Page 33 of Collide
Damn.
“Yes, this is she,” I respond smoothly, even though I’m practically melting inside.
What is wrong with me? I barely know him.
“Feeling better today?” Alex asks, his voice low and smooth, and I can practically hear the mischief in it.What’s he planning?
“I’m alright. Resting like a good little girl,” I say, rolling my eyes at myself for sounding so sarcastic.
“Well, Ilikegood girls,” he teases. I swear, the way he says it takes my breath away. “Can I come see you today?”
Oh. My. God.
I sit up straight, excitement flooding me.Did he just ask to come over?
“So you can flirt with me in person?” I push, a little breathless, not quite used to this version of myself.
“Absolutely.” He chuckles, the sound making me smile like a giddy schoolgirl.
“Don’t you have work or something?” I ask, biting my lip to hide my grin, hoping I’m not coming off too eager.
“Elena,” he says with a playful sigh. “I work for myself. Plus, I’d like to come spend some time with you, as I’m out of town next week.”
A nervous thrill fizzes under my ribs. I stand up to look around outside and make sure Philippa and Andrew are gone.
All clear.
“Really?” I quip. “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with yourself.”
“I’m sure myself wouldn’t mind,” he replies, his voice dripping with amusement.
“I’m sure he won’t.” I giggle, feeling bolder now.
“Text me your address,” he says, and there’s a clear note of anticipation in his voice.
“Okay.” I start typing it out, but my fingers and nerves betray me.
This is happening. As friends or otherwise.
“See you soon.”
“Bye,” I murmur, already imagining what this might turn into.
Once I recover some sense, I quickly text him Phillipa’s address.Please don’t be a serial killer. A silent prayer as I send it off.
Next, I fire off a quick message to Riley, letting her know he’s coming over. I don’t know why I’m being so vague, but I don’t want to give her the full play-by-play…yet.
Gingerly, I run a brush through my hair, avoiding the tender spot, and try to make myself look halfway presentable. He cannot see me in fluffy pink pajamas, no matter how comfortable they are.
Heart racing, I leap to the rack of clothes Rio left, frantically sifting through options.
Does anything here not scream club rat or desperate?With a sigh, I give up and cross to my dresser. A white camisole and black velour lounge shorts will have to do.
I dash to the bathroom, swiping on lip balm, blush, mascara—just enough to make me feel pretty.
Back in my room, I scramble to tidy up, tossing clothes into the hamper, straightening cushions, taking deep breaths between tasks. He’s just coming over to hang out. It’s fine.
But God, I’m nervous.
