Jane, on her morning run

Opening the door, you're surprised to find Jane standing on your front doorstep, dressed in an athletic tank top, sweat pants, and a pair of running shoes. Her red pixie-cut glows in the sunlight, and her freckles dust the tops of her cheeks the same way they do her shoulders and chest.

"Morning," says Jane, with a little wave, her green eyes cheery. Then she judges your clothes. You still haven't changed out of your snazzy outfit from last night. "You going running in that?"

"No, uh. Actually, I forgot you might be coming over," you say. What else did you claim last night? All you can remember is Pearl taking off her shirt and being able to ogle her tits in her bra. How did you never realize how hot your best friend was?

Jane's expression is hopeful. "If you skip today, I still go running like normal, right?"

"I'm not skipping," you say, making up your mind right then and there. "Give me a minute, I'll go change."

You disappear into the house to do just that.

While you never realized how hot Pearl was, you've always had a crush on Jane. It's crazy that if you were going to sleep with anyone, you didn't sleep with Jane first. Now that your barriers are down and your virginity is abolished, the thought of being with Jane that way turns you on. It used to make you nervous.

You return to Jane in an old t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, and gesture for her to lead the way.

"I'll go a bit slower than usual so you can keep up," says Jane, running effortlessly in front of you. "Usually I go a mile out and a mile back, but if you need to stop let me know."

You're stuck playing catchup for the next several minutes, huffing and puffing for air. Jane 'slowing down' is just regular jogging instead of running, apparently, and she moves with all the grace of a gazelle. While you're grateful for the view - Jane's slim body with her tank exposing her shoulders and a lot of her back fascinates you to no end, and while her sweats are formless, her physique beneath them is anything but.

By the time Jane finally hits the endpoint of the run, you’re living in cramp city with no hopes of moving out anytime soon.

You find yourselves in a parking lot in a business park. Though it's Saturday, there's plenty of cars around. Lots of tech companies here, no rest for the computer geeks.

Jane tags a street lamp and waits for you to catch up. "This is exactly a mile and a half out," she says.

"I thought you said we were running a mile," you gasp, crashing into the lamp post and simultaneously wishing you had bigger lungs to breathe and a gargantuan water bottle to drown yourself in.

"I didn't want to overwhelm you on your first run," says Jane, regarding you with sympathy. Though said sympathy is undercut by the fact her eyes gleam with merry sadism. Jane enjoys your suffering.

"You're enjoying this way too much," you manage, breathless.

"Hey. Right now you're me every time I come back from a vacation," says Jane. "Course I'm enjoying it."

You shake your head and hang low against the light pole. "Can we walk back?" you ask.

Jane frowns and shifts her weight anxiously from foot to foot. "Is that the new routine standard, or...?"

"I'm just talking," you say, pressing a hand to your uncomfortable side. Every time you breathe, it feels like you're splitting open. How can there be so much pain with so little blood?

"Then no," Jane says firmly, tugging at your shirt to get you moving. "If you only run half the way, you'll only condition yourself for half a run. C'mon, let's go. Standing around too long's just going to make it worse."

You hold onto the street light for dear life while Jane tries to pry you off it. "I will do literally anything if it means I don't have to run back," you cry. "What do you want? Money? I have money!"

Jane brushes your pleading aside, prying your fingers off the lamp post one by one. "No excuses, c'mon Chase."

But it's not an excuse! You'll die if you take another step!