Page 36 of Collide (The Rhapsody of Heartbeats #1)

I bite my lip. “Yeah, he said he wants to savor it and own all my pleasure.”

She swoons, dramatically collapsing on the couch and fanning herself.

I laugh at her. For years, I always listened and gasped at recounts of her sexual exploits, cheering her on, scraping my jaw off the floor at some of her more daring pursuits, and now, I’m the one sharing.

Even if it’s tamer in comparison, it feels good to have something to share.

For so long, my life played in monotone, then Alex burst in like a symphony, and now I feel music in my bones again.

“Babe, you’re telling me not only did he give you an under-the-sea production of Puppetry of the Pussy , but now that six-foot-something Viking dreamboat is going full hotel buffet on you before noon?” She laughs, giving me a slow, dramatic golf clap. “You’re living the dream.”

“He is hot, isn’t he?” I say, a little giddy.

“Yes! Now tell me—was it Oscar-worthy, or are we talking high school theatre production?”

I bite my lip, hesitating, but then—what’s the point in pretending? I blush, covering my face with my hands. “It was…incredible. I mean, I didn’t know my body could even do that.”

“Do what?” she asks, brow raised, amused and intrigued.

“You know, squirt .” I whisper the last word, feeling the heat creep up to my ears.

“He made you what ?! Oh, God bless that beautiful man!” Riley squeals, her hair dancing around as she throws her hands in the air like she’s having a spiritual awakening. “He’s a fucking stud and he knows what he’s doing…How does it feel to be God’s favorite?”

I giggle, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying, this is big. And I don’t mean his schlong.” She sits up straighter. “Elena, you’re dating Alexander Westerberg. A-list actor. Supermodel. International heartthrob. You’re, like, the envy of half the world’s female population right now.”

The weight of her words settles over me, and I chew on my lip. Dating. It feels too soon to call it that, doesn’t it? And yet, what else is this?

Sensing my hesitation, Riley nudges my knee with her foot. “Look, I know this is all new for you, but babe, you’re hot, he’s hot. Just enjoy it.”

I frown slightly. “Enjoy it?”

“Yes.” She nods firmly. “Try not to overthink things like I know you do. Have fun and collect those orgasms like Pokémon cards.”

I inhale, letting her words sink in.

“Okay, I’ll try.”

“Good…But,” she adds, leveling me with a look, “also take care of yourself.”

I nod slowly. “I know.”

“Do you?” She tilts her head. “I don’t just mean rubbers and birth control. I mean look out for yourself. You’ve never done this before. And I don’t think you’re the type to do casual. Just check in with him, figure out what this is and where you stand.”

I shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know what this is yet, Riley. I just—” I hesitate. “I like him. And I want to see where this goes.”

She studies me for a moment before breaking into a smile. “Then that’s all you have to know right now.”

A warmth settles in my chest. She’s right. For once in my life, I don’t have to have everything figured out. I just have to feel.

Riley grins again. “Now, I have one last question…”

I arch a brow. “What?”

She smirks. “Have you seen his dick yet?”

I hurl a pillow at her face.

Riley is still cackling as she dodges it, but before she can fire back, my phone buzzes loudly on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with Kylie .

I frown.

“Oof.” Riley winces. “That can’t be good.”

I sigh, swiping to answer and putting her on speaker as I lean back against the couch. “Hey, Kylie, what’s up?”

“What’s up?” Her voice is exasperated, her signature no-nonsense tone kicking in immediately. “Oh, nothing much, just the entire internet losing its mind over you and Alexander Westerberg!”

“What?”

“I’m sending you the link now, but long story short, there’s a piece about you and him from Geek-Fest, and it’s making waves. And to make things even more interesting…” She pauses, like she’s bracing herself. “A new photo of the two of you on a date in Brooklyn just surfaced.”

Riley and I exchange a wide-eyed look.

“Wait, what photo?” I ask quickly.

“You know better than to ask me that,” Kylie huffs. “The internet sees all. You’re in Brooklyn, at some little hole-in-the-wall place, sitting next to Alex, and it looks…” She hesitates.

“It looks like what?” I press.

“Like a date. A real one. Not some staged, publicity stunt date, an actual date.”

Fuck, that was us at The Drip on our first date! Such an invasion of our privacy.

Kylie continues, undeterred, “It’s already picking up traction.

The tabloids are running headlines like ‘Alexander Westerberg’s New Mystery Woman’ and ‘Could This Be His Next Big Love Story?’ So far, it’s speculative, but Elena…

” Her voice softens slightly. “This is going to blow up. We need to be strategic.”

I exhale sharply, pressing my fingers to my temple. “So, what do we do?”

“Well, first, do I need to prepare a statement?” Kylie asks. “Are we confirming? Denying? Staying silent?”

Riley wiggles her eyebrows at me, silently mouthing confirm it like an absolute menace.

I shoot her another glare before focusing back on the phone. “I-I don’t know.” I hesitate, my pulse thrumming. “Alex and I haven’t even talked about this.”

“Well, you better talk to him soon, because if you don’t control the narrative, someone else will.”

My voice sticks in my throat. This is all happening so fast.

“Kylie, I don’t want to be known for who I’m dating. I don’t want this to overshadow my album launch. What should we do?” My voice is edged with concern because this is all new to me. I never expected to get involved with someone whose fame was of this magnitude.

Kylie exhales, the sound clipped with the kind of exhaustion only PR teams experience when dealing with celebrities who hate being celebrities.

“First, we take a firm stand: no comments on your personal life. Let everyone speculate all they want, but we do not feed into it.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Okay. That makes sense.”

“Second, public appearances need to be planned from now on. No more spontaneous dates that can be misinterpreted or used against you. If you’re seen together, it needs to be intentional. We get ahead of the story, not behind it. Alex’s people have already been in contact with me.”

I shift uncomfortably, the weight of her words pressing in. “That sounds…controlled.”

“It’s PR. Controlled is the whole game.” Kylie’s voice isn’t unkind. Then she hesitates, like she’s about to drop the real bomb. “You also need to talk to Alex about whether you’re planning to take this relationship red-carpet.”

I falter, eyes wide. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Kylie sighs, her voice calm but direct, “do you want to be photographed together at events? That’s essentially a hard launch of you as a couple.

You don’t confirm anything, but you also don’t deny it.

You show up together. Let people speculate.

If asked, you give neutral responses: ‘He’s great,’ ‘I’m proud of his work. ’ Simple. Elegant. Non-committal.”

“Okay,” is all I can manage because my mind is spiraling.

“But if you take that approach and you break up”—Kylie doesn’t hesitate—“there will be fallout to manage.”

Silence.

I press my fingers to my temple. This is exactly what I didn’t want.

“Look,” Kylie adds, softening slightly. “I know you’re not used to this, but this is the reality of dating someone like Alexander.

You and your budding career come first. I am here to protect your image.

I couldn’t care less about him, but you need to decide what you’re comfortable with.

Because the second you step onto a red carpet with him, it’s game over.

The world will start seeing you as part of his story, whether you like it or not. ”

The thought chills me.

I don’t want to be someone’s story. I want to be known for mine.

Riley, who’s been listening with wide eyes, finally speaks. “Damn,” she mutters. “It’s like you’re negotiating a peace treaty.”

I throw a glare in her direction.

“Got it, Kylie, thanks.”

Kylie exhales, relieved. “Good. Talk to Alexander and let me know what you decide. Now, go enjoy your last day in San Diego and please, for the love of all things holy, if you’re with him, stay inside.”

The call ends, leaving a heavy silence.

I stare at the phone, feeling like the ground has shifted under me.