I read recently a published author’s advice to bloggers/aspiring writers (which I’ve been searching my history and Google for but can’t find–will update when I do). One of the things that he suggested was writing a kiss a day for a month (by the way, searching for that leads to a lot of good ideas on the subject of keeping one’s marriage healthy). So, since I’m bad at doing what I’m told, here’s a kiss gone wrong:
The date had been going well. Kaitlin picked me up at the door instead of honking, the restaurant had seated us by a window and the rain and the lights looked like a cheesy photograph that someone hip would make fun of, and the movie we saw was scary and funny in equal measures, so we found ourselves clinging to each other without having to worry.
Now she walked me to my door at the end of the evening, the rain having turned to a mist that softened all the edges of the world. “This is me,” I said at my front door. I cringed. “I mean, of course it’s my door. Otherwise, this would be weird, just going up to some strange door at night to kiss…say goodbye to a date.” I laughed and then inhaled wrong, bringing on a coughing fit. Only I could go from a perfect romantic evening to practically dying of breathing incorrectly.
“I had first aid training in high school, but I don’t want to try it out,” she said gently. “Are you going to be okay?”
I nodded, afraid to challenge my respiratory system to anything more challenging than breathing.
“Good.” Kaitlin smiled and touched my face. Seeing that I wasn’t pulling away, she leaned in for a kiss. I met her half-way. And immediately jerked back when our teeth bashed together through our lips. The motion caused me to over-balance and crash into my door. When I’d had the option, I’d been talked into a solid core door since the salesperson assured me that they were safer. I was regretting that choice.
I found myself sitting against the door looking up at Kaitlin.
“Are you dead?”
“I should be so lucky.”
“Maybe we should try that again with us both sitting down,” she suggested and then plopped down on the top step facing me. She leaned in.
“Don’t.” I pulled back.
“Oh, it won’t be that bad.”
“No, my mouth’s all bloody.”
“Did you bite your tongue?”
“Cut my lip when we kissed.”
“Gross,” she said and I nodded. “Well, there’s only on solution, I think.”
Here it comes. I braced myself as best I could for the rejection. It had been going so well, but I screwed it up again.
“You need to go in, rinse your mouth, and get some rest.”
I nodded again, glum.
“So that you’re ready to go out again tomorrow.” She poked me on the knee. “And if we kiss, I’ll make sure you’re somewhere soft, so you can’t hurt yourself.” She tapped my nose and said “boop!” then walked to her car.
I watched her go, her black pleated skirt swaying with each step. She waved at her car, got in and drove away.
I sat there for a moment. Then I eased myself up and brushed off my rear, then reached into my pocket for my keys. Then the other pocket. The last time I’d seen my keys was when I was showing Kaitlin my TARDIS key ring and pressed the button so she could hear the whooshing sound effect. And then…I’d put it on the dash of her car. The one that had sped off into the night. Damn.
At least she’d be coming back tomorrow. Maybe she could let me in then.