“Together, in any sense of the word.” I almost wish I had been drinking tonight, because I’d gladly trade the electrifying buzz that shivers under the surface of my skin with an alcohol-induced one. At least that one would wear off in a few hours. This one that Ran creates by holding his body on mine probably won’t ever go away, and that could be quite a problem considering the fact that I’ve promised to avoid him at all costs.
“No, Ran,” I choke out. “We weren’t together.” As we’re dancing, we bump into a couple at our left, and they’re shamelessly making out, their tongues slipping in and out between their open mouths. It flusters me and I shake my head and look back at Ran. “We were just friends.”
“Damn.”
“What?”
“It’s just…it feels like there was more. Every inch of you feels familiar to me, Maggie.” Suddenly my arms, my legs, my chest—anything in contact with Ran’s skin—is a thousand degrees. It’s like he’s set me on fire. “So I’m guessing I have a pretty good imagination if I dreamt all of that up.” Ran leans closer and breathes deep. “How your hair smells like vanilla. How your warm fingers feel in mine.” He draws up my hand and squeezes my fingers between his. “I must have an incredible imagination.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “You must.” I pull away slightly.
“Hey.” Ran wraps his other hand around my wrist. His voice and eyes are soft. “Listen. I’m sorry. That’s gotta be really weird.”
I stare up at him, the flashing lights blinding me.
“I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have.” His hand still holds mine. “I’m just trying to put pieces together, you know?” The pad of his thumb runs circles across my wrist. “And it felt like you were a pretty big piece.” Crimson sweeps onto my face and I turn my head so he doesn’t see it. It’s hard to hide from someone when every part of you is trembling up against them. “Maybe that was just wishful thinking.”
“Yeah.”
We don’t talk for the next few songs and I think my last statement, even though it was just one word, is replaying in Ran’s head because every once in a while he’ll look down at me with this pained expression, like I’ve taken something from him by saying it. Like I’ve shattered some dream. I wish I could tell him just how much was actually taken, but I can’t. I can’t go down this road with him. Perfection can’t be recreated, and that’s what my time with Ran was. Perfect.
The club is at full occupancy, which forces Ran and I even closer, to the point where I don’t even have the space necessary to look up at him, and instead have to rest my head on his chest, sandwiched up against him. The lull of his heart in my ear, the damp sweat from his shirt on my cheek, and the way his minty breath smells as he exhales into my hair makes every part of me ache. It’s odd that so many sensations that should be incredible on their own can combine together to feel torturous. Because that’s what this is. Torture. Being so close to Ran, knowing he still has a glimmer of feeling for me, and knowing that it’s something I’ll never get to experience again produces a gaping hole inside my chest. Like there was an exact spot that he’d filled up and now it’s been torn out of it, leaving a ragged emptiness in its place. I know I’d corrected him when he said there was a Maggie-shaped void before, but I take that back now. There’s a part of my life that once existed just for Ran, and now that’s missing, and it hurts like hell.
“Hey.” I feel the cool rush whispered against my forehead. “Want to get out of here?”
More than anything.
“No,” I say, “I can’t. I’m Trav’s designated driver.”
Ran glances across the room. “If I can find someone sober to drive him, will you change your mind?”
“I don’t know—”
“Hey, Anthony!” Ran waves a hand above the crowd and locks eyes with a skinny guy sporting a black beanie and a white tank. He gives Ran a swift nod and weaves toward us through the bodies pulsing to the music.
“What’s up?” He nods again, that casual greeting that guys always do. I remember a time when Cora and I talked about how weird it was that guys greet