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