Really well, all things considered.

She laughs at your expression before standing up. Her hands go to her hips as she tilts to one side, never taking her eyes off yours.

“See something you like?” she asks, her voice tinged with an accent that’s hard to place for a second.

“God, yes?” you answer back, honest, but off-balance. It doesn’t seem to bother your fellow jogger, her grin broadening at the answer. “… accent. New Zealand?”

“Impressive! Now we know your ears AND your eyes work!” she teases back, pulling a water bottle off its shoulder holster. She takes a long moment to lean back and drink it, and you appreciate how stunningly in-shape this woman is. You’re pretty sure she could kick your ass, and she has to stand about even height with you. Your eyes catch on a small trickle of water that escapes her lips, sliding over her chin, down her neck, and mingling with her sweat on the way to her chest. Jesus, you really should stop staring so much.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you make yourself say. “I was … ogling. That was rude as hell.”

“Yeah … but I’ll let you pass.” She takes a few steps forward and offers if you want to take a sip, and only when she calls attention to it do you realize you’re parched as hell and just as dripping with sweat as she is, though you’re pretty sure she’s been at it a lot longer today than you. “I think it’s the face. You’re just so slack-jawed, it’s like the first time you’ve even seen a girl,” she continues as you allow yourself a swig, the faintest taste of salt on it reminding you of what her lips must be like.

“Basically.” She screws the cap back on her bottle, body relaxing as she listens. “I’ve, more or less, been a eunuch for … a long time, and I’m trying to get back into the dating scene, and all my social skills are totally atrophied.”

“So I’m an inaugural eye-fucking?” She looks offended for a moment, but cracks a smile when you stammer for a second. “Relax, man, I’m screwing with you. I know, it’s mean.”

“Yeah, but fair,” you accede with a shrug.

“I’m choosing to take it as a compliment since you didn’t get all weird about me calling you on it,” she sighs. “Besides, I’m kind of … newly back in the pool, too.”

“You are?”

“Contain yourself!” She starts to stretch as she talks, getting ready to move again. You start trying to do the same, not wanting to lose pace now that you’re building a rapport. “Yeah. Long-term. One guy. Years and years and years. Moved to the States for him. Went real bad at the end.”

“I’m sorry. Whatever it was, he’s a moron. You’re … incredibly gorgeous.”

“I know, right?”

“Did you want to maybe go … do something? That came out so horny, do you want to go out some time? I’m James, by the way.” You offer your hand, and after a moment, she shakes it, eyeing you over analytically.

“Lara. And not really.” That’s fine, you were basically asking her out and the WHOLE POINT of this was to find someone for a one-and-done thing in case you’re wrong and things can still go super-bad. “See, it’s nowhere near dinner, and I hate lunch dates, and brunch as a concept drives me insane, and it’s too late for breakfast … how about a little deal instead?” The way your confidence (and even your heart, if you’re being honest) had dropped at the rejection reverses itself with a hint of curiosity as she offers a flirty smile.

“I’m in.” You should really ask what the deal is first.