Page 36 of Best Kept Secret
“Ew, you wish.”
“Fuck yeah, I do.” He laughs.
I hang up on him with a muttered, “Pervert.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I?—”
Startled by the unexpected voice coming from right behind me, I scream, turning so suddenly I lose my footing, and before I can find something to grab onto, I hit the deck with a thud, my flailing body rolling a few times with the momentum of the belt before, thankfully, the emergency stop kicks.
“Oh, hell… a-are you okay?”
For a long moment, possibly a few minutes, maybe even an hour or two, I just lie there, half on the treadmill, half on the floor, staring up at the lights in the ceiling, wondering if this is what it’s like to die. A shadowy figure comes over me, and I blink a few times, narrowing my eyes to make out a man.
I groan, suddenly feeling pain in my hip and an unfamiliar burn in my arm.
“Don’t move,” the man says, his southern accent thick and adorable, comfortingly familiar. “You might’ve broken something.”
Ignoring him, I force myself to sit up, looking down at mylegs. I don’t think anything’s broken. I mean, I’ve never broken a bone before, but I feel like I’d be able to tell.
The man starts fussing, collecting the runaway Beats buds that fell out of my ears. He takes my water bottle and phone and offers me a hand, and I lift my chin, looking from his hand to his face. He’s about my age. Maybe a little older. Tan skin. Dirty blond hair. Big blue eyes. He’s cute, in that boy next door kind of way.
“Where did you even come from?” I smooth my hair back from my face, shaking my head in confusion.
His brows bunch together. “Um… Macon. Georgia.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to make sense of his words. “What? I mean…” I shake my head again, finally taking his proffered hand and allowing him to help me up. “When I came in here, there was no one. Suddenly you’re on a bike right behind me?”
I smooth down the back of my leggings, looking at my arm that’s sporting a serious burn from where I skidded on the damn treadmill belt.
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” The man snorts a rueful laugh. “I came in here and you were on the phone.” He points at the bike he was on. “And that bike’s the best. The other two have really hard seats, that hurt my—” He snaps his mouth shut, stopping himself. “Never mind.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m Maverick. Apartment twenty-six A.” He holds his hand out again.
“Maverick?” I quirk a brow.
“Yeah. My parents hate me.” He nods as if to answer a question I didn’t ask. “Huge Tom Cruise fans though.”
I laugh again, shaking his hand. “Millie. Thirty-eight B.”
“I haven’t seen you around here, Millie.” Maverick smiles a genuine smile, perfect white teeth gleaming bright.
“No, I only just moved in. A few hours ago, actually.”
“Well, welcome to Lenox Hill.” Maverick does some weirdhalf-bow thing, but by the look on his face, I can tell he’s mildly embarrassed, clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders.
I point to the door. “I should probably go. I think I need ice.” I indicate the friction burn stinging my arm.
“Please let me help you back up to your apartment,” Maverick says, a hopeful quirk to his brow. “I would feel really bad if something happened. This is all my fault, after all.”
I shake my head. “No, it was an accident. In fact”—I pause, offering a sheepish smile—“if I can be honest… this isn’t the first time I’ve fallen on a treadmill.”
His eyes widen.
I grimace. “Only the first time was a lot more embarrassing because it was peak time at the gym right by my college. For days afterwards, people would stop me randomly on campus and ask if I was the chick who ate shit on the treadmill at Planet Fitness.” I roll my eyes at the memory, feeling my cheeks burn.
“Rude,” Maverick scoffs playfully.
