Page 52 of Collide
Suddenly, I feel like I lost a lot more than just a game.
Chapter 9
Crush
We stroll through the streets of Brooklyn, hand in hand, as the sun finally breaks through the clouds, casting a golden glow over the damp pavement. The humidity lingers, thick and sticky, curling around us like an embrace.
Then, I notice her.
A woman with a dog, staring directly at Alex. Not just a passing glance, but with recognition, her mouth agape.
Her phone is in her hand in an instant, and before I can process it, she snaps a picture.
What the fuck?
First Nick. Now her.
Before I can say anything to Alex, we round the corner. A mouthwatering scent floods my senses, and I lose my train of thought. The aroma of smoky meats, sizzling spices, and sweet pastries wraps around us, pulling me toward the nearby park. A convoy of food trucks is parked under a canopy of trees, their colorful signs advertising everything from Korean barbecue to gourmet tacos.
“Hungry?” Alex grins, his expression boyish and irresistibly charming.
“Always.” I giggle, poking his side. Hard muscle meets my fingertips, the contours of his abs obvious even beneath his shirt.
We settle under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, claiming a weathered wooden picnic table. Our makeshift feast stretches between us—sticky, smoky ribs, grilled corn, soft tacos bursting with fresh salsa, cheesecake, and homemade pink lemonade.
I take a sip, letting the sweet citrus bite melt on my tongue.
“This is amazing,” I exclaim, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips, not sure where to begin.
“I have to admit,” Alex says, picking up a taco with ease, “the tacos in California are better. But these? Not bad.”
I grin, licking a bit of salsa from my thumb. “Speaking of the West Coast, I’m actually headed to San Diego on Sunday to shoot the video for my debut single.”
Alex pauses mid-bite, his eyes flickering with interest. “What a coincidence. I’ll be in San Diego the day after tomorrow for the week.”
I perk up, realizing we haven’t really talked about his job. “Oh? Right, you mentioned that. What was it you do again?”
He takes a slow sip of his drink, his expression unreadable. “Hmm…A little bit of this and that.”
I raise a brow. That was vague.
Before I can press, he smoothly redirects. “So, how long will you be on the West Coast?”
Evasive. Noted.
“I fly back the following Saturday.” I shrug between mouthfuls of sticky, delicious ribs.
Alex’s lips curve into a smirk. “Maybe we could meet up?”
His tone is casual, but there’s something deliberate in the way he says it, like he’s already planned it in his head.
I nod silently, pretending to focus on my food, but my mind is already spinning.
Why wouldn’t he answer my question?
We finish our lunch, the conversation shifting easily, trading stories of memorable meals—my mom’s home-cooked Filipino dishes, the time Alex accidentally set fire to a steak trying to impress someone.
He’s charming, funny, and magnetic.
