That had nothing to do with a treadmill.

I promise that I'm trying to keep this story moving. I swear that I'm trying to make everything make sense when nothing makes sense to me anymore. I guess I lied before. I didn't fall off of a treadmill today. I fell off of a treadmill months ago, back when everything in my life was different in a terrible and wonderful way.

Back when I was still me.

But that's fine. You want to see me fall off of the treadmill. I would too, honestly. Watching someone fall off of a treadmill has to be one of the most entertaining things to see. As long as the person falling off of the treadmill isn't yourself.

Wait. I just watched it again. I lied. It was pretty funny when it was me.

Just not at the time.

><><

Done. Tired. Ready to go to bed.

The first two weeks of the semester had simultaneously flown by and slugged along as if they had nothing better to do than to lay in bed all day and pretend like they were sick. Rebecca had dozens upon dozens of tiny check marks in her little yellow-and-white striped daily planner. She had completed at least thirty homework assignments, ten quizzes, and four papers in the past two weeks, while juggling her 38-hour work weeks and trying to make time to hang out and catch up with Celeste.

Saturday morning brought the opportunity for Rebecca to finish off the week strong: with a good workout that would make her muscles sore but the rest of her have some sort of energy for the rest of the day. So far in the semester, she had accomplished her goal of working out six days a week, without missing a week. Granted, there had only been two weeks of the semester so far. But she had done it for those two weeks.

The fitness center at Clemson was larger than Rebecca pictured being at most universities, and she refused to spend money on a gym membership when the on-campus gym was free and offered most everything you could need for cardio, weight training, and stretching. The only problem was occasionally running into people she had classes with, but Rebecca was pretty sure they didn't even recognize her. People rarely did.

Rebecca turned on her headphones and connected them to her phone before stepping on the treadmill. 11:13. Thirteen minutes later than she had wanted to arrive at the gym, but at least she was there at all. She started the treadmill at a walking pace. 3.5. A brisk walk, but a walk nonetheless.

The treadmills were all lined up on the side wall, facing away from the rest of the gym. But every other treadmill had a mirror in front of them, and Rebecca had happened to pick one that had a mirror, so she could see everyone walking around and working out behind her. She could see the three guys waiting for one of the seven squat racks. Five guys and two girls currently occupied them. One of the girls was squatting at least 200 pounds. Rebecca felt a slight twitch of pride in her chest for whoever that girl was.

She could see the girls flipping through textbooks while their legs moved quickly on the elliptical. She could see a guy curling fifteen-pound dumbbells while the girl next to him curled tens. She could see a girl from one of her graphic design classes on the stair stepper. She could see everyone doing their own thing, somehow deciding that in their most likely hungover state they wanted to workout on a Saturday morning more than anything else.

Three minutes into her workout, Rebecca started turning up the speed on her treadmill. 4.0. 4.5. 5.0. 5.5. 6.0. 6.5. 7.0.

She stopped the increase at 7.4, keeping herself at a decent run as "Holding Out for a Hero" blasted through her headphones. All she could think of when she heard the song was obviously the movie Footloose, and that movie made her remember being at home on Saturday nights with her parents, which was simultaneously a happy and sad memory. Happy because she loved her parents. They were two of the most incredible human beings Rebecca had ever met. Sad because she remembered how her Saturday nights had only ever consisted of being with her parents. Sometimes Celeste, but not often. Celeste had always been more social than Rebecca, going out on the weekends and actually being around people her own age.

Rebecca had stayed home, with her parents, watching 80s movies and wishing she lived in a small town where she could discover her incredible dancing skills and reform the town's antiquated laws for herself. But instead she had lived in Greensboro, North Carolina, and the only highlights of her days had been eating an entire pizza by herself and looking at her older sister's pictures of every college party she attended.

But in her sophomore year of college, Rebecca was taking her life back. So there she was, on a Saturday morning, running on a treadmill in the Clemson fitness center and listening to Bonnie Tyler's vocals deafen her.

I need a hero.

Rebecca kept running even as her chest started to ask her not to. She looked straight at herself in the mirror, glaring at her reflection as if daring herself to stop.

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night.

She caught a glimpse of someone walking behind her in the mirror, the girl that she followed on Instagram; @kabe99. The one with over 3,000 followers who looked like she lived some sort of movie plot. Rebecca couldn't remember her first name, just that her last sounded like Abraham. Kendall maybe? She looked flawless at the gym; her straight blonde hair was pulled up into a high ponytail that would probably end up making her hairline recede at an early age but looked great in the moment. She was wearing a matching set of dark pink leggings and a long-sleeved workout crop top, with stark white sneakers and a grey scrunchie around her right wrist to match the grey band on the Apple watch on her left. Rebecca had never wanted to be another person so badly in her entire life.

He's gotta be strong,

Why did she look so...great? So effortlessly beautiful without coming off as snobby about it?

And he's gotta be fast,

Rebecca started running faster, her mind focusing only on how she wanted to look like this girl whose name she didn't even know.

And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.

Faster. Rebecca felt her feet flying. Faster.

I need a hero.

Faster. Her feet were flying. Flying on the treadmill, flying out from under her.

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning—

The music stopped as her headphones lost their grip on Rebecca's ears. Her feet flew completely out from under her as she felt her body going towards the ground, her feet slipping backwards and the rest of her body following in what felt like slow motion: first her legs hit the machine, then her torso, then her face landed on the ground as she slid off completely, hearing the series of thuds as if she were outside of her own body.

The soft chatter of people working out stopped completely and silence permeated the room, everyone clearly wondering whether or not they should help this girl or pretend they hadn't seen to spare her the embarrassment.

Everyone decided on the latter. Everyone except for one person.

"Dude are you okay?"

Rebecca touched her forehead gingerly to ensure that she wasn't bleeding before placing her palms on the gym floor and hoisting herself up, flipping around to sit down on the floor and face the person talking to her.

"Yeah, I'm...fine." Rebecca looked up to see the girl from Instagram staring at her as if Rebecca had almost died instead of tripped on a treadmill. "Thanks, though."

"Well, at least let me help you up." The girl offered, standing up straight and extending a hand with perfectly manicured white acrylics. "That looked like it hurt."

Rebecca took the girl's hand and stood up, dusting herself off self-consciously. She pulled down the parts of her shorts that had scrunched up in the fall and looked up to see the girl still standing there.

"Do you play?" The girl asked.

"Play?" Rebecca repeated.

"Volleyball." The girl replied, gesturing towards where a white volleyball was stitched into the bottom right of Rebecca's navy blue shorts. "Do you play?"

Rebecca laughed slightly.

"Yeah, I used to. In high school for a little bit, before I..." She trailed off, not wanting to tell a complete stranger that she quit playing volleyball because she became so much bigger than the other girls that kids started referring to her as the volleyball.

The girl raised her eyebrows, waiting for her to finish.

"...before I hurt my ankle." Rebecca finished, "I didn't play my senior year."

"I'm sorry." The girl shook her head, "That sucks. I played in high school too, and I try to play at least once a month now, with friends. I couldn't make the Clemson team." She laughed, "You should come and play with us sometime, we usually try to get together on weekends."

It was Rebecca's turn to raise her eyebrows in confusion.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't know me." She replied, trying not to come off as rude but failing miserably. "I'm literally a stranger."

The girl shrugged.

"So? I was just trying to be friendly." She laughed, "Unless you're not into that sort of thing."

Rebecca felt her face go red. She supposed she was so used to people being terrible to her that the idea of someone being a decent human being for no reason was...bizarre.

"I'm sorry." She shook her head, all of a sudden very aware of the fact that her treadmill was still going. She reached over and hit the 'STOP' button quickly, causing the conveyor to come to a slow and gradual halt. "I guess I just haven't ever had someone invite me to anything."

"You mean someone you don't know?"

"Um, yeah. Someone I don't know."

The girl nodded slightly, looking Rebecca up and down subtly. Not subtly enough for the other girl to not notice, and Rebecca felt herself becoming self-conscious. Had she brushed her teeth? Had she brushed her hair? Did she have a bruise forming from the treadmill? Did her outfit match? She didn't know what went with navy blue, but she knew that white went with everything, so her white oversized t-shirt and sneakers should have been fine. Could this girl tell that her Hydroflask was a knock off or that her Fitbit was circa 2015?

"Tell you what," The girl said, interrupting Rebecca's self-deprecating thoughts, "I'm throwing a party with some friends at our apartment tonight. You should stop by. I'm sure you would get along with them, and you can invite whoever you want." She grinned, taking out her phone. "What's your number? I'll text you the address."

Rebecca quietly relayed her phone number to the girl as her fingernails clicked along the screen to put it in. She watched as the girl typed out an address and hit 'send' before feeling her Fitbit vibrate with a new text alert.

"There, now you know where it is." The girl laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "10 PM till...whenever, really. It's a Saturday." She looked over towards a squat rack that was opening up. "I don't want to miss that. I'll see you tonight! Try not to fall again." She laughed again, a lilting sound that made Rebecca want it to never stop.

"Oh!" The girl turned around as she was heading away, "What's your name?"

"Rebecca." Rebecca called after her, "Rebecca Eaves."

"Well, nice to meet you Rebecca." The girl grinned, "I'm Kennedy Abrams."

A/N: And here we goooooo. Let me know your thoughts on the chapter (part of a chapter, I guess) and don't forget to check out my blog, www.kpmblog.wixsite.com/shelfawareness and my Instagram, @someshelfawareness, for updates and more info on the book and a bunch of other stuff!

-Katherine