Demanding Ransom

Chapter TWENTY-ONE





“I can’t do this. I’m absolutely terrified.” The wind slices into me and I can’t control the shivering that has racked my entire body.

“Yes, you can.” Ran bends his face closer to mine and his eyes stare out at me through orange-tinted goggles. “And I wish you would stop saying how terrifying I am. It’s going to give me a complex.”

“I’m serious, Ran. I can’t do this.” My lunch swims in my stomach and I’m pretty sure it’s about to make an encore performance in front of everyone in the line behind me. I burp and Ran glances my direction.

“Are you going to throw up?” He laughs at me, which makes everything so much worse. So much worse because he’s not even acknowledging that I have the right to be absolutely terrified by this.

“I think so, maybe.” My throat burns.

“Well,” he winks, “try not to get any on those pants since we rented them. They’re more expensive than they look. That’s a pretty decent brand.”

“Really? You mean this ridiculous outfit that makes me look like the Pillsbury Dough Boy is actually something people would pay money for?” I waddle forward in our line, feeling like I’m wearing moonboots and am covered in twenty layers of bubble wrap.

“I think you look adorable,” Ran smirks, pressing his finger into my stomach. I don’t giggle like that stupid Dough Boy does and instead slug him in the gut, but my hands are hidden under large gloves and there is absolutely no way he could have even felt that. “Come on pokey, we gotta move forward.”

The line for the chair lift is moving quickly, and with each chair that scoops up another pair of people to carry them up the hill, I feel that lunch getting closer and closer to debut time.

“So what are you afraid of exactly?” Ran pushes at my back and I shuffle forward. He’s got both of our snowboards in his other arm and is able to move effortlessly in the snow while I feel like I’m some baby penguin that is just learning how to walk.

“Let’s see. Falling to my death from the lift is the first one.” I hold up a chubby gloved finger. “Sliding to my death is another.” I lift up finger number two. “And tumbling to my death is the third.” I’ve got three fingers held up in front of Ran’s face. “Oh, wait. Don’t forget freezing to death. Number four.”

“The only thing I’m worried about is laughing to death during all of those scenarios.”

“That’s not nice, Ran. I told you I hate the cold. I hate the snow. It is both cold and snowy here. Not to mention the heights. I hate heights.”

“You’re not going to fall off, Maggie.” There are only four more couples up ahead of us and I contemplate actually giving in to the vomit that’s been hanging at the back of my throat because I think it might give me an out, but I’d rather not make a complete fool of myself, if that’s at all possible. “Here, you need to put this on.” Ran drops my board onto the packed snow.

“What?” I look down at it and then up at him.

“Yeah, you have to put it on before we get on the lift. We actually should have had them on already.” Ran clicks his right foot into the bindings on his board.

“No way! I will have a hard enough time balancing up there without that thing trying to pull me down with it.”

Ran bends down and grabs my right foot, lifting it from its firm, planted position in the snow and he slips the board right under it. “You don’t have a choice. Now be a good girl and follow the rules.” He throws me an obnoxiously sexy grin, which infuriates me because he’s being so condescending. I really want to kick him in that perfect mouth of his with my other boot, but there’s no way I can do it. Especially after the incredibly brief, but overwhelmingly intense, contact I had with those lips last night.

“Almost our turn,” Ran says, standing up beside me. He takes my elbow. “Now just skate forward.”

“Skate? I thought we were snowboarding.”

“We are. It’s just a way to describe how to move forward. Kinda like you’re skateboarding. Just push off the snow with your left foot and use that momentum to glide the board forward.”

I shake my head. “I can’t do this, Ran.”

“You don’t have much of a choice now, Maggie. We’re next.”

The lift just scooped up the couple in front of us, and there’s already a visible lag as I hang back, terrified of the two-person chair that looms our direction.

“Come on.” Ran uses his weight to pull both of us forward. “It’s our turn.”

I follow his lead not because I want to, but because there’s absolutely no other place to go. Unless I want to run screaming into the snow covered hills, which actually might not be a bad option. We skate forward to the “Load Here” sign.

“One…two…” Ran looks over his shoulder as our designated chair swings toward us and I close my eyes so hard I think they might freeze shut. “Three.” I suck in a searing breath and the chair buckles my knees and I tumble back onto its wobbly surface.

“You okay?” I think Ran lowers the safety bar across our lap but I haven’t opened my eyes to confirm because I’m pretty certain that would mean I’d also have to look down. And that would likely be the beginning of me falling to my sad, snowy death. So I keep them shut and pretend I’m sitting on my couch at home. My moving, swinging, artic-air chilled couch. This is not working.

“You okay?” he says again, and I feel his arm stretch out over the back of the chair. He curls his hand onto my shoulder.

“I hate you.”

He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “No, pretty sure you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. And I hate this even more than that stupid motorcycle of yours.”

“Does that mean I can get you to ride it again when we’re all done here?” Ran’s voice perks up.

“Not a chance. And after today, I’ll be dead, so I won’t be riding anything of yours ever again.”

“Oh Maggie, you really shouldn’t talk dirty like that. Save it for the texts.” Ran laughs so hard the lift bounces up and down, and I grip onto his leg for something to ground me. It’s freezing up here, so much colder than at the base of the mountain, and we’ve been climbing for so long that I’m beginning to think he’s tricked me into going down the black diamonds as opposed to the bunny slopes.

“Shut it, Ran! That’s not what I meant!”

“Sure it wasn’t.” I can hear him smile and then feel his body straighten back up. “I need you to forgive me, Maggie.”

“What?” I turn to him, even though I’m still keeping up my not-opening-my-eyes act.

“Just say you forgive me.”

“For what?” I angle toward him even more.

“Just say it.” His voice is firm, but I still detect a hint of teasing in it.

“I forgive you, Ran.” I say it not because I actually do—I’m not even sure what I’m forgiving him for—but because he’s peer pressured me into it. Just like he did when he got me onto this stupid chairlift. Why is he always so convincing?

“Good, because in a moment, I’m going to need your forgiveness again and I think I have a better chance of getting it if I break them up into smaller parts.”

“What are you talking about?” I hear voices up above us and as the lift glides steadily upward, they’re becoming louder.

Ran pulls his arm back from my shoulder. “You know how you were afraid to get on the chairlift?”

“Yeah.” My breathing picks up without me having any control over it.

“Well, now we have to get off of it.” The lift lurches forward and the fifteen-pound weight strapped to my foot swings back and forth like a pendulum. “And some people might say that it’s a little scarier than getting on it.”

Obviously I knew we’d have to get off of the lift, but that was back when I thought all I’d have to do was literally walk off of it, balanced in my stupid moonboots. But now I apparently have to “skate” off of it, one foot strapped in and one foot out. Seriously, how do I let him talk me into doing stuff like this? Oh yeah. His impossibly gorgeous face and husky voice might have a little something to do with it.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” I feel the jolt of the couple in front of us abandoning their seat and know we’re next. I’ve managed to keep my eyes shut the entire duration of the ride, and know that I don’t have the luxury of doing that much longer. This is seriously going to require all of my senses on high alert.

“Just point your board straight and keep the tip up,” Ran instructs. “When it meets the snow, just roll like you’re getting off of a couch.” I’m feeling really lightheaded and I’m sure the altitude isn’t helping. “Put your left foot on the stomp pad, and when we get off, we’re going to make a J-turn to get out of everyone’s way.”

“Ran,” I plead, gripping onto the back of his jacket. “I have no idea what any of that means.”

“Just follow my lead. Keep your back foot on your stomp pad and don’t drag it in the snow; you’ll end up doing the spits. And as much as I’d like to see that, this is not the time, nor the place.” There’s that audible smirk in his grin again and I don’t even have time to be flustered by it because I feel the impact of the snow push up my board and my eyes instantly fly open.

Clinging to Ran’s back, I try to find some strength in my shaky legs to push up, but they collapse under me and I feel myself beginning to fall backward. Ran rights us by leaning forward in an over-exaggerated motion, and I wrap my arms around his waist like I’m holding on for dear life, because I sort of am. Even though he’d warned against it, my left foot slips from the stomp pad and drags behind me and I lose any ounce of control I might have possessed. My board swivels like a car fishtailing on black ice and hooks under Ran’s. We’re not even five feet away from the chair we were sitting on when I crash to the ground, dragging Ran down with me, the next chair careening toward us as we lay in a heap on the packed snow.

And then the most mortifying thing happens. They shut down the lift.

“Are you okay?” Ran twists around. He’s practically sitting on me, his weight pinning my mangled legs, pressing me further into the snow.

Physically, yes, I’m okay. But as I look back at the row of chairs strung down the mountainside, the people seated in them rocking back and forth like they’re on some ride at Disneyland, I realize that this probably ranks as one of the most humiliating moments of my life. And everyone is right there to witness it from their comfy little dangling chairs in the sky.

“I’m fine,” I grumble, and someone, probably a ski instructor, rushes over to us to help us off the ground, not because they’re worried or concerned, but more because we’re holding up the line. “And I still hate you.”

“I figured,” Ran says, pulling me up. My legs already feel sore and my muscles tremble with exhaustion, and we haven’t even made it down the bunny hill. “Do you forgive me?”

“No.” I let him haul me to the far side of the slope, out of the way of the families with children that don’t even look old enough to walk, yet seem to know exactly what to do as they plow down the mountainside on their skis and boards.

“I’ll have to see what I can do to change that.” Even though he still has his goggles on, I don’t miss that wink he shoots me. “Okay, so let’s sit down and get the other boot strapped in.” He pulls my foot into the bindings like earlier. “Since you’re a goofy rider—”

“Shut it—”

“No,” he laughs, “it’s just what they call it when you ride with your right foot forward. I’m goofy, too, so it will make things easier. I’m going to stand right behind you and help you angle down the hill. We’re going to take it nice and slow, Maggie. You don’t need to be scared.”

Nothing about his statement provides any calm, mostly because I have no idea what he’s talking about, and also because the thought of him at my back as I fumble down the hill sends a wave of chills up my spine. Well, I’ve had chills all over, really, ever since I set foot in the snow. But these ones aren’t brought on by the cold.

“Okay, let’s get you up.” Ran slants his board so he’s immediately behind me, and when he grabs onto my waist, those chills from my spine flood into my brain and shock my entire nervous system. “Because I think you can handle it, we’re going to go straight to garland.”

“Uh, okay.” It’s clear that I’m just not going to understand any of this lingo and will have to rely on Ran to teach me everything.

“So your board is flexible.” He holds me in place. “It’s flexible tip to tail, but it’s also flexible toe edge to heel edge, too.” He gently pushes me forward, just enough so that I’m forced to catch my balance by gripping my toes against the boots. It would probably be easier to do if they weren’t so numb. “Since it bends in so many directions, you’ll be able to take advantage of that as you shift your weight from your toes to your heels. Does that make sense?” As Ran’s explaining, he pulls at my hipbones and draws me closer to his hips. I try to regulate my breathing, because I don’t want to fog up my goggles right now. As much as I’d like to keep my eyes closed, I really need them open.

“I guess.”

“Okay.” He keeps his hands on my hips. “So garlands are just small turns. Like picture Christmas garland and how it curves. That’s the design we’re going to make in the snow.”

I nod and shiver at the same time.

“So you know how I said your board is flexible? It can twist side to side, kinda like wringing out a towel. So when you alternate your pressure—pressing one foot down and lifting up on the other—your board will twist.”

“Got it.” I don’t really, but I need him to continue explaining so I can focus on something other than his hands that are still around my waist.

“Okay. So a garland really is just a series of half-turns, without changing edges. We’re going to start with a heelside garland okay?” I nod. “We’ll slowly head down the hill, pointing our board toward the fall line, and then we’re going to shift our weight backward to slow up by lifting our toes. Got that?”

I nod several more times, but I didn’t catch any of it. Heelside, garland, and fall line make absolutely no sense to me. Flustered, ruffled, and distracted—those are words I understand much better at the moment.

“After we slow from that, we’ll press our weight to our front toes and the edge will lift out of the hill and the board will turn toward the fall line again, okay? We’ll just keep doing that over and over until it feels good, alright?”

I think the only part about this snowboarding debacle that feels good is having Ran’s hands on me. And even that holds just enough tension in it that it borders on tormenting instead, because all I really want to do is flip around, rip off this stupid board, and tackle him in the pile of the fresh powder that clings to the edge of the tree line. Having him tempt me last night with that peck of a kiss did something crazy to my brain and my insides and nothing is really working as it should today. I honestly don’t know why I assumed my legs would be able to figure things out, either.

“Okay, if you’re ready, here we go.” Ran drops his front hand and keeps the back at my left hip as he cautiously guides me forward. “Very good, Maggie,” he encourages as we pick up speed slightly, the packed snow sliding under the smooth bottom of our boards. “Now pull up on your front toe and we’re going to dig back into the hill with our heels, okay?” He brings his right hand to the small of my back as I do what he says, and he steadies me so I don’t fall completely over onto him. “Nice.”

My body angles forward again, prompted by his slight pressure. “Now let’s point the toe toward the fall line and try again.” I do as he says, but I think I must overcorrect because my weight propels me over the toe edge of my board and Ran has to hook his arm around my waist to pull me upright, his hand landing a little higher than he probably means for it to, though I don’t know that he notices. There is nothing remotely feminine about my attire right now and I’m sure I’m nothing more than a figureless blob of androgynous jackets and padding in his eyes, anyway.

“Whoa,” he breathes against my neck as he catches me. “Too far.” I reclaim my balance and we start to slide down the hill again. “It’s all about little shifts in balance. You don’t need to dive over the front of your board.”

“I like to take things fast,” I say, not entirely limiting my answer to just snowboarding. I wonder if he picks up on it. I don’t know why I’m being so bold; this really isn’t like me. Maybe because I won’t be alive past this afternoon, having frozen to death and all.

“Some things need to be taken slowly, Maggie,” he states, and it’s glaringly evident he’s knows what I mean. My cheeks heat a thousand different shades of red. “Let’s try this again.”

This time Ran doesn’t let go of me and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s worried I’ll go end over end with my board still bound to my feet, or if he just doesn’t want to let go. I’m hoping it’s the latter as I feel him closer at my back, our boards only about six inches apart now, cutting the same grooved pattern into the snow. We stay like this, slipping down the shallow mountain until we’re at the base where the snow flattens out completely and stretches toward the lodge.

Ran swivels around to face me and looks up the vast, white hill at our work. “Nice job, Maggie!” he shouts, tossing me a high five that totally rocks any balance I had. I plummet to the hard ground with a thud. I’m pretty sure the entire mountainside rattles underneath me. “Sorry!” he laughs, stretching out a hand to me. Instead of letting him aid in helping me, I tug his arm with one forceful jerk and he crashes down on top of me. His breath rushes out from him, suspended in a frozen cloud between us.

Ran pushes his goggles up onto his forehead and then slips his fingers under mine to do the same. “Maggie,” he says softly, “it’s not nice try to injure your teacher.”

“It’s not nice to hang back when I’m ready for more,” I retaliate. “Plus, I feel kinda bad that you have to spend all this time on the bunny slopes with me when it’s clear that you’re very experienced and should be carving up that mountainside.”

Ran pushes up on the snow and does what looks like a scissor kick to flip his board over so he can sit next to me. “I like teaching you,” he says, tucking a loose lock of his dark hair up under his gray beanie. He stares straight ahead and the muscle at the back of his jaw tightens. “And I like taking things slow with you, believe it or not.”

In a strange way, it feels like he’s rejecting me again. That is, until he turns toward me and leans in, bringing his mouth just to the edge of mine so his breath flutters against it. “I like it this way, Maggie.” His eyes are still open when he presses his lips onto mine, and though my mouth had been frozen solid from the bite of the air before, the moment the heat of our lips meshes with one another, they’re not just instantly thawed, but they radiate a warmth that courses throughout my veins. Even my toes don’t feel as cold as they once did.

Ran brings a hand behind him on the snow to push further toward me, his lips increasing in pressure against mine, and the moment my eyes start to close and my breath leaves me, he pulls back. “You ready to try again?”

I nod, wishing he was talking about the kiss, but knowing he’s referring to the hill that sits behind us. He looks over his shoulder toward the chair lift.

“Yeah, let’s do that again,” I say, pushing off the ground. Ran takes my gloved hand and steadies me. I shoot him that smirk he’s so good at and add, “All of it.”



“You’re really doing great. And I’m not just saying that.” Our chair continues its steady incline and I’ve gotten used to the nauseous sensation that accompanies riding it because I just don’t think it’s going to go away. This has to be close to our twelfth time heading up the hill, and each run I pray that they won’t have to shut it down for me again. Luckily, the past ten trips have been a success.

“Thanks,” I reply, trying to hold his hand, but our gloves are so thick that our fingers don’t fit together well. “I hate to admit it, but it’s actually a little fun.”

“I think it’s funny that you hate to admit that.” Ran adjusts his goggles and straightens out his beanie. There’s a clump of snow tucked into the fold of it and it’s gradually melting, leaving a darker ring of damp gray in its place.

“Why?”

“You don’t like admitting your wrong, Maggie. And it’s kinda cute when you do.” He brushes the tip of his index finger across my nose, which I’m sure resembles Rudolph’s bright red bulb. The temperature’s dropped over the past two hours and the higher up the mountain we go, the windier and more frigid the air.

“Well then, if you find it cute, I’ll have to admit to being wrong more often.” It’s fun to flirt with him like this, like we’re playing some game. It’s fun to do anything with Ran, actually. Even snowboarding.

“Tell me three things you can admit you were wrong about.” He leans toward me and quirks up his lips. “Preferably about me. That would be cuteness overload.”

“Hmm.” I feign thinking long and hard, because the reality of it is that I was completely wrong about him; I was wrong about almost everything when it came to Ran. “What if I admit to more than just three things?” I tilt my head as I ask the question, and I glimpse the people that ski and board down the hill under us. They look like a child’s action figures, they’re so small.

“Then you would be drop dead gorgeous, but honestly that is already true, so it’s not really like any of this changes much.”

“Well,” I begin, trying not to peer down at the snow below because it’s throwing off my equilibrium, “for what it’s worth, I was wrong about everything with you, Ran. You’re not at all who I thought you were.”

“Good or bad?” I have no idea where he’s taking me, because this lift is still climbing and I can’t see the end of it through the clouds of mist that hover over the mountaintop.

“Good. All good.”

I drop my head onto his shoulder and breathe in his scent. Though it’s freezing out, we’ve given ourselves quite the workout this afternoon and Ran smells faintly of sweat as a result. But he also has the clean smell that just seems to be him, and I can’t get enough of it.

“What if there was one more thing you didn’t know about me that might change that?”

Oh no. Where did this come from? I thought we’d already done this whole ‘I have secrets in my past that might change the way you feel about me’ thing. I honestly don’t know how many more skeletons I want to meet—between the two of us we could fashion quite the impressive haunted house come Halloween.

“What now, Ran?” I try not to sound exasperated by it because I do want him to be open with me and if he catches my hint of frustration, that might not continue being the case.

“Tell me you’ll forgive me first,” he smiles.

Not again. “Seriously? You do realize that making me do that is not at all fair, right? Because you could say something terrible like you’re an ax murder or drug embezzler or something.”

“If I were either of those things, would you not forgive me?” Ran stares at me straight through his goggles. I think he’s actually a little bit serious.

I shake my head. “Really?” He nods. “I don’t know—I guess if you were truly sorry then I would forgive you. I guess.” I waver. “I don’t know. That’s just crazy.”

Ran shifts his weight and the whole chair swings back and forth with his sudden movement. I instantly feel like I’m on some rickety ride at the state fair that creaks and groans like it’s one screw from coming completely unhinged.

“Say you forgive me,” he says again. “Please, Maggie.”

I try to marshal the quiver in my voice and once I’m convinced he won’t detect it, I say, “I forgive you, Ran.”

The surrounding air hits my skin in small beads of moisture and it’s hard to see past my hand. I’m not sure how much longer we have until we reach the top, but pretty soon I probably won’t even be able to see his face through the veil of white around us.

“I’m the reason for your accident,” he says in an unnervingly monotone voice.

“What?” The thickness of the air already made it hard to breathe, but his words feel just as heavy on my chest, like a binding corset. “What?” I say again.

“The night of your accident. I’m to blame for it, Maggie.”

“Ran, I don’t know how that’s possible.” I try not to pull away from him, but I can’t help but draw back in question. This makes absolutely no sense.

“I’ve wanted to tell you,” he starts, and I recall the cryptic times he’d mentioned something about feeling guilty or something weird of that nature, but it never developed from there.

“I was hit by a drunk driver.”

He nods and looks in the distance like he’s recalling that night. But all that is in front of him is a bleached stretch of cascading snow. “I know.”

“So how does that make it your fault?”

“Because I sorta wished for it.” His voice is still so clear, so steady, like there’s no emotion held in it whatsoever. Or maybe it’s been drained of the emotion it once embodied, having thought it over and over again, to the point where it is just a recitation rather than a testimony.

“I seriously doubt you wished for me to get plowed into by a drunk driver.” I pull down on the unintentional lift in my voice, hoping not to come across accusatory, because that’s not how I feel, even if my voice indicates otherwise. When will this lift ever get to the top?

“I wanted to rescue you, Maggie.” Ran yanks his beanie off his head and wrings it angrily through his fingers. “It’s a sick game Trav and I play when it’s slow. You know—we point out girls that we’d like to get in the back of our ambulance.” I look down at his lap and am pretty sure that his hat will never be its original shape again.

“And I was one of those girls?” I reiterate.

“Yes.” The twisting continues. “We were stopped at the light just to the right when I caught a glimpse of you through your windshield. God, you were so cute tapping your fingers on your steering wheel nervously. I pointed you out and Trav agreed and I told him I claimed you first and that’s when it happened.” Ran drags his gloved hand down the length of his face. “It was out of nowhere, Maggie. He just barreled into the intersection from the lane next to us.” Ran’s eyes are vacant; his stare is void of any discernable emotion. “Your car flipped and rolled twice. I thought you were dead. There was so much blood.”

We’ve made it to the top of the hill and Ran slinks off the lift like he’s on autopilot. Thankfully, I don’t slip or fall, but glide with him to the side where he drops down and sits directly in the snow with his arms tightened around his knees and his board dug into the powder. I mimic his movements and position myself the same way, right beside him.

“There were three other cars involved, but all I could think about was you. I’ve seen a lot—believe me—but I threw up twice on the way to get to you, Maggie. I just had this horrible feeling that you were dead and that somehow, by making a sick joke over wanting you, I’d sealed your fate.” Ran hasn’t looked at me for the past few minutes. He still doesn’t. “When I saw you there—hanging from your seatbelt, drenched in blood, but still breathing—you have no idea what that did to me.”

“You didn’t rescue me, Ran.” I tug my fingers out of my glove and stretch my hand over to him, looking for a bare patch of skin so he can feel my reassuring touch on him. There’s a small space on his neck above his jacket collar and I brush my fingers along the skin there. “You are rescuing me. The night of the accident was just the beginning.”

Ran whips his head my direction. He rips off his goggles in one reckless motion. “You don’t blame me?”

“You can’t be serious.” The snow falls steadily around us, landing in small flakes that dust Ran’s eyelashes. He blinks rapidly to shake them off. “You honestly think that you played a part in the accident?”

“No,” Ran continues, rotating his head back and forth. “Obviously I know I didn’t. But how it all happened, it just seemed too significant to be coincidental, you know?”

I pull myself closer to him awkwardly, cutting the sharp edge of the board in a horizontal path in the snow as I slide nearer. “That’s because it wasn’t a coincidence, Ran.” I unclip the bindings from my shoes and leave the board where it lays and drag myself to Ran. I grasp either side of his face and draw it up to mine, forcing him to look at me, forcing him to listen to me. There’s a clarity that’s slipping back into his eyes, casting away the shadow of haze that inhabited them moments ago. “I don’t believe for a second that our meeting was a coincidence. But I also don’t believe you’re at all to blame for how it happened. I just don’t think we can wish for something and have it come true like that—bad or good.”

His half-empty eyes sluggishly lift to mine, like he’s coming out of some stupor or daze. I grip on tighter to his face to shake him out of it completely.

“Maggie. How is it that everything about you is exactly what I’ve been searching for?” Ran brings his frozen lips to mine.

“Because I’m perfect,” I mock, pulling out of our quick kiss.

“Pretty damn near.”

“Oh, and I forgive you,” I add, slinking out of his grip to fit my boots in the bindings again.

“I thought you just said it wasn’t my fault.” Ran wipes his eyes with the back of his glove and secures his goggles back onto his face.

“It’s not,” I confirm. “But I forgive you for being a hypocrite.”

Ran cocks his head to the side the way puppies do when they’re trying to decipher what you’re saying. “How so?”

“You keep telling me that I need to let go of my guilt.” I push up on my knees to lift out of the embankment of snow and steady myself with my arms balanced out on either side. “Yet you’ve obviously been carrying that around for a while. So is that one of those, ‘Do as I say, not as I do’ things?”

“I think you should always do as I say, and do as I do.” Ran tosses me an impossibly coy grin that I don’t even know how he’s able to produce because my lips are currently frozen and my tongue is so numb that it feels like a block of ice trapped in my mouth. “And right now, I say we head down this hill, go back to the ‘chalet,’ and search for that hot tub you promised me.”

“I didn’t promise you anything, Ran.”

“Who’s the hypocrite now?”

I teeter on my board and recover my footing. “That wouldn’t make me a hypocrite, that would make me a liar.”

Ran skates closer and brings his mouth near my ear. “Anything else you’re lying to me about?”

I tuck my neck further into my jacket, because his breath should warm where it hits, but it just draws up chills that I can’t afford to have right now. I’ve never been so cold in my life. “I sorta just lied about not believing we get our wishes. Because I really hope I’m about to get mine.”

“And what would that be?” Ran pulls at the Velcro on his gloves to tighten the strap.

“To finally, really kiss you,” I say confidently, which surprises me. “No more of this teasing me with little pecks here and there. It’s starting to feel more like I’m your sister or something rather than your girlfriend.” Did I seriously just say that? What has gotten into me? I’m not Ran’s girlfriend. We’d never defined anything. Why on earth does it feel like suddenly I’ve smashed my censor button to smithereens?

“I definitely don’t view you as a sister.” Ran fits his beanie back onto his head. “Let’s see about finding that hot tub so we can make that wish of yours come true,” he smirks, pointing the toe side of his board toward the fall line and slipping out of sight into the white depth of the snow-drenched mountainside, leaving me to chase after him this time.