Repercussions of a Kiss

“Hey Mom. What’s up?”

This story is from Lilian, a 24-year-old legal assistant from Boston, as told to Raz: 

Every year, my family takes a trip to Maine. We’re one of several families who do the same, year after year. It’s nice because we all know each other, and each time is like a great big reunion. It’s especially nice because one of the other families has a gorgeous twenty something son, Jacob, who I’ve been crushing on for years.

On a recent trip, all the “kids” snuck off to get wasted on the first night. Somehow, I ended up back in Jacob’s hotel room instead of the one I shared with my sister (Oops!). I may have been hammered, but I remember it being an epic makeout session—even though that’s all it was. I woke up the next morning feeling great, if a little hungover. Then I realized what time it was; my parents would be knocking on my hotel room door any minute, asking us to join them for breakfast. Did I mention that Jacob’s family hadn’t stayed in the same hotel as us that year, and that his room was a good three miles from mine?

Holding my heels, I ran the whole way back to my hotel. My feet were throbbing by the time I was halfway there, and strangely, so was my mouth. No time to think about that though, I just had to focus on getting back.

When I crashed back into my room, my sister didn’t even comment on the fact that I’d been out all night. Instead she just said, “What the hell happened to your face?”

I looked in the mirror. It looked like someone had recently punched me in the mouth. Apparently, Jacob was a biter, and my lips were huge, bruised and swollen. And they really hurt!

My sister tossed me a can of Coke from the mini fridge, and I held it to my mouth in a desperate attempt to reduce the swelling.

My parents knocked. I threw a robe around last night’s outfit and hopped into bed. Then I popped the can open and awkwardly held it in front of my face, pretending to drink as my parents asked us to get dressed and meet them in the lobby.

A little makeup pretty much did the trick, and by that evening I was looking close to normal. I was having a drink at the hotel bar with my sister, pausing in between sips to hold the cold glass to my face, when Jake approached. She suddenly had to use the bathroom, and Jake and I were left alone. He went in for the kiss.

“Stop,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Good question…” I hadn’t actually thought up an answer yet. “Well, I sunburned my mouth today, so it really hurts.” For some reason, admitting that my skin was too sensitive for his hard-core kissing didn’t seem like it would lead to a fun conversation.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said. I let him kiss me this time, and it was a little bit better—no biting.

Later in the night, a couple more friends met up with us, and we switched to a local bar. There, Jacob kissed me again. This time, he seemed to have forgotten all about the gentleness and went straight for the bite. Unlike last night, however, I wasn’t too drunk to notice. I told Jacob I was tired and wanted to sleep alone that night.

The moral of this story? Kiss me badly once, shame on you. Kiss me badly twice, shame on me.