in front of a refurbished warehouse. Outside, the rain’s softened to a mist, enough to walk through without getting soaked.

“What are we doing here?”

“Be a good girl and play along.” He taps my nose, laughing under his breath.

The rational part of me is thrilled. But the irrational part panics.

He’s probably an axe murderer who’s brought me to my final resting place.

But Google came up with nothing!

Well, Google lied.

Philippa thinks I’m out shopping. I should’ve told her where I was.

Before I can think to text Riley, Alex takes my hand, calming my internal panic as he leads me toward the entrance.

“Surprise,” he says, nodding toward the neon sign above the door, flashing that infuriatingly charming smile.

Indoor Extreme Sports.

My eyes widen.

Is he kidding?

“Oh!” I gasp, excitement bubbling up. “What are we doing?” I ask as we walk into what looks like an arcade.

He doesn’t answer, walking straight up to the freckly teenager with braces behind the counter whose name tag says Nick.

“Two for laser tag, please,” Alex says smoothly.

Laser tag!

I’ve never played before—this is so exciting!

I notice Nick’s eyes widen slightly. His reaction to Alex feels… off. Like maybe he knows him. Or maybe he’s surprised by how absurdly good-looking Alex is.

Same, Nick. Same.

“Fifteen minutes or half hour?” Nick asks.

Alex glances at me, waiting.

“Half hour, please,” I exclaim, grinning up at him.

He lets out a low laugh, the sound curling heat through my stomach. “Bring it on,” he teases, poking my side, his touch sending an electric current right through me.

Nick disappears into the back without a word.

“I’ve never played before,” I admit, glancing around at the chaos—kids screaming, teenagers competing, exhausted parents barely keeping up.

Alex’s eyes are on me, unwavering. “You’re going to love it.”

Something about the way he says it makes my breath hitch.

Nick returns with two flashing guns and vests with light panels and padding. Alex grabs one of the vests and gently pulls it over my head, his hands brushing my arms as he clips me in.

Nick holds the gun and explains how the contraption works. We listen intently; however, I’m distracted by the god-like man standing beside me.

“Too easy,” Alex nods, clipping himself into his vest.

“Okay, so if you die, you can’t shoot for five seconds. The person with the most points wins.” Nick sighs, explaining the rules, never once taking his eyes off Alex.

Strange. Maybe he’s gay?

“You’re going down,” I tease, poking Alex’s shoulder.

He feigns a dramatic wince, but his fingers tighten around his gun, muscles flexing beneath his shirt.

My eyes catch the movement—the sharp tension in his forearm, the way his bicep bunches enough to make my breath stutter.

A wicked hunger curls low inside, hot and unexpected.

I shove it down. Locking it away before it can take root.

Nick hands me my gun and gestures toward a dimly lit hallway lined with heavy doors.

“You guys are in Battle Zone Three,” Nick adds, his tone flat with disinterest. “Once you’re in, you have a few minutes to get into position before the timer starts.”

“Thanks,” Alex says, barely paying attention.

Nick musters a nod. “Good luck.”

Alex rests his hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly. My pulse kicks up a notch as I start hatching a plan.

Before I can strategize further, Alex glances over, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.