Demanding Ransom (21 page)

“Okay.”
I nod.

“You
can’t think differently of me because of it.” There’s a look of worry shrouded
in his eyes. He hesitates before saying, “Because it’s not something I’m proud
of.”

Oh
great. This is the part where I find out he’s some creep who has a weird foot
fetish or that he has a secret identity and works for the government or
something. This is where everything I hoped we could become shatters and falls
down around me, just like everything else always does. I ready for the other
shoe to drop.

“I’ve
never had a first kiss before.”

I almost
fall onto the counter when he says it, and I’m so thankful that I’d propped
myself up against it before he spoke because it helps keep me upright and
doesn’t make the shake that the laughter causes so apparent. “Ran,” I giggle,
not wanting to hurt his feelings, but not understanding what he’s confessing.
“That’s impossible. I’m sure you’ve kissed tons of girls.” I keep a joking
tenor in my voice, and I hope he doesn’t pick up on the confused quality that
is equally as evident.

“You’re
right, I have. But I’ve never really had a
first
kiss.”

“That
doesn’t make any sense.” I shake my head. I hear the jingling of Nikon’s collar
before he appears in the kitchen, and when he does, Ran swats him away with the
back of his hand.

The
breath that Ran sucks in indicates he’s drawing in more than just air before he
prepares to speak. It’s like he’s trying to fill himself up with something
else...courage maybe. Even though it’s hard to do so without trembling, I place
a steady hand on his forearm to offer him a bit of my own.

“Maggie.
I’ve done lots of things in my past with more girls than I’d like to admit.”
I’m not really surprised—I’d guessed it from the first time I met
him—but for some reason, it still hurts when I hear it. Maybe not hurts,
but disappoints. But I have no right to be disappointed. Though I haven’t been
with anyone other than Brian, we were together for three years and I gave
myself to him a year into it. I have my own history that I’m not proud of, too.

“Maggie,”
Ran continues. “When I say I’ve never had a first kiss, it’s because I haven’t.
The first time I ever did anything with a girl, it was sex.”

I press
further into the counter. “Oh.”

Before I
have a chance to say anything, he continues. “I was fifteen. We were at a
party. There was no kissing, no intimacy, we just went for it.”

I nod my
head, but not because I understand. I don’t know how you could do that with
someone without feeling
some
ounce of
intimacy in the act.

“Honestly,
I was going through some stuff with my past at the time—working through
some issues about my parents—and I just needed an escape. So that started
a pattern for me. Using girls as an escape.”

It’s
getting harder to swallow, and the strong smell of the freshly-popped popcorn
on the counter is beginning to nauseate me, pulling acid up into my mouth. I
choke it down and say, “Okay.”

“So with
every girl I promised myself I wouldn’t become attached—remember I said I
get attached to things easily?” He looks down at me with wide eyes and I nod.
“For me, taking things slow and in the appropriate order meant setting things
up for a relationship, and that’s never what I wanted.”

I think
I’ve been holding in my breath this whole time, because the dizziness that
spins me around has been growing steadily, and it’s now to the point that I
have to grip onto the ledge of the counter to keep myself from tumbling over.

“It was
never relational, Maggie. It was always just to fill a void.” Ran’s blue eyes
don’t blink—they haven’t for a few minutes—and I’ve never seen
anything more open and honest. “That’s why I never started with kissing. That
felt too personal. I always did everything in the reverse order, so that way
when things ended, it was obvious, because we’d gone through the entire list
and worked our way backward through the ‘relationship.’ ” He makes quotes
around his words.

“I don’t
know,” I interject. “Sleeping with someone seems pretty personal to me.”
Hearing Ran bare his soul makes it impossible to keep mine hidden. “It always
felt personal for me, at least.”

“And
that’s what makes it so awful—because even though that part was never
personal for me—I’m sure it was for some of them.” He pauses and then
takes my hands into his. My palms instantly coat with sweat. “Do you understand
what I’m saying?”

I blush
from the confusion, from feeling Ran’s fingers connected with my own, and from
the heat of the fire in the other room that I’m finding completely unnecessary
at the moment.

“Maggie,
you’re the first girl I want to do things in the right order with.” He clutches
onto my fingers tightly, the strong muscles in his hands gripping me. “As
ridiculous as this sounds, I want you to be my
real
first kiss.”

I pull
in some necessary oxygen. “I just don’t know how you can be twenty-two and say
you’ve never really been kissed, when you’ve done all that other stuff, Ran.” I
don’t know what to say; I don’t know what to do. All I know is that I’ve been
staring at those red, full lips of his the entire time he’s been speaking, and
I can’t think of anything else other than pressing my mouth to his.

“I’ve
never done things the right way. It’s always been backward.” He tugs me closer,
pulling me from my position against the counter. The way he draws our hands up
rests mine against his chest. It’s beating faster than mine, even faster than
the day we raced one another down the block. “I want to do things the right way
with you. You’re not just filling some void for me, Maggie. Maybe you
were
the void.”

“That’s
what Brian always said. That there was a Maggie-shaped void in his life before
we met.” I hate that I say it. I hate that I pull his awful presence into our
conversation, but I can’t allow the overlap to occur. I can’t have any
comparisons between Ran and Brian because Brian shattered my already broken
pieces, and Ran’s supposed to be patching me back together. They’re not the
same; I can’t have their words be the same.

“Okay.”
He nods understandingly. “You weren’t the void, you’re right. And you’re not an
escape, either. You’re just you. All on your own. It’s not like you need me to
be complete or I need you, I just know that being around you makes me feel
better about life. You
add
to me,
Maggie. And I want more of you.”

The
whole time we’ve been standing in the kitchen, I’ve wondered what it is about
tonight that makes him want to share all of this. Why all of a sudden? And why
me? There are plenty of other girls that can ‘add’ to his life. The way I
am—with all of my problems and anger and bitterness—I don’t see how
any part of me can be a positive addition in any way. He appears to have his
own life figured out pretty well already. The only thing I think I might be
adding to his is extra baggage.

“Ran.”
He’s taken my hand and walked me out of the kitchen, the bag of popcorn in his
other. I slide down cross-legged onto the floor next to him as he picks up a
needle and fishing line from the table and begins threading it through the
kernels skillfully. “Ran,” I start again, “I think there are probably many
other girls out there that can add more to your life than I can. I honestly
think all you get from me is a lot of unnecessary baggage.”

“You
have a ton of baggage, I’ll give you that,” he says, but not at all in an
insulting way. “But so do I, Maggie. It’s unrealistic to think you can go
through life without filling up pieces of baggage along the way. And I’m
helping you with that. Helping you slowly get rid of one piece at a time. The
first being the one containing all of your hurt and hatred toward your mom.”
He’s strung several dozen pieces of popcorn already while I’m still trying to
knot the end of the line to start mine. “Speaking of, how is Operation TNT
going?”

At the
rate Ran’s threading the tree decorations, he really won’t need much help, so I
just fiddle with the needle and pretend like I’m actually contributing when
it’s clear that I’m not. “Okay, I guess,” I say. “I’ve done what you suggested
and have maintained some kind of contact each day.” My mom and I have shared
close to a dozen superficial texts over the past week, but nothing that changes
anything between us. Nothing that makes me see her for anything other than the
lying, selfish woman she truly is.

“And
what was your latest exchange?” Ran’s garland is as long as his wingspan now. I
think he’s caught on to the fact that I’m not even trying anymore, and he
doesn’t object when I set my needle onto the coffee table and curl up next to
Nikon by the fire instead. Nikon lets out a low, content growl when I run my
fingers through his thick fur. “Did you ask her what she’s doing for
Christmas?”

“Yes.”
Nikon’s mouth curls into a grin—if dogs can actually do that—and
his hind leg starts twitching like he’s chasing a cat. Ran lifts his eyes from
his garland and smiles sweetly at the two of us.

“Has she
responded?”

“No.” I
unintentionally stop scratching Nikon and he looks back up at me with pleading,
brown eyes. “She usually doesn’t text back until after her kids are in bed.”

“So
anytime then, yeah?” Ran says, glancing at the clock. It’s a little past 9:00
p.m. and she always texts before then. There’s probably one sitting on my phone
right now, actually. “Why don’t you go check?”

I look
down at Nikon, who’s still begging for my fingers to rake through his coat of
fur, but follow Ran’s instruction and pull my purse off the couch. Sure enough,
there are two missed text messages.

“What does
it say?” Ran asks as I scan over them. He’s strung at least ten feet of popcorn
onto the line and rises to his feet to curl them around the tree. Folding his
arms over his chest, he steps back to admire his work. “Not bad if I do say so
myself.”

“She asked
me to come to the cabin with them next weekend.”

I’m not
sure how he maintains his footing, because Ran spins around so fast it’s like
he’s a spinning top. “What?” He races toward me. “Maggie, that’s
huge.
”

“I’m not
going.” I shove the phone into the depths of my purse and pick up the needle
and a palmful of popcorn.

“You
have to. This is a huge step.”

I shake
my head at him in frustration. “Ran. I hate snow, I hate their cabin, and I
hate her. Give me one good reason why I should go?”

“Because
she invited you.” His arms are still crossed over him, and he appears sterner
than I’ve ever seen him. “You go because she invited you.”

“I don’t
owe her anything.”

“Maggie,”
Ran says, unhooking his arms and tossing his hands into the air, “when will you
get over the idea that life is all about owing people? The only person you owe
anything to is yourself, and that’s the chance to prove that you’re capable of
doing this.”

I look
away from him and shake my head. “Ran, she’s probably drunk. She drinks every
night. I doubt she even remembers sending the text.”

“Doesn’t
matter.” He’s still squared off in front of me, and his tall frame would be
quite imposing if I wasn’t able to detect the sincerity that is so evident in
his eyes and on his face. “Text her back and tell her you’re going.”

I don’t
like this Ran-tells-Maggie-what-to-do phase we’re in. I am a grown woman and am
completely capable of making my own decisions. But as Ran stands there with an
expectant look on his face, there’s nothing else I can do. I reluctantly yank
the phone out of my purse.

My angry
fingers punch out another text and after a two-minute pause—the entire
duration of which Ran stares at me—my phone vibrates in my palm.

“What
did she say?”

I read
over her text, the shallowness still so evident even though they’re just typed,
emotionless words on a screen. “She says she’s looking forward to meeting you.”

The way
Ran’s eyes widen, like something pulls at their edges, almost makes me want to
laugh. “What?” he chokes.

“If I
have to suffer through a weekend at my mother’s cabin with her annoyingly
handsome husband and her perfect little children, then you’re suffering with
me.”

“Maggie,”
Ran smirks devilishly, tossing a handful of popcorn my direction. “Are you
asking me to go away with you?”

I lob a
fistful back at him, and both Ran and the tree are dusted with popcorn.

“Oh
yeah?” His eyes entice me. “Is that how this is played?”

“Uh-huh,”
I grin, grabbing the entire bag in my hands.

Ran
readies his stance, bending his knees slightly, his hands held out on either
side, prepared to deflect my incoming attack. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh yes
I would,” I sneer, lifting the bag up over my head like I’m about to tip it
over.

In one
swift movement Ran springs off his feet and launches toward me, hooks his hands
on my waist, and twirls me around, sending hundreds of popcorn pieces sailing
into the air like a giant snow machine. His family room, the tree,
Nikon—it’s all covered in fluffy white.