Page 1 of Whispered Promises

ONE

ROSY

Is it weird to have the feeling of safety projected from a complete stranger?

Actually, scrap that. I don’t want to know if it is, because I’ve started to crave that feeling when I come to the gym now.

Without fail, he’s here. Every time.

And after the long, exhausting day at work, I need the familiarity he brings.

No one ever tells you how soul-sucking an office job is when you’re a kid. If I could go back and tell mini-Rosy something, it would be the lottery numbers so she could win big and buy her own farm to fill with rescued animals, instead of just volunteering at one on the weekends. If you’re doing a good deed, surely that counters the morally wrong, probably even illegal, cheating part.

Stepping onto the treadmill, I press the button and feel the drag of the conveyor as it starts.

Repetition and routine soothe me, so I come here twice a week, always on the same days, and complete the same exercise every time.

A ninety-minute walk. Nothing more, nothing less.

It might not be the most strenuous of workouts, but I love how the vibrations of my feet hitting the belt echo through my body. It somehow helps to ease some of the tension from the day, and I can’t express how much it’s needed sometimes.

Like today.

I didn’t see myself as an office 9-to-5 girl, but sadly, it pays the bills. Right now I’m stuck doing that and the odd evening delivery driver shift so I can pursue my passion on the weekends.

A movement from the corner of my eye tugs at my focus.

He’s walking to another machine, just to the left of me. Sweat rolls seductively down the side of his face, only to be wiped away by the towel in his hand.

Lucky towel.

Not that I would ever approach or say something to him. I can’t even look him in the eye. Instead, I just try to catch glimpses when he’s mid-workout. He’s always exercising on a machine near me, but out of my line of sight. I may not see him, but I can feel his gaze on me, and my body always hums under the attention.

Definitely wish it were because he’s interested, but I know there’s no way that's going to happen. Even if he is interested in what he sees, it’d just take one conversation for him to realise how socially awkward and dull I am. Then he’d either politely let me down…or ghost me. I’ve had it happen enough times now to notice a pattern, the recurring factor: me.

Upping the speed on the treadmill a touch more, I let my body sink into the burn as my legs work harder to keep up.

Once my time is done, I allow the machine to come to a slow stop, then step off with wobbly legs. The feeling of being stationary after being on the machine for so long isn’t any easier the more I do it. For a few seconds, I can relate to Bambi walking on ice for the first time. Turning to head out, my eyes meet his, and in the deep, dark recesses of myself, I somehow manage to conjure up a moment of bravery…and smile.

Shit.

The familiar beast of a man prowls up to me, and the breath catches in my throat as I doubt the wisdom of offering him the smile. It was small, tiny. I didn’t mean for him to actually see it.

His short, dark brown hair is cropped close to his head, without any obvious styling, whilst his eyes are darker still and look almost black, even in the bright gym lighting.

He stops right in front of me, and I notice that he is a head above my 5’5” frame. My eyes drop to his full lips, which quirk in a smirk. He’s brutishly rugged, with a square jaw that leads down to a sinfully thick neck. My cheeks burn as I remember the dreams I’ve had about that neck, so I quickly drop my gaze down to his shoulders…but that does nothing to stop the colour from racing across my face. His shoulders are on display beneath the narrow fabric of his black tank top.

This man is so powerfully stacked. Part of me wants him to pick me up and hide me away from the world.

That thought throws me back out of my daydream, because a dream is all those thoughts are.

My expectations are low, so as to never be disappointed again, and I know that there’s no way he would consider me more than a passing interest. My heart just couldn’t take something casual like that.

“Hi,” I whisper softly. Apparently, my voice has evaded me right when I need it.

Great, now he’s going to realise how socially stunted I am.

People like eye contact, Rosy! I flick my eyes back to his, then just as quickly flick them away to a spot right next to his ear as panic sets in.