Page 31 of Collide (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #1)

Do I Wanna Know?

T he waves lap along the shore, stars twinkling in the sky.

Sitting by the bonfire, I glance at Logan, then down at the red cup cradled in my hands.

“Cut!” calls the director.

“You did great,” Mark says softly, draping a blanket over my shoulders.

It’s almost three a.m., and exhaustion has begun to creep into my bones on the third and final day of filming my music video at La Jolla Cove.

The director approaches Logan and me, his expression encouraging but focused.

“Elena, that was perfect. For this next shot, we’ll reset here by the fire.

You’re looking into your drink, reflecting.

You glance toward Logan, shake your head gently like you’re chasing away a memory.

Then you stand, toss the drink aside, and walk briskly to Logan.

Logan, you pick her up, embrace her tightly, and then lean in close, almost kissing. End scene.”

“Sounds good,” Logan says, his eyes bright, his long blond hair dancing in the breeze.

I smile, giving Logan a playful thumbs-up as we head back to our marks.

“Places!” the director calls.

I hand the blanket back to Mark and take my spot by the fire again. Inga bustles over, dabbing a powder puff against my face and fussing with my hair before stepping aside.

“Action!” the director yells.

My song begins playing, and I silently mouth the lyrics, slipping into character. As I move toward Logan, he easily lifts me into his arms. My heart jolts, instantly transported back to Alex carrying me during laser tag, butterflies flaring in my stomach.

But when I look up and realize it’s Logan, not Alex, holding me, a giggle bubbles out before I can stop it, completely shattering the romantic tension.

Shit.

“Sorry, sorry.” Laughter still clings to my voice as I stumble through the apology. The director shakes his head like he’s used to this.

It takes another four takes before we finally nail the shot and another two hours before I’m in my bed. I close my eyes andsuddenly, it’s morning, and the bright sunlight feels blinding. I groan, forcing myself up to start the day.

Riley and I spend the morning ordering room service and getting ready. She’s chirpy, clearly having had a full night’s sleep. I’m on my second cup of coffee, my eyelids barely hanging on.

Logan and Mark arrange our entry into Geek-Fest, and we’re quickly greeted by a perky girl with bright turquoise hair, vibrant red lips, oversized glasses, and a Geek-Fest shirt.

“Hi! You must be with Logan,” she says brightly, her grin way too chipper for how much my head is pounding. She leads us backstage to the green room, chatting the whole way.

Inside, Logan is slouched in a gray chair, looking every bit as tired as I feel.

“Hey, Hollywood, nice to see you again!” Riley calls out, her curls bouncing as she heads straight for him.

Logan lifts his head and gives her a tired smile, pulling her into a quick bear hug before plopping himself back in the chair.

“Hey, cuz.” He shoots me a glance, mouth tipping into a crooked grin. “You look how I feel.”

I groan. My eyes feel like they have gravel in them.

“How’d you pull up?” he adds, studying me.

I drop into the chair opposite him, rubbing my face. “Barely functioning,” I mutter, my voice hoarse.

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, same. I don’t think I’ve had less sleep in my life.”

I huff. “I think my body’s still on that beach, freezing, dancing like it’s two a.m.”

Logan groans. “Don’t remind me. Whoever thought cold nights on a beach was a good idea deserves a slap.”

Riley raises a brow, glancing between us. “So that’s why you guys look like the undead.”

Logan grins tiredly. “I’m pretty sure we hit dawn before they called the last take.”

I mutter, slouching deeper into the chair. “I’m running on fumes and bad coffee.”

Logan nods in solidarity. “I think I’m still wearing yesterday’s deodorant.”

Riley snorts, amused.

“So, I’m guessing you’re not up for the VIP party tonight?” Logan asks, raising a brow.

A party? I can barely keep my eyes open.

“We’ll be there!” Riley chimes in before I can even open my mouth, her grin wide and determined.

Just then, a staffer pokes her head in. “Mr. Fisher? They’re ready for you.”

Logan stands with a sigh, stretching like it takes all his effort. “Showtime.” He flashes a small grin before following her out.

The door shuts behind him, and Riley wastes no time grabbing a chocolate-covered strawberry from the table, turning to me with a glint in her eye.

“Wanna check out the exhibits?” she asks, taking a bite like she already knows I’ll say yes.

I sigh, feeling like I’ve been steamrolled, but Riley’s excitement is hard to resist.

“Sure.” I offer a tired but real smile.

As we walk around the convention center, it’s wall to wall with attendees, some dressed in incredibly elaborate costumes. There’s so much to see and take in.

A few fans recognize me, stopping briefly to snap photos and ask for autographs.

Despite the buzz and excitement all around us, something else soon grabs my attention, and my heart drops straight to the floor.

Riley and I pause near a towering promotional poster, and my breath catches in my throat.

There, looming above us, with piercing eyes and a fierce, battle-hardened expression… It’s him .

Alex.

My cheeks burn as I stare up at his face, larger than life, like the universe is playing some cruel joke on me.

“What the actual hell is this?” I snap, my voice sharper than I intend, but I can’t stop the anger rising in my chest.

Riley turns to me, confused. “What do you mean? It’s a promo poster for The Almighty Nordic Gods ,” she says casually, as if that explains anything. Like I’m supposed to know.

I whirl around to face her, eyes wide, heart racing. “ This .” Gesturing manically at the poster, my hand trembles slightly. “This is him !”

Her brows knit together. “Him?” she echoes, clueless.

“ Alex! ” I hiss, glaring at her like she should already understand.

Riley blinks at me, her mouth opening and closing like she’s trying to catch up. “Wait… your Alex?”

I let out a shaky breath, my anger simmering below the surface. “Yes, my Alex. Or…not my Alex, apparently.”

She stares at me, and then her eyes start to widen as the pieces finally click into place.

“Hold on.” She points between me and the poster, connecting invisible dots, her voice stretching with disbelief. “Are you telling me your Alex—handsome stranger Alex—is that Alex? Alexander fucking Westerberg? The blond god from The Almighty Nordic Gods ?!”

I cross my arms, glaring up at the poster. “Apparently,” I mutter, my voice thick with sarcasm.

Riley scoffs, almost like a squeal. “Oh. My. God. Elena, you’ve been hooking up with him ? He’s, like, an actual celebrity!” She’s grinning now, practically bouncing on her toes, clearly way too entertained by this.

I shoot her a withering look, air thick in my lungs. “Yeah, trust me, I just found out too.”

Riley’s eyes stay glued to the poster, her mouth still agape, while I press a hand to my forehead, trying to steady my breathing.

“I mean…wow, okay.” Riley shakes her head, clearly stunned. “This is kind of insane.”

I let out a bitter laugh, still staring up at his stupid, beautiful face. “Yeah. You think?”

Riley nudges me gently, still trying to process. “Elena…are you okay?”

I shake my head, doubt clawing at my throat. “No. No, I’m not. Because the guy I thought I was falling for? He’s been lying to me this whole time.”

“Wait, you didn’t know?” she asks.

“No,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

She falls silent, finally realizing how deep this cuts. And as I stand there, my heart shattering piece by piece, I wonder if I ever really knew him at all.

My pulse roars in my ears as I try to process what I’m seeing. The crowd around me fades, voices blending into a distant hum like I’m underwater.

Riley must notice because her hand closes firmly around my wrist, grounding me. But it’s too late—the anger is already burning hot and fast through my veins, and before I can stop myself, I’m moving.

I stride toward the panel doors, every step fueled by betrayal and disbelief.

My gaze sweeps the stage, my eyes darting between the actors seated in a neat row. One of them—an actor I vaguely recognize—is wearing some kind of ridiculous horned helmet. Beside him is a stunning blonde with legs for days and a smirk like she owns the world.

And there, in the center—like this is all perfectly normal—sits Alex.

“Excuse me,” I blurt out to a staff member standing in the aisle, my voice tight with urgency. “The guy speaking now—who is he?”

The staffer arches a brow, caught off guard, but answers right away. “That’s Alexander Westerberg. He plays Thor—Thor Odinson, on The Almighty Norse Gods . He’s?—”

His words blur into nothing as I stare at Alex— Alexander Westerberg —sitting there like he belongs to this world of flashing cameras and screaming fans, grinning that magnetic smile that made me weak in the knees.

A whirlwind of anger and confusion churns inside me as he laughs at something the moderator says, his eyes scanning the audience, oblivious to me.

“Does anyone have any questions?” the MC calls out, smiling wide.

Without thinking, I raise my hand high—sharper, faster than anyone else—and practically snatch the microphone the moment it’s offered.

“ Me. ” My voice is strong and unwavering.

Alex’s gaze lands on me, and instantly, his smile falters, and his entire body stiffens.

“Hi. I’m Elena Montgomery.”

The name hits him like a punch. His face drains of color as whispers ripple through the room.

Beside him, the blonde glances between us, her smirk growing even more pleased, as if she knows something I don’t.

I tilt my chin up, refusing to let my voice shake. “I’m curious…What draws you to your character?”

It’s a stupid question. I don’t care about Thor or his character arc. I care about the man sitting on that stage—the man who lied to me.