Page 153 of Collide
I shove the thought down, take a sip just to have something to hold. The glass clinks against my teeth. My hand won’t stop trembling. I shouldn’t even feel this way. I have Alex. I want Alex. I don’t deserve to feel jealous, not over Broderick.
He huffs out something that resembles a laugh, but it’s hollow, thin. A sound stretched too tight.
“Yeah? Maybe.” His eyes stay fixed ahead. “But they’re not you.”
My heart stops. For a moment. I stare at him, wide-eyed. His face is soft and searching.
I clear my throat, barely keeping my voice steady. “But why? We hardly know each other.”
His shoulders lift in a shrug, slow, resigned. “I don’t know, El. Why does the sun rise? Why does the moon pull the tide?” He turns to me now. “Sometimes someone just…gets under your skin. And stays there. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve known them.”
I freeze. The words land somewhere raw.
The silence between us folds inward, heavy with everything we haven’t dared to say.
I wish the waves could drown out the symphony in my chest.
Broderick’s words linger in the air like suspended notes—warm, honest, and painfully beautiful.
I’m caught between two songs, unsure which one my heart has already begun to sing.
Broderick leans back, bracing on his hands. The distance between us feels both infinite and razor-thin.
His voice is quiet now, almost broken. “You don’t know how much I wish you met me first.”
The breath I’ve been holding rushes out in a single exhale. I stare at him, trying to keep it together.
There it is.
The thing I haven’t let myself name.
The thing that might ruin me if I let it grow.
What if I’d met Broderick first? Would we be here, stuck on this impossible merry-go-round, spinning in circles with no end?
But the darker thought, the one I can’t let myself say out loud? If I’d met AlexafterBroderick…would I still be feeling this way?
Would it beAlexsitting beside me now, telling me I’d gotten under his skin? Would we have almost kissed?
Caught in a war inside my chest, I don’t know who I’m fighting anymore—him, Alex, or myself.
I force out a soft laugh to hide the panic rising inside. “But I didn’t,” I say quietly, the words heavier than I intend. “We can’t play that game.”
Broderick turns fully to face me, his green eyes dark, intense.
“And if we could?” he asks softly.
I look away, heart pounding, because I don’t have an answer. Because if I admit I’ve thought about it too—even for a second—there would be no turning back.
Silence stretches between us, thick and charged. Just like that moment that lingered between us at my apartment.
Broderick studies me for a long moment before letting out a quiet scoff.
“You know,” he murmurs, taking a sip of his drink, “for someone who always speaks her mind, you sure have a hard time being honest about this.”
I stiffen, glancing away. “I am being honest.”
Am I?
