{"id":21907,"date":"2021-06-30T11:00:11","date_gmt":"2021-06-30T10:00:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.city-academy.com\/news\/?p=21907"},"modified":"2025-05-21T15:58:07","modified_gmt":"2025-05-21T14:58:07","slug":"the-kiss-list-by-ilana-conway","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.city-academy.com\/news\/the-kiss-list-by-ilana-conway\/","title":{"rendered":"‘The Kiss List’ by Ilana Conway"},"content":{"rendered":"
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'The Kiss List' was written by Ilana Conway for our City Academy Short Story Competition 2021. <\/em><\/p>\n

Please note that this story is intended for an adult audience.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div>

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The Kiss List<\/h2>\n

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151 was vicious. He spat in her face, but she liked that. He flipped her over and pushed her face into the pillow, swore at her, pulled her hair. She gripped the sides of the bed, something to hold on to. The bed creaked and her hip bones drove into broken springs. When it was over he just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, like they all did. Later, Gina would add him to her list, another number with a name she struggled to remember. But there were always parts of their faces she recalled, tied to their numbers - an arched eyebrow, brilliant blue eyes.<\/p>\n

The Kiss List began at age 14. The gang all had one. Four Kiss Lists: one each for Kelly, Sharon, Clary and Gina, decorated with hearts, flowers and pastel pink lipstick marks. \u201cThe first name on the list should be special,\u201d Kelly had said. This was their first kiss after all. But none of theirs had been. They got over those fumbled saliva swaps quickly, leaving behind memories of dribbling spit and too much tongue, racing on to the next, and the next. \u201cThe more kisses you get, the closer you get to him \u2013 your true love! Right Gina?\u201d Kelly made a heart shape with her hands, peered through the arches at her best friend, winking. \u201cMakes sense. The One.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah we all want him!\u201d
\n\u201cMaybe he\u2019ll look like Mr. Parker!\u201d \u201cMaybe he\u2019ll look like Leo!\u201d
\n\u201cHe\u2019ll probably just look like Trev!\u201d \u201cSpeak for yourself!\u201d<\/p>\n

Their lists grew and they added stars for action below the belt, for fingers, BJs, probing tongues, anything ticklish. They planned circles around names for the full shebang, compared results at the weekends, drinking milkshakes at the bowling alley. Every week, Gina\u2019s Kiss List grew the most. Kelly would sulk, chewing her straw. Sharon\u2019s eyes would narrow as she aggressively bit down on a cookie. Clary just doodled all over her almost barren list, trying to fill empty space with colours and lines, and mellow out the awkwardness with grand plans of her next unattainable target. But Gina couldn\u2019t help it if their mothers were stricter, insisted on open bedroom doors during mixed-gender study sessions, or worse, that they, \u201ccontinue that Science project in the kitchen please children!\u201d And besides, when it came to the kissing, Gina put the work in, didn\u2019t she? She leaned in when she felt Will\u2019s gaze on her chest and kept eye contact strong and steady with Kelvin. With Barry, she fluttered her eyelashes or looked down coyly. She\u2019d practiced \u2018coy\u2019 in front of the mirror, \u2018bold\u2019 too, different strokes of sexy for every new entry on the list. The other girls just couldn\u2019t keep up.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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They started meeting without her - no one likes a winner. They left her out of slumber parties and pizza nights, so she hit number 20 alone at lunch break, with the help of Gareth from their school\u2019s closest rival, Cravenwell Comprehensive. She celebrated with a single scoop of Baskin Robbins, instead of the Ice Cream Sundae they\u2019d all planned for the big two oh. After school, Pistachio Chocolate Chip rising up in her throat, she went and stood by the gates of Cravenwell again and found Gareth, not to get a new number, but to put a circle around an old one. Then she was a woman, leaving her girl gang trailing behind.<\/p>\n

151 stirred, his post-ejaculation slumber interrupted by her breathing. She couldn\u2019t help breathing.
\n\u201cGina, Gina, Gina...What are we going to do with you?\u201d
\nShe plastered a smile on her face. Her glow was fading fast.<\/p>\n

\u201cGlad you remember my name,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cDo you remember mine?\u201d
\n\u201cMark...no - Miles?\u201d
\nHe sighed, gave a wry smile, \u201cGood job Einstein.\u201d
\nShe looked pointedly at the door.
\n\u201cOh, you want me to go? Come on, let\u2019s have a smoke first.\u201d<\/p>\n

She\u2019d taken up smoking semi-regularly at number 40 - only after, or during, sex. Gina had always been determined to keep her lungs free of toxic smoke, even long before she cut the toxic girls out of her life. They\u2019d tried their first Silk Cut together and all hated it. Still, they\u2019d carried on puffing, except for her. She caved when number 40 came up from between her legs and lit her a Camel Light, before sinking back down. The head rush forced her orgasm out in one loud, crashing moan. She chased that high all the way to number 57, her only long-term boyfriend, and the only man since number 40 who\u2019d made her come like that. Ten whole months. He\u2019d liked her a lot, loved her even. He\u2019d loved her even more when she invited Miss 58 to join them for long weekends and late night parties. He never found out about 59 and 60, but he read a text from 61 and gave her no chance to explain. He left the next day and Gina hit 62 that very evening.<\/p>\n

Number 31 is when they all really turned on her. Kelly in the school playground, tall for her age, taller than Gina, who\u2019d developed breasts but not height. The boys preferred the breasts. \u201cCome and get it if you want it!\u201d Kelly shrieked, waving Gina\u2019s Kiss List above her head. \u201cOr isn\u2019t that what you say to all the guys?!\u201d<\/p>\n

Gina stretched up, the list a vast chasm away. \u201cGive it here Kelly! Give it back!\u201d
\n\u201cNever!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cYou\u2019re a bitch!\u201d
\n\u201cBen - star, Jack - star, Gareth ...oooh circle around Gareth!\u201d Kelly gasped, moving her hips back and forth for the audience that gathered around them. Some of the boys had stopped their game, moving closer to the screaming girls. Ben made blowjob motions and they all giggled, just as Miss Tregon started yelling, striding over from across the playground. Kelly\u2019s arm lowered and Gina grabbed at the list, ripping it in two.<\/p>\n

She never really trusted girls after that. She even kept the girls she slept with at a distance. She found out what they tasted like, but didn\u2019t care for the flavours of their souls. 51 and 102 got close to knowing her, but she held her hopes and dreams aloft over them, delighting in their confusion as they stretched up to reach her, always falling short. She knew they cried when she didn\u2019t return their calls.<\/p>\n

She travelled the world from numbers 70 to 95, spending more than a score in Spain. She found balmy, sweaty sex on the balconies of Barcelona, and kisses as fierce as the wind in Tarifa, where saliva mixed with salt and sand on the sea breeze. She opened her eyes mid- kiss and peeked at Africa.<\/p>\n

151 lived around the corner from her. Nothing exotic about him. His penis was average in size.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d ruled out sex dreams a long time ago, although some were so real she\u2019d almost wavered. She could have reached a thousand by now. But at least in her waking hours she could see their faces clearly. Well, most of the time. Sometimes she blurred them with gin<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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and wine, hazed over them with weed and vodka. She made up the difference later, sketching in the spaces with brows, noses and lips of all the numbers that came before.<\/p>\n

And every time they left she would reach inside the drawer, the one with the condoms and the lube and rummage around for her black and red notepad, never quite in the same place she\u2019d left it. Triple digits reached over halfway through now. Smudged names and numbers harked back to nights of smeared lipstick and torn knickers. Most of the names were
\ncircled. The pages were grungy, the ink fading. Weird - she took good care of her possessions and her books were usually pristine. But the notepad\u2019s insides were slowly crumbling, becoming more and more dog-eared. Sometimes she\u2019d notice a turned-up corner. Once, she found a long, brunette hair, unlike her translucent blonde strands. She\u2019d picked it out, stared at it, then walked over to the bin and flicked it away. Stuck to the inside front cover of the book, was the original Kiss List, long outgrown.<\/p>\n

\u201cGirls, stop this at once!\u201d
\nMiss Tregon hadn\u2019t been pleased.
\n\u201cThere\u2019s to be no bullying in my school!\u201d
\nKelly\u2019s eyes were scrunched up in fury. She looked down at Gina, who stood panting, hearing nothing the teacher said. Even the sportiest of the boys had stopped their kick around now. The football rolled slowly over to Gina\u2019s feet.
\n\u201cThat slut started it Miss!\u201d shouted Kelly, teeth barred. \u201cShe\u2019s a slag! Look at all these guys she\u2019s stuck her tongue down. And she\u2019s sucked them off too!\u201d The crowd gasped, sniggered. \u201cAnd that\u2019s not all Miss, she\u2019s...\u201d
\n\u201cEnough!\u201d hollered Miss Tregon.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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The sound of laughter grew. Even Clary, Gina\u2019s most loyal friend from primary school, the only one who still answered her phone calls, was giggling, barely even trying to hide it. Miss Tregon took a few deep breaths. Gina\u2019s cheeks reddened. They all had a list, why was hers any different? All she\u2019d done is do well! They should be cheering her on, like she\u2019d do for them, not singling her out and laughing at her success. How dare they? Hands shaking, she picked up the football. Stretching up as far she could, she leaned back and smacked it upwards onto Kelly\u2019s stupid head.<\/p>\n

Right, I\u2019m gonna make a move now,\u201d said 151, He stubbed his cigarette out into last night\u2019s wine.
\n\u201cSee you around?\u201d
\n\u201cYeah \u2013 maybe.\u201d She looked him over as he stood in the doorway. He waved awkwardly. \u201cBye...\u201d<\/p>\n

She reached for her notepad as soon as the door slammed. It fell open on the inside front cover, the original, torn Kiss List winking up at her. The halfway point was taped together, its words smeared with tear stains and drops of blood. She ran her fingers over the droplets, long dried up. The tears had long dried too.<\/p>\n

The playground was silent for once, in the moments before the screaming started. Who would have known that a football could cause so much damage? Who would have known that Kelly would fall so heavily, all her height crashing down on to that jagged paving stone that the school had been meaning to fix for months? Who would have known there\u2019d be so much blood? It flooded out of Kelly, staining her brown hair dark red. She didn\u2019t die straight away. Amongst the pushing and the cries and the shouts for an ambulance, the space between the two girls stood silent, a vacuum that filled up slowly with memories: sharing snacks and skipping ropes, secret alcopops and skipped lessons. They stared at each other, Gina\u2019s eyes flooding with tears of horror and realisation, Kelly\u2019s wide and disbelieving.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cYou bitch,\u201d Kelly whispered. \u201cI hope your list \u2013\u201d
\n\u201cK-Kelly, I-I\u2019m sorry\u201d, stammered Gina.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI hope you never \u2013\u201d
\nGina crouched down beside her. \u201cPlease, Kelly, I \u2013\u201d
\n\u201cI hope your list goes on forever, and \u2013 and you never find him,\u201d Kelly spat out. Blood trickled down the side of her chin.<\/p>\n

Gina flicked forward in the notepad, through pages of different inks and foreign names, past English gents and drunk ravers, and the ones who bought her presents and dinners, or just a drink and the morning-after-pill. Or nothing at all. \u201c151\u201d, she wrote. \u201cMiles.\u201d Star. Circle.<\/p>\n

The blood formed a cloud-shaped splatter, like the ones they painted in art class, drawing scrawny tails on to make sheep, pointed ears pricked up to follow the herd. Kelly squinted up at her.
\n\u201cK-keep on kissing Gina.\u201d Kelly\u2019s lips turned bruised blue, like one too many colours merging on a palette. \u201cI\u2019ll make sure you never find your one true love.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>

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About Ilana Conway<\/strong><\/p>\n

Ilana Conway writes fiction exploring time, memory, and our sense of reality. A long-time short story enthusiast, she began focusing on this genre a few years ago through creative writing courses<\/a>. When she\u2019s not piecing together characters\u2019 recollections, she works as a UX Writer for a legal tech platform. She lives in London and can be contacted via Twitter @ilana_conway.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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