Demanding Ransom (9 page)

“Hey, Maggie. I brought you some more room
décor.” Ran smiles, and though it’s not that same, perfect smile resulting from
the years of expensive orthodontic work that Brian flashed a few seconds ago,
it makes my knees feel shaky.

“Is this the guy?” Brian presses a finger into
the mattress. “The one who—” He looks down at the unmade bed.

“I’m Ran.” Ran drops his motorcycle helmet onto
Cora’s bed nearby, delicately placing the fish bag inside it, and extends a
hand toward Brian. “And you are?”

“Maggie’s boyfriend.” Brian’s hand clamps down
on Ran’s, swallowing it up. “I mean, ex-boyfriend,” he corrects.

“Well,” Ran smirks, “Any ex-
boyfriend
of Maggie’s is an ex-
friend
of mine.”

Brian shakes his head, clearly not amused and
clearly trying to understand who this Ran guy is and what he’s saying. And why
he may or may not have been in my bed last night. I don’t bother to offer him
an explanation. “Maggie,” Brian continues, rotating toward me. “I came because
I need that ticket from you for the Winter Masquerade.”

“The ticket? You mean the one you gave me the
first week of school?”
Back when we were
still together. Back when I was your obvious date for functions like this.

“Yeah,” he nods. “That’s the one. Apparently
you need the
physical
ticket to get
in and Sophia’s freaking out that they won’t admit her. She’s already purchased
her dress and everything.”

I don’t know who Sophia is—nor do I care
to find out—and I definitely don’t still have the ticket. “Brian, I
shredded that thing over a month ago.”

Brian nearly gasps, his blue eyes flashing.
“You
shredded
it?” he growls, his
voice rattling the windows, not that it takes much to do so. These dorms are
over seventy-five years old and I think they still have the original glass
panes.

Like he’s a spectator at a tennis match, Ran
looks back and forth between us.

“Why on earth would you do that?” Brian
questions, much quieter now.

“I don’t know. It was part of the whole ‘purge
my life of anything Brian related’ phase.”

Brian shakes his head even harder than before,
places his hands on his hips, right above his low-slung jeans, and stares at
the floor. “You got rid of
everything
I gave you?”

“Maggie isn’t good with gifts,” Ran chuckles,
and I shoot him my best glare, hoping he feels the intensity behind it. “Her
mother never taught her manners.”

“Believe me.” Brian lifts his eyes to Ran’s.
“I’ve met her mother.”

“Whatever,” I spit. “I don’t have the ticket,
Brian. I’m sorry.”

“You should be. What am I supposed to tell
Sophia?”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Oh, I don’t
know. Maybe you could tell her that your ex-girlfriend of three years that you
cheated on by sleeping with some sorority blonde you barely knew decided she
didn’t want to hang onto anything that reminded her of you. That might do the
trick.”

“Maggie, you’re a real piece of work.” Brian
shakes his head condescendingly. “Three years and this is how you treat me?”

“Dude,” Ran speaks up. “I don’t think you have
any business accusing Maggie of doing the mistreating.”

The two are face to face, just a three-foot gap
of space separating them. The angry air that passes between them feels thick
and physical, like I could reach my hand into it and touch it with my
fingertips.

“Whatever. I’ll figure something else out with
the ticket.” Brian storms toward the door. “Thanks for nothing,” he hisses over
his shoulder.

“Same to you, Brian,” I say, proud of myself
for holding my own, but hating the burning sensation of tears that sting the
back of my eyes and scratch my tongue. I will not cry. I cannot cry. I’ve shed
too many tears for Brian in the past. He doesn’t deserve any more from me.

When he’s out in the hall, Ran quietly walks
over and shuts the door into its frame and it’s like the act triggers the dam
to break. I push back the tears with the inside of my sleeve and sniff as
quietly as I know how, hoping Ran doesn’t notice.

“Well this is sad, Maggie.” Ran drops down onto
my bed and fingers a loose thread on his pant leg.

“This is
sad
?”

“Yeah,” Ran confirms, nodding briskly. “Because
I thought I might have had a chance with you. But if you’re attracted to jerks
like him, I realize I’m not your type of guy.”

I hold my finger to my nose to wipe it, as well
as stifle the laugh. “I’m not attracted to guys like him,” I defend, pulling a
tissue from the box on my desk. I blow into it loudly, sounding like a foghorn.
“We started dating when I was just barely sixteen. He’s not the type of guy I’m
interested in now.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Ran mocks, throwing his
hands in the air. I try again to hold back my laughter, but I’m not successful
and I snort. Between the snorting and the snot, I’m making myself real
attractive. “Because he’s very pretty, but that’s about all.”

I look over toward his helmet holding the
plastic fish bag inside it. “You brought me a goldfish?”

“I didn’t bring you just one goldfish.” Ran
glides across the dorm and pulls the bag from the helmet. “I brought you
two
. To avoid that really depressing
swimming in circles from occurring. Plus, they still had a two for one deal.”

“But I didn’t give you any compliments. If I
remember correctly, I actually gave you several very harsh insults.”

“I decided to wipe your slate clean.” Ran hands
me the bag with two iridescent, golden fish fluttering around inside and
snatches my used Kleenex, tossing it into the wastebasket under my desk.
“Everyone deserves a second chance in life. Some people more than others.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I yank the fish
from him. “That I’m in desperate need of a second chance?”

“Not necessarily.” Ran’s eyes hold my own. “But
it feels really good to give those second chances. So I’m doing this more for
me than for you at this point. Using you to make myself feel good.” He coils
back from my attempted slug against his solid shoulder. “Watch it.” He grabs my
wrist playfully and twists up the corner of his upper lip. I bet those lips
feel amazing. “I said I give second chances freely. Thirds and fourths are
harder to come by.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I drop my hand to my
side, but Ran’s still wraps around my wrist and I pray he can’t feel my pulse
thrumming on his fingers. My eyes flit up to his, and when they meet, I see his
falter slightly along with the quick intake of breath I hear pulled in between
his lips. “So what are you here for? Just to drop off my new pets?”

“Yes.” Ran lets go of my wrist. “And to ask you
to dinner.”

“Because our lunch went so well yesterday.” I
slip back into my chair and skate the mouse across the desk to wake up my
computer. I need to finish this paper.

“I thought it did,” Ran says, stone faced.

I twist around in my seat. “Seriously? You
thought that went well?”

“Best first date I’ve been on.”

“That wasn’t a first date, Ran. That was a
hostage situation.”

“Hardly.” Ran hovers over me. “And I think you
owe me a second chance. You know, ‘cause I just gave you one and all.”

I push out a frustrated huff and turn back
around to stare at my laptop. Honestly, looking at him right now is so
distracting. It’s incredibly difficult to attempt to argue with someone that
looks the way Ran does. “So that wasn’t purely merciful earlier? I always knew
you had ulterior motives.”

“Ulterior motives, no. A hidden agenda, maybe.”
Ran holds his hand up to his face, his fingers curled into his palm like he’s
examining his nail bed.

“Again, semantics.” I begin typing on the
keyboard, pounding out another paragraph of my essay. I notice the faster I
breathe, the quicker and louder my fingers click across the keys, so I force my
breathing to slow so my nerves aren’t given away by my impossibly fast typing
frenzy.

“Are you a linguistics major, Maggie?”

“No.” I flip open the closest book to a random
page and pretend to read the contents. But the words scramble together and
their meanings jumble around my head, like the hormones inhabiting it don’t
allow for them both to exist in the same space. Like logic and reason don’t
belong when it comes to the laws of attraction.

“Then why are you constantly analyzing the way
I say things?”

My shoulders pull taut. “I don’t like being
lied to.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to lie to
you?” I feel him edge closer to me, sense his hands hooking over the back of
the chair, and when I smell his minty breath and feel the rush of it on my
shoulder, my hairs stand on end.

I shiver. “I don’t know. History.”

“Listen.” Ran pushes off the chair and the
momentum causes me to swivel to the right. I plant my foot on the floor to stop
from spinning around completely. “People may have lied to you in the past, but
I’m not a liar. I’m honest—to a fault.”

“Oh, so you mean that’s just one of the many?”

I glimpse Ran shaking his head over my
shoulder. “I’ve already pardoned your past insults. Do you really want to start
this again?”

“Kinda.” I shrug.

 
“I’ll tell you what I want to do,” he
says, slinking down onto my bed. I steal a glance from out of the corner of my
eye, instantly uneasy from the vision of his body sprawled out on my bed, even
though I’d imagined it there already when I led Brian to believe Ran was the
one responsible for the tousled sheets and cologne stench. “I want to take a
nap.”

“A nap?”

Ran stretches, toes off his black boots so they
clatter onto the floor, and splays his arms out behind his head as he eases
onto my pillow. He nearly takes up the entire length of the mattress. “I had a
late shift last night, and if I’m taking you out tonight, I need my beauty
rest. If this truly is our first date, then I want to make a good first
impression.”

“Ran, you’ve made lots of impressions already,
and none of them have been good,” I say sarcastically. He set himself up for
that one.

“That’s not true, Maggie.” Ran closes his eyes.
His lashes are so long, so thick and dark. I abuse the privilege of spying on
him while he’s not looking and stare a bit too long at his features. “I think
my nice face and lips made a pretty good impression if I recall.” With eyes
still closed, his mouth bursts into a full-on grin. “And if you’re lucky, these
lips just might make another impression. But this time on yours, later
tonight.”

CHAPTER
TEN

“Wake up.” I poke his shoulder with the tip of
my ballpoint pen. He doesn’t flinch; his heavy breathing doesn’t falter. “Wake
up
.” I poke him again, and still no
movement, not even the fluttering of his eyelids. Nothing. It’s like he’s in a
coma on my bed and has been for the past three hours.

I was able to finish up a significant portion
of my essay, enough that I felt comfortable taking the rest of the evening off
to go out to dinner with Ran. Comfortable might not be the right word, because
nothing about Ran makes me comfortable. Uneasy, anxious, and lightheaded are
much better descriptions.

He’s still soundly asleep, so I stick him with
the pen and my stomach rumbles a low, hollow growl. Though the thought of
dinner makes me nauseous with nerves, the need to satiate this hunger for food
makes going out with Ran feel like a necessity. So that’s what I plan to do. Go
out with him because the alternative is starving to death. I think it’s my only
option. These are my survival instincts taking over, nothing more.

I push the pen against his bare arm again,
lining it up with the ink that’s permanently etched there already, but he’s
still totally dead to the world. Opening up the desk drawer, I slide out a pair
of scissors, keep them closed, and press them into the flesh on his bicep as I
hiss, “
Ran, wake up!
”

His eyes instantly jolt open and it takes him a
hesitant moment before his surroundings come into focus and can make any sense
to him. Then he looks down at the scissors in my hand. I’m not sure how that
image can make any sense at all. “What the hell?” Ran shoots upright. “What
were you planning to do to me with those?”

“I was just trying to wake you up,” I explain.
“The pen didn’t work.” I lower my gaze to the floor, only realizing how stupid
I sound once the words tumble from my lips.

“And a calm, comforting hand on the shoulder
accompanied by a sweet, ‘Time to wake up, Ranny-Boy,’ wouldn’t do? Instead I
get Maggie Scissorhands as my wakeup call?”

“I didn’t want to touch you,” I breathe,
yanking on the drawer to stow away my scissors and pen, wanting to pull out the
tape dispenser in order to seal my mouth shut. Why do I feel the need to
disclose any of this to him?

“I don’t have cooties, Maggie.” Without
warning, Ran’s hand seizes mine and he presses my palm onto his chest. It’s
firm, like he’s paid skillful attention to this specific part of his body at
the gym to make it this way. “See, no cooties.” His confident smile would be
enough to make me woozy, but the tapping of his heart vibrating just under my
fingertips makes my ears flood with a dizzying rush and my head spins in
circles.