Page 23 of Collide (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #1)
“Oh, babe,” Riley gushes, bounding toward the extravagant display. She snatches up the small, cream-colored card, fanning herself dramatically before handing it over to me with a flourish. “Someone’s smitten.”
My pulse flutters like hummingbird wings, nerves tumbling wildly as I reach out, fingers grazing the heavy cardstock. My eyes catch on the embossed letters: A.W.
Hmm. Probably the florist?
Curiosity burning, I open the card, revealing the short, elegant handwriting inside:
“?lskling, you are beguiling. Thank you for the private concert. See you again? Yours, Alex.”
Every inch of my skin tingling as I reread his words. A rush of giddiness dances its way through me.
“What does it say?” Riley demands eagerly, bouncing impatiently at my side.
I hesitate, biting my lip, my voice barely above a whisper. I read it.
Riley’s scream pierces the quiet of Philippa’s penthouse, her delight echoing off the high ceilings as she shakes my shoulders, practically dancing around me.
My heart pounds wildly, overwhelmed by Alex’s words and Riley’s exuberance, both hitting me like a wave.
“Call him!” Riley demands with urgency. “Say yes!”
“Riley, he’s in San Diego,” I say with a shrug, trying to play it off.
“Weird. You’re headed there too, right?” she asks, raising a brow.
“Yeah. Coincidence, for sure. But…yeah, he said we should meet up,” I admit, fiddling with the edge of the card.
“Then call him, text him, make it happen—the ball’s clearly in your court,” she says, matter-of-fact.
“I don’t know…” I mumble.
“You like him, right?” Riley presses, eyes on me.
“Yeah,” I admit, the word slipping out quieter than I expected.
Until Alex, boys had come and gone like unfinished songs—light verses, no chorus, barely leaving a mark. But he crashed into my life like the sudden beat drop in a song. Inevitable, bursting with quiet anticipation before rising into a crescendo.
Riley watches me for a beat longer, reading the shift in my face, then she softens.
“Okay. I’ll give you some privacy. I’ve got to pack anyway.
Call your hunk-a-spunk.” She grins, pulling me into a warm hug before stealing one last dramatic inhale of the roses, the scent now wrapping itself around me like a spell.
“Love you,” I call after her.
“Love you most,” she calls back, already halfway down the hall—and then she’s gone.
I can’t call him. Not yet. Not while my fingers itch to capture this ache, this dizzy, spinning feeling still blooming in my chest.
It’s all for him—every beat, every line already humming in my blood.
I slip into my room, barely breathing, grabbing my notepad and guitar from where they wait near the window. I drop to the floor, legs crossed, the weight of the roses still lingering in the air like perfume.
The words spill before I can stop them. The melody follows, simple and slow at first, then rising, lifting like the breath after a kiss.
‘Cause it’s your touch, your hands, your name in my mouth.
First time I let someone in, didn’t shut them out.’
Lost in the melody, my mind drifts.
“So, did you tell Logan that you like him?” my mother asked, her face full of hope, voice light, like we were talking about shoes, not boys.
“I don’t know, Mom.” I sighed, watching her as she chopped vegetables with rhythmic precision. “I feel like guys only want one thing. They call me frigid…and the girls, they make fun of me for being quiet.”
She didn’t pause in her slicing, just gave a small hum of disapproval. “I’m glad you’re being cautious and not letting boys use you. But don’t shut people out, Anak. Give them a chance to know you. You might be surprised.”
“Jason invited me to the movies and basically asked me to suck his—” I cut myself off, lowering my voice, “—you know what before the movie even started.”
She gasped, knife pausing mid-air, looking like she was ready to castrate him. “That boy is a pig. Next time, slap him in the balls.”
“Sure you don’t want to cut them off?” I said.
She barked out a laugh, and I joined in, a high, warm sound that filled the kitchen.
“That’s exactly what I mean! Is it so bad to want the kind of person the singers write about in songs? The one who makes your heartbeat fast like it might burst?”
She smiled at that, slicing the last of the carrots. “My special girl, that’s a lot to ask of one date.”
“Hey, it worked for Romeo.” I shrugged.
“Yeah, and then they died,” she deadpanned.
We giggled like schoolgirls.
There was a pause, soft and fleeting, like the moment before a sigh.
“I’m probably not the best person to take advice from, I suppose. Look how your father and I ended up.”
“Yeah, but he cheated on you,” I said, rolling my eyes.
She turned back to the stove, her shoulders squared, the back of her neck rigid.
She shrugged—casual, light—but I caught it.
That flicker of regret. The quiet collapse behind her ribs.
Pride, cracked years ago. She hid it well, but when she spoke about him, it was always there.
Like a scar she could never scrub clean.
The memories of my mother crack open something deep in me. Her voice echoes faintly—full of wisdom and comfort, flooding back in waves that leave me hollow and full all at once.
I wish she were here. I need her advice, her calm certainty.
Because the truth is, I’m scared. Scared of jumping into something with Alex, scared of what it would mean if I let myself fall too fast. But the feeling of being wanted by someone like him—someone so confident, so magnetic—is intoxicating.
It wraps around the oldest part of me, the wound I’ve carried since childhood, the one that whispers that I wasn’t enough. He quiets that voice.
Making me feel like maybe I am enough.
Now I have written two songs about him. He is the first person I’ve ever written about before I even knew it.
I used to write about what it would be like to find love, to want love, to need love, without ever having experienced it. I locked myself away to protect myself, too scared to get hurt, too scared to try.
Now, this unshakable feeling is consuming me. He’s the one who sparks a lyric before I even hear the chord. He is the drop, the pulse, the melody my heart has been searching for.
My phone sits beside me. I reach for it, thumb hovering over his name.
Alex.
I send him a message—simple, easy, something that won’t give too much away.
Elena
They’re beautiful. Thank you.
I hit send before I can second-guess it.
I don’t even notice I’m humming the song.
His song. The one I couldn’t get out of my head.
My phone buzzes almost instantly. I hit answer.
“Hello.” His voice hums through the line, smooth and amused. “You got my surprise.”
“I did.” I smile, curling into the throw blanket wrapped around my legs. “They’re wonderful. Thank you again.”
He chuckles, low and pleased, like he already knows the effect he has on me and enjoys it.
“How was the flight?” I ask, trying to sound casual, like I haven’t been waiting for this call all day.
“Not too bad. A little turbulence over Colorado, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” He pauses. “When do you fly out?”
“End of the week. Will you still be there?”
“Yes,” he says easily. “So…do you have an answer for me?”
My fingers tighten around the phone. My heartbeat stutters. “About what?” I tease, stretching it out, even though I already know exactly what he means.
“A second date.”
My lips curve before I can stop them. “Okay.”
Silence. But I hear it—that quiet breath, the subtle shift of someone smiling to himself. That smug little sound he makes when things go his way.
“Good.” His voice dips slightly. “Maybe we can meet up while you’re here.”
“Okay,” I murmur, already picturing it. Sunlight. Heat. His hands. All of it.
“Do you know where you’re staying?”
“I’ll text you the details,” I add, shifting onto my side, the phone warm against my cheek.
“I can’t wait. Do you like animals?”
“Yeah,” I grin. “So long as it’s not ferrets.”
He laughs, and it spills through the speaker like warm honey.
I close my eyes and let it wash over me. God, I’m in trouble.
A grin tugs at my lips as I bite down gently, my chest aching in that warm, dizzying way I thought I’d forgotten.
And just like that, I’m already counting the days until I can see him again.