My lips purse as we continue to stare at each other, and I can't help but think of that kiss. That damn kiss. That fucking stupid arse kiss. God, I've kissed a lot of people in my life—girls, obviously—but I've never, never kissed anyone that sad, that empty, that fucked-up. Ransom is a mess, a scarred up, messed up, twisted nightmare of a man. What the hell's happened to him? To that guy who came to my house with his hair slicked back, a confident smile on his face, a yellow t-shirt on. He stood there and slipped his hands in his pockets, looking like some kind of charmed hipster asshole.
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