Page 2 of Whispered Promises

“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.