My crush kissed me once, but it was one of those heightened drama situations, and he took it back later. I don’t know if you can really do that – take back the imprint you’ve made on someone else’s heart, but it’s impossible for me to be angry about it.
His little brother was in a car accident. I went to the hospital with Hannah and Scott. The girl Seth was quasi-dating / hooking up with was already there in the waiting room. We waited around in the lobby and when he finally came down he told us that it looked like his brother would be o.k.
His eyes were so bloodshot. He told everyone they should go, that it would be a long time before they knew anything else. He kissed his girlfriend of the week goodbye and she left. Scott and Hannah and I started to go, but he grabbed my hand and asked me to stay for a minute. (As though he needed to ask.)
He pulled me down the hall into some random corridor and he told me with tears in his eyes that it was all his fault, he was supposed to get the brakes changed and he hadn’t. (And of course that had nothing to do with the accident, some guy ran a stop sign, that’s all, but he wasn’t thinking rationally. I guess if he’d been thinking rationally, the rest of it never would have happened.)
I hugged him and kept telling him it was going to be alright, and just like in the movies he started kissing my forehead, and then my cheek, and then everything got turned upside down because suddenly he was kissing me.
Is it horrible that it was the best couple of minutes of my life? It was the most romantic, dramatic thing that had ever happened to me. The guy I was totally in love with needed me to be there with him, nobody but me, and having it all end in a hot make-out session? Total dream come true.
After a few minutes he stopped, and he looked shocked by what he’d done, and he said, “Oh hell Cordy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
Can a heart shatter? Because mine felt like it did. I burst into tears, like he needed to deal with my drama right at that particular moment.
He kept telling me he was sorry, that he was just upset, he hadn’t meant it, and he wasn’t sure why he’d done it, but he was so, so sorry. After a second I tried to pull it together and I left.
His brother turned out to be o.k., more or less – a concussion and a broken arm and some bumps and bruises and one severe gash that they’d been worried about that night, but that was healing well.
Over the next few days, Seth kept telling me over and over again how sorry he was – in notes and phone calls and conversations where he kept telling me he hadn’t meant it, and he was so sorry for crossing that line. “We’re just friends,” he kept reminding me.
Yes, I know. I know.
That was two years ago, and that was the only time he ever kissed me, but I can still feel exactly how it felt.