This isn't weird.

A Bit Rusty

"You don't really strike me as a runner, Brian," Tess said casually as she bent forward to stretch her calves. She had taken pity on Ben and suggested a run in the neighborhood near his apartment, rather than dragging him out on one of her usual weekday routes. It was terribly tempting to choose a trail outside of town, just to force him to drive out of his way in the wee hours of the morning, but she was feeling benevolent this morning. And more importantly, meeting up near his place made it next to impossible for him to find an excuse to worm his way out of it.

"Ben," he corrected her, knowing damn well that she knew his name. It was obvious that she was trying to get a rise out of him, so he took special pains to keep any traces of irritation out of his voice, and to keep his expression on the friendlier side of neutral.

"Oh, my bad. I can be so forgetful in the mornings. I'm still half asleep!" It was still dark out, with only the faintest hint of sunlight beginning to appear on the horizon, and she was more chipper than an early morning talk show host. Energy practically oozed from her pores.

It was the most seriously Ben had ever considered stabbing someone.

"Do you run often?" she asked.

"I'm... a little out of practice," he replied, searching his memory for the last time he had actually gone on a serious run. At no point in his life had running for the sake of running held any active appeal to him. In high school, he had joined the track team for all of one semester, thinking it might help him make the basketball team the following year, but his athletic ambitions petered out after a miserable bout of mono prevented him from even trying out, and his focus had instead shifted toward drama club. Befriending Dustin had made him a little more physically active throughout college—they would go jogging together most weekends—but the habit didn't last long past graduation, and that wasn't running-running.

The most recent attempt he could recall had taken place five or six years prior. A girl he'd dated very briefly had managed to cajole him onto a few runs with her before he ultimately decided he'd rather die alone.

And... that was it. That was his sum total running experience.

This was a horrible idea.

"Well. We'll take it easy today, then," she said with a vibrant smile. "How does six miles sound?" Seeing the look of horror on his face, she chuckled. "Okay. Four, then we'll see how we feel."

Four?

Fuck.

He was going to die out here.

"Try to keep up!" And she was off.

At first it wasn't so bad. She kept a moderate pace, and soon his muscles were warmed up, and he was keeping up just fine. By the end of the first mile, he was even starting to enjoy it. It was invigorating. Maybe he should start running regularly. But by the end of the second mile, his stamina was beginning to wane. That was, of course, when Tess decided to fuck with him. Her speed suddenly picked up, and she took a sharp turn onto a new street—a street that was entirely uphill. She made it look so easy, racing along without a care in the world, not even sweating yet.

By the time Ben was a quarter mile up the hill, he was quite certain that he was actually dying. Every part of him was in agony, his exhausted legs, his throbbing heart, his burning lungs. He had surely lost half his body weight in sweat. Why hadn't he brought water? She hadn't brought water, either, but she didn't seem to need it. Tess disappeared over the top of the hill, completely out of sight, and he struggled after her with very little hope of catching up.

But he did catch up, because when he finally made it over the hill, he found that she had stopped for a bit of conversation with an absurdly fit man who appeared to also be taking a short break in the middle of a run. Probably one that was at least six miles.

Ben staggered up to them, trying to seem less out of breath than he was. Failing.

"Oh, there you are!" Tess greeted him with a smile. "I thought I lost you there for a minute. Lucky for you, I bumped into one of my friends from the gym. This is Keith. Keith, this is Brian. He's a friend of Millie's."

"Ben," he corrected her, but doubted he could be understood through his gasps for air.

"Nice to meet you," Keith said politely, reaching out a hand toward Ben.

Ben shook it with a weak, sweaty grasp, then mumbled, "Please excuse me." He stumbled several steps away, leaned against a telephone pole, and vomited onto the street.

Behind him, Tess was giggling. "He's a bit rusty," she said in a stage whisper.

"Uh... hey, man, do you need some water?" Keith offered.

"No, no, I'm fine—" Ben began to say as he straightened up, then quickly changed his mind as the effort of staying on his feet threatened to send him teetering onto the asphalt. "Wait. Yes. God, yes, please." Keith passed him a water bottle, and he took a few gulps, trying not to seem too desperate. "Thank you."

"Well, we should keep moving before you lose your inertia," Tess said, patting Ben on the shoulder. She removed her hand quickly—his shirt was disgustingly wet. "Only one mile to go!"

Ben returned Keith's water bottle, and looked forlornly after Tess as she sprinted off again.

"Hey, good on you for being out here, Brian!" said Keith with an encouraging pat on the back. "Keep at it. It'll be easy in no time."

"Thanks," Ben mumbled. He took a deep breath, and forced his unwilling body to keep running. The brief rest didn't make the last mile any easier; it felt somehow worse than the first three miles combined, even without a hill. The street started to look familiar, but he was suffering too much to think anything of it.

At long last, he saw her come to a stop. He slowed to a jog, and when he finally caught up to her, she was talking on her cellphone.

"Oh, you're already out of bed? Awesome! We just finished up. Ben wants to come up and hang out for a bit! See you in a minute."

That's when Ben realized where they were—right outside of her apartment. His jaw dropped. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What do you mean?" Tess asked innocently.

"I can't go up there!" Ben exclaimed, looking down at his soaked clothes. He didn't even want to know what his face or hair looked like. "I'm fucking disgusting!"

"Why would that matter? Millie sees me all gross and sweaty after runs all the time. She doesn't care. Unless—" Tess feigned a surprised gasp, and eyed him suspiciously. "You're not trying to sleep with her, are you?"

Ben's face would have flushed, if it wasn't already at its maximal level of redness from exertion. "What? No!"

"Good," Tess said with a sigh of relief. "Millie trusts you so much. She would be devastated if it turned out you were just another sleazy straight guy trying to get in a lesbian's pants this whole time. She'd probably never want to see you again." 

His stomach felt sick, and he wasn't quite sure if it was from her words, or the run. 

"Well! Let's head up, shall we?" Tess said, and bounded up the stairs. Leaning heavily on the handrail, Ben followed after her, dread rising with every step. When he made it to the top, she held the door open for him with a smile. "After you!"