Page 66 of Collide
I wish she were here. I need her advice, her calm certainty.
Because the truth is, I’m scared. Scared of jumping into something with Alex, scared of what it would mean if I let myself fall too fast. But the feeling of being wanted by someone like him—someone so confident, so magnetic—is intoxicating. It wraps around the oldest part of me, the wound I’ve carried since childhood, the one that whispers that I wasn’t enough. He quiets that voice.
Making me feel like maybe I am enough.
Now I have written two songs about him. He is the first person I’ve ever written about before I even knew it.
I used to write about what it would be like to find love, to want love, to need love, without ever having experienced it. I locked myself away to protect myself, too scared to get hurt, too scared to try.
Now, this unshakable feeling is consuming me. He’s the one who sparks a lyric before I even hear the chord. He is the drop, the pulse, the melody my heart has been searching for.
My phone sits beside me. I reach for it, thumb hovering over his name.
Alex.
I send him a message—simple, easy, something that won’t give too much away.
Elena
They’re beautiful. Thank you.
I hit send before I can second-guess it.
I don’t even notice I’m humming the song.
Hissong. The one I couldn’t get out of my head.
My phone buzzes almost instantly. I hit answer.
“Hello.” His voice hums through the line, smooth and amused. “You got my surprise.”
“I did.” I smile, curling into the throw blanket wrapped around my legs. “They’re wonderful. Thank you again.”
He chuckles, low and pleased, like he already knows the effect he has on me and enjoys it.
“How was the flight?” I ask, trying to sound casual, like I haven’t been waiting for this call all day.
“Not too bad. A little turbulence over Colorado, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” He pauses. “When do you fly out?”
“End of the week. Will you still be there?”
“Yes,” he says easily. “So…do you have an answer for me?”
My fingers tighten around the phone. My heartbeat stutters. “About what?” I tease, stretching it out, even though I already know exactly what he means.
“A second date.”
My lips curve before I can stop them. “Okay.”
Silence. But I hear it—that quiet breath, the subtle shift of someone smiling to himself. That smug little sound he makes when things go his way.
“Good.” His voice dips slightly. “Maybe we can meet up while you’re here.”
“Okay,” I murmur, already picturing it. Sunlight. Heat. His hands. All of it.
“Do you know where you’re staying?”
“I’ll text you the details,” I add, shifting onto my side, the phone warm against my cheek.
