Page 35 of Best Kept Secret
Thankfully, before any awkward small talk is required, the announcer introduces the singer for the national anthem, and we eat in silence as “The Star-Spangled Banner” is butchered by some old white man wearing a sequined top hat.
“Look at that mustache, ladies!” Fran openly swoons as the camera zooms in on Robbie.
I laugh quietly, chewing on a slice of pizza, but when the camera moves to Logan, I’m caught off-guard by just how handsome he looks. His jaw is shadowed by a few days’ worth ofstubble, his face veiled by a steely indifference, but his eyes? Oh, my God, those eyes. I swear, you could get lost in Logan Cullen’s gaze. And for a moment, I do. But when I suddenly remember where I am, and with whom, I square my shoulders, glancing sideways to find Hannah watching me, a slightly smug smirk curling her lips as she quickly looks away.Bitch. I silently curse her, and myself, turning back to the TV as the players line up for the faceoff.
CHAPTER 15
MILLIE
The Thunder ended up losing the game, 3-2, the other team scoring the winning goal only forty seconds into overtime, and the mood in the room is low. Honestly, I don’t really care that much. I mean, sure it sucks to lose, but someone has to. And it’s ice hockey. They play three-hundred-thousand games a year. This is just one. They literally play again tomorrow; they can make up the points. It’s hardly the end of the world.
As I’m saying goodbye to the girls by the front door, I avoid Hannah like my life depends on it, standing as far away from her as I can without it being weird because she better not try to hug me. When they’ve all finished putting their shoes and coats on, I hug Emily and Fran, making sure to keep at least one of them between Hannah and me as a buffer so that when the time comes to say goodbye to her, all I have to do is wave awkwardly. Sure, maybe I’m being immature, but she knows what she did.
I stand in the open doorway, waiting until they’re in the elevator, and I don’t budge until I see the doors glide closed, finally releasing the breath I feel like I’ve been holding all night.
As I walk back into the apartment, I make sure the door is locked, the deadbolt secured, and for a moment I just stand inthe entryway, looking around for what, I don’t even know. The place feels a whole lot bigger now that I’m here on my own. Lots of rooms and doors and windows. I wander back down to the great room and start tidying up the mess we made. It’s not a lot, just the pizza box, two empty wine bottles and a few glasses that I stuff into the dishwasher. Slapping a random beat against my thighs, I linger in the kitchen, looking around again, aimlessly. It’s after ten. I should probably just go to bed, but the thought of sleeping in a strange place, all by myself, makes my skin crawl. I know this building is secure; there’s a night doorman, and we’re on the thirty-eighth floor with card-only access, but what if someone scales the balconies and picks a lock, getting in through the glass doors. What then?
I cross the room quickly, checking the glass door to the balcony, relieved to find it’s locked. Then, peering out at the darkness, realizing I can’t really see anything past my own reflection staring back at me, I move to the remote panel on the wall next to the television, and I press the button for the blinds. Seconds later, a light whir sounds through the silence as the blinds retract, gliding down over the glass.
I’m far too anxious right now. If I go to bed, I’ll just lie there tossing and turning, and then I’ll start hearing things, imagining things, which means I’ll probably end up back at Dallas and Emily’s apartment with my pillow.
Get it together, Millie; you’re a twenty-two-year-old grown woman, for goodness sake.
Heading back to my room, I unzip one of my cases and rifle through the contents before pulling out a pair of leggings and a matching sports bra. Logan said this place has a state-of-the-art fitness center—it’s what made him choose this building over the others he’d looked at when he was buying. Maybe if I wear myself out on a treadmill, I might actually be able to get some sleep tonight.
I swipe my keycard over the panel next to the glass door, the latch releasing with a beep. Stepping inside, I scan the space, a little intimidated, if I’m honest. It’s been a long time since I’ve stepped foot in a gym. I prefer to exercise outside in the fresh air. But not at night in Manhattan in February. Thankfully, the gym is empty, which isn’t surprising considering it’s a Friday night. Most people are probably in bed, or out living their actual lives. I’m hiding out in a gym, because I’m too scared to be in my apartment on my own. Embarrassing.
Two rows of fancy cardio equipment face a wall of mirrors: treadmills, bikes, cross trainers, ellipticals. Off to the side is an area specifically designated for the free weights, which I avoid because I have no idea how any of those things work, and the last thing I want to do tonight is hurt myself.
Moving to one of the treadmills, I place my water bottle and phone on the console and step onto the belt, doing another quick scan of the space, and when I’m certain it’s just me, I pop my buds into my ears and press play, mother Taylor Swift keeping me company while I set the pace for a steady jog, but just as I start to break a sweat, barely five minutes later, my phone shudders with a new message.
L: Where are you??
My jaw drops, and I glower at the words on the screen. But before I can even consider a suitable response such aswhy the fuck is it any of your business,he’s calling me.
Huffing a frustrated breath, I hit the answer button with an abrupt, “What?”
“Where are you?” Logan’s deep voice comes through all demanding and… sexy. “I got an alert from the camera that you left?”
“I am not going to continue living with you if you track my movements!”
“Are you running?”
“Yes,” I manage between pants. Wow, I’m really unfit.
“Millie, where are you?” He’s all pitchy and panicked, and honestly, I’d laugh if I could breathe. “I’m about five seconds away from calling 911.”
“Oh, my God, calm down,” I say through a laugh combined with a cough. “I’m literally downstairs in the gym.”
I hear him release a heavy breath, silence ensuing from the other side while I not so quietly die.
“Is that all?”
“No,” he huffs. “You need to breathe through your nose.”
“Who died and made you the boss of breathing.” I roll my eyes at myself. What am I? Twelve?
“Right now it sounds like you’re about to die,” he retorts with a low chuckle. “Or… orgasm.”
