Four Whispered Promises

1. Rosy

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.

“You must be Rosy. I’m Nate. We live in the same building. You’re on the same floor as me and Max. He told me he met you the other day. Thought I’d also introduce myself.” His voice comes out gruff, almost like he doesn’t use it often.

The corners of his mouth lift slightly in a smile as he extends his hand slowly towards me.

Okay…a handshake I can do. It’s better than a hug from a stranger, at least.

Although a hug with him might actually be nice.

I grip his hand in response and remember to maintain eye contact as I quickly shake and release my grip, mentally reminding myself to not get excited over the lingering feel of his warm hand being pressed into mine.

“Yeah, Max and I bumped into each other in the hallway. It’s nice to meet you, too, Nate.” I hurriedly respond, then doubt myself as soon as the words come out.

Should I ask a question back? What sort of thing should I ask? Does he even want to have a conversation with me, or is he just being polite to say hi and that’s it?

“So you like coming to the gym a lot, then?” That is the worst question to ask him; surely he wouldn’t come a lot if he hates it. I should’ve researched some appropriate gym questions to ask him in case we ever had a conversation.

Shitballs.

His easy smile stops the panicked questions in my mind. “Yeah, it’s my quiet place. Are you finished? We can walk back together.”

Effortless.

That’s how easy he makes conversation.

There are no extra words, no unnecessary pleasantries, just a direct conversation that makes it easy for me to answer.

“I am, actually, so that’ll be nice. Thank you. I tend to shower at home, so I haven’t got a bag with me.”

Crap.

Does he now think I’m gross and don’t shower enough? Should I reassure him? Or maybe change my mind and shower here? I don’t think I have the brain space to deal with a room full of strangers getting changed, and I don’t have anything to change into either.

Fuck.

Shit.

I just want to go home and pretend this didn’t happen.

“I prefer to do it when I get home, too. Let’s go,” he announces, jolting me again from the panicked internal buildup.

Okay. Okay… So I just need to relax and survive a bit more conversation as we head back to our building.

Instead, he silently keeps pace next to me, close enough that the heat of his skin teases against mine, but not close enough that he brushes against me.

There’s a part of me that’s disappointed about that.

As we reach our floor, I’m hoping that I’m successful in being subtle about my internal panic.

Not. One. Word.

He’s kept quiet this whole, albeit short, walk back home, and I’ve worked myself up into such a state with trying to decide what I should say or ask him, that I’m so overwhelmed and ready to just bury myself away.

Stopping outside my front door, he turns to face me, and my body tenses in response. My shoulders pull up, and my thumbs rub a rhythm back and forth across my index fingers, the move doing little to soothe me.

What should I say now?

My brows furrow, and thoughts overwhelm me.

A warm hand settles on my arm, clearing my mind a fraction.

Some of the tension eases as the heat from his touch spreads through me, and he squeezes softly.

“If you want a gym buddy or just to walk to the gym together, come knock on my door, or we can exchange numbers. No pressure or expectations,” he offers.

He wants to see me again? I inhale sharply as my mouth pops open in surprise, and as his palm drops, taking away his comfort, I find myself missing it already.

“Oh, that would…yeah, that would be nice. Thank you. You can give me your number. If you're okay with that, of course,” I breathlessly respond, a shy smile shining through as a blush sweeps across my skin.

Reaching in, I pull out my phone and hand it over to him. The screen lights up his features, highlighting the straight slope of his nose and the slight curve of the cupid’s bow in his upper lip.

He looks up, catching my gaze, and I quickly look away, taking back my phone. My lips twitch slightly as I add in a nickname for him, then save the contact and shove the phone back into my pocket.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Rosy.” He smirks before he turns, walks down the corridor, and enters his flat.

After I close my door behind me, I lean back against it, exhaling loudly as my eyes drop closed and my head thuds back into the wood. Trying to fight the tears threatening to fall, I open my eyes and glance around the space. Resounding relief washes through me; my flatmate isn’t here.

I feel so overwhelmed today. The restless sleep and the unexpected encounter with Nate weigh heavily on my mind.

Thankfully, I have time to shower before I have to head out to work again—this time as a delivery driver.

The physical exhaustion helps but sadly doesn’t mentally exhaust me enough to get a decent night's sleep.

I rush through a quick shower, keeping my hair up in a messy bun to avoid it getting wet. Then throw on my favourite oversized jumper with a pair of under-the-sea themed leggings and slide my feet into a pair of multicoloured sliders adorned with fruit-shaped charms.

Grabbing my headphones and bag, I head out the door and downstairs to the underground car park.

Getting into the driver’s seat, I open up the delivery app and check for any open job requests.

It’s Friday, and I’m hoping for a busy evening delivering everyone’s takeout orders.

Already, there are a few waiting, so I accept a couple for a nearby Indian restaurant and head over for the collection.

Checking the clock after the last delivery, I note that it’s just after 9 p.m. Most of the local restaurants end their food service around 9:30 and 10:00 p.m., so I decide to end my shift and head back home.

I’ll find something to eat before logging on and doing a bit more work for the rescue, my main passion.

It’s unpaid, but it doesn’t make it any less important.

Stephanie’s sitting on the couch surrounded by her books, mid study session. Her short blonde hair is half-pulled up into a high ponytail; the hair that isn’t long enough sticks out wispily around her face and down the back of her neck.

Without looking up, she says, “There’s a plate of food for you, sweets. How was your shift tonight? I can feel your exhaustion from over here.”

Feeling utterly grateful for her taking care of me, I silently promise to be a better friend and help her with something in return.

“It was good. It’s payday weekend, so everyone was ordering out tonight, but I didn’t want to stop and pick up food. Thank you for thinking of me. Honestly, I was prepared to make myself a sad sandwich and find whatever chocolate snack we have.”

I open the oven and grab the slightly warm plate of vegetable lasagna. My stomach rumbles as the smell of melted cheese wafts around me. I slide onto one of the kitchen stools and eat as quickly as I can, without burning the roof of my mouth off.

“I’ve got some work to do, so I’m going to head to my room and get some done before crashing. Thanks so much for dinner, Steph.”

She glances up and gives me a warm smile that crinkles her hazel eyes at the corners, then she blows a kiss in my direction. “It’s no bother. I was cooking anyway. Hope you have a good night’s sleep. Try not to work too late. I’m heading to bed soon, too.”

It may have only been six months since I moved in, but Steph’s managed to make this space safe and comforting. She’s never made me uneasy. Instead, she’s gone out of her way to take care of me by making food, checking in to see how I’m doing, and trying to get to know me.

Over the last couple of years, I’ve lost the few friends I did have in my life.

Having to care for my nan meant that most of my focus was spent on her, and to be honest, I don’t regret that at all.

She was all I had, and she made sure I had such a happy life, full of love and affection.

But now it’s just me, and it’s been harder than I thought to brave the world alone, but I’m doing it. Sort of.

Sighing heavily, I pull out my laptop and start working through the few tasks I wanted to do for the rescue, compiling a list of content to capture tomorrow based on the suggestions on our social media pages.

Once the work’s done, I shut down the machine, place it in my bag, then get under the covers and try to clear my mind so sleep will take me.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work. Thoughts of Nate tidal wave past the attempt to empty my head. We had a conversation, and he still wants to see me again…unless he’s being nice and plans to ghost me later.

Shit, what if he gave me a fake number?

Should I message and see?

Nope, I’m not ready to deal with either outcome yet. That's tomorrow's problem.

My phone pings with a notification, startling me. Twisting over, I reach for it in the dark, squinting as the screen scorches my retinas.

Unknown

Goodnight, Pet. I’ll be thinking of you.