signs, and I’d always dismissed them. Maybe I shouldn’t have.
And he was just my friend. That was the boundary we had agreed on. So there wouldn’t be any temptation to make it more, right?
“Do you have secrets?” I asked.
“That’s the thing that’s hard about my life—when someone’s interviewing you and you’ve developed this rapport, there’s this constant struggle between opening up and giving everything away but wanting to keep something for myself. I live in this twilight kind of world where my ability to do my job relies on my ability to be human and live a regular life, but I can’t do that. I’m always straining for normalcy and settling on what I can get. It’s one of the reasons I read. I get to experience so many different parts of humanity through stories and plays that I wouldn’t get to otherwise.”
“That’s a long-winded way of not answering my question.”
He laughed and said, “There are parts of my life I keep private from the press and the public, but they’re not secrets. I think a real secret, something I had to guard from everyone in my life, would be too hard for me to keep. It would weigh me down.”
That’s how I felt. Weighed down. And I didn’t want to keep feeling that way. Did that mean I was going to confess? My mind was a little muddled, but this seemed like the right move. I needed a moment to decide without him possibly overhearing my brain talking to itself. “I’m thirsty. Could I have some water?”
“Yeah, absolutely. I’ll be right back.”
I’d never even come close to telling anyone else. I thought about things he’d said to me, how he’d joined the military to have a life that was more authentic, more real. Was I guilty of not being my truest self because I kept something like this a secret? Normally it didn’t consume a lot of my mental or emotional energy because I stayed away from attractive men and just lived my life.
Until I didn’t.
Until I ended up on the couch of a movie star that I was desperately attracted to, and maybe the best way to make sure that I didn’t have a full-blown meltdown in front of him was to tell him the truth so that he’d see why we had to stay just friends.
Although, to be fair to Noah, he was so . . . compassionate. Empathetic. He’d been nothing but respectful toward me. And I didn’t think he’d make fun of me. Because he was a mature adult who had really lived and had his current life together. He wasn’t a frat boy or a high school football jock. Perhaps someone who had devoted his career to understanding the human condition would be understanding toward me.
Maybe it would be cathartic. Liberating.
He came back in the room and handed me a water bottle. He’d poured himself a bowl of cereal.
Cold fingers of fear wrapped themselves around my spine, and I tried to temporarily distract myself. I was going to do it, but I was afraid, and my body was trying to buy some time to convince my mind it should choose differently. “You’re eating again?”
“It happens all the time. I eat a ton of cereal. I don’t really ever feel full.”
If I had been looking for a sign, there it was. That connection of “we’re the same” sparked again. He would get me. He already did.
My heart pounded so loud in my ears that I felt light-headed. I breathed in deeply and realized that my limbs were shaking. I wanted to stop feeling this way. So I was going to tell him and get it all out.
“I want to tell you why I don’t date.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Okay.” He kept eating, which surprised me. It felt like such a monumental occasion that it deserved him putting down his food and giving me his full attention. Or maybe this was better. He wasn’t staring at me, which would have made this worse.
“You can’t laugh,” I told him. “If you laugh, I am walking out your front door and I’m never coming back. I’m serious.”
He swallowed his mouthful. “I won’t laugh.”
“Promise me.”
Now he was the one making an X over his heart. “I promise.”
This was it. I was going to do it.
Swallowing back that nauseated feeling that was growing in my gut, I said, “I don’t date because . . . I’m terrified of kissing anyone. Like, just the idea of doing it makes me freak out. The times