against the rubber tread echoes in my legs and I try to ignore my right one, pretending it’s just as capable as the left. I don’t favor it like Ran says I always do—I treat it just like the other, hoping if I pretend it’s just the same, that it will actually work the way it should. Like I can trick it into being completely healed.
Sucking in my breath, I focus on the things in the world around me that make sense. The little girl swinging in the yard I’m running past that laughs as her daddy pushes her higher. The black lab that retrieves the ball his owner lobs down the block. The older couple on the sidewalk across from me holding hands and smiling at one another, reminiscing about some story as they speak with hushed volume. I focus on all of the normal, daily interactions that go the way they should. The interactions that produce emotions that you would expect to see and feel.
I swing down the block, hugging the curve, and stay on the inside strip of pavement, close to the row of manicured front yards. I’m tired. That should be expected. That’s normal. My head rattles as I jog down the block. That always happens. That’s good. All of this feels familiar.
I hear the low rumble edging up behind me and my heart beats rapidly to match the sound. It’s the last thing I anticipated feeling, the last sensation I expected to encounter on my run that was meant to distract and center me.
The ground pulses and even when the motorcycle eases up to the curb, I keep my eyes fixed forward. I need to be in control, and this run was supposed to do that. To help me feel normal, not the jumbled mix of hormones and irrational sensations I’ve been since first laying eyes on Ran two months ago.
“You come here often?” Ran pushes the visor to his helmet up and I catch the smirk I know his lips make just from the slight squint in his eyes.
I stare straight ahead. I will not talk to him. I will not mortify myself even more (if that’s possible.) I will not talk. I will not talk.
“Maggie, I liked those texts.” Ran’s bike crawls across the pavement just two feet from me, and he balances a foot on either side, walking his motorcycle underneath him. “You can send me dirty texts anytime you want.”
“They weren’t dirty,” I spit, betraying my oath to stay silent.
“I think the part about not washing your neck was completely dirty, am I right?”
“Those weren’t meant for you.”
Ran hangs his head low. “Dang it, Maggie? There’s another guy you’re sending dirty texts to? I have competition?”
I quicken my pace. “You don’t have competition.”
“Good,” he smiles. “Because he would lose, and that would be very sad for him.”
I ignore him completely. “Those texts were for Cora.”
“Cora?”
I hadn’t wanted them to, but my eyes pull his direction. “Cora, my roommate. Remember her? The girl that rode on the back of your bike after our awful sushi interrogation?”
Recognition flits across Ran’s face and his helmet bobs up and down in a nod. “Oh, you mean Claws.”
“Claws?”
“Yeah, I think she might have left a permanent scar from grabbing on so hard to keep from falling off.”
I laugh, but turn it into a cough as I continue my jog, Ran still doing his annoying walk-balance thing beside me. “Cora wasn’t worried about falling off, Ran. She was manhandling you.”
My right leg gives slightly, and I lean into it to keep from tumbling. I know Ran notices.
“I can drive you the rest of the way.”
Sinking teeth marks into my lips I reply, “No, I have to do this. I have to prove it’s strong enough.”
The motor had still been running during our exchange, but I’ve slowed my pace so much that Ran’s now able to kill it and still drag his bike at the same rate I move forward. “Want company then?”
“Not really,” I huff. Which is completely the opposite of what I want. I want more than his company walking beside me as I jog at a snail’s pace. Though I’ve been trying to distract myself, the only thing I’ve been able to fill my mind with are all the ways I want him. His mouth on mine, his smart comments, his help in showing me how to forgive. I want him. I want Ran. I want it all.