and it just sounds off or wrong? And it makes you cringe, because that’s not how you hear yourself in your own head?”
“Sure.”
“It’s like that for me, but for some reason it bothers me a thousand times worse than it seems to for other people. Plus, I see all my mistakes and all the different choices I should have made for a scene, and it drives me crazy. I basically just run them over and over again in my head. So I’ve learned not to watch my own work.”
I couldn’t help it. My face fell. I had totally wanted to watch the last movie in the Duel of the Fae trilogy with him and demand answers.
“What’s that look for?” he asked.
I should have known that he, of all people, would notice. “This means I can’t ask you what the writer and director of the third movie were thinking when they freaking killed Malec. He joined the good guys, risked his life to save Aliana, they admit their love, and then . . . he’s just dead? How is that a happy ending?” I was so caught up in my indignation that I accidentally added on, “You know, he doesn’t die in the books. Instead of having to live up to some masculine fantasy of being a noble martyr, he gets to pay for his misdeeds by actually physically atoning for them and making reparations to the people he’s hurt. And he gets to be with Aliana and get married and have little fairy babies. I guess it doesn’t matter now that the movie’s over, but I’ll never not be mad that they killed Malec Shadowfire. That ending was so bad it should be tried at The Hague.” It also infuriated me that the movie studio had severely underestimated Malec’s popularity and had walked away from hundreds of millions of dollars in continuing his story through animations, novels, or comic books.
Noah just looked amused. “Given this a lot of thought, have you?”
“Yes. And now I’m getting upset all over again. So before that happens, we should just, you know, kiss or whatever. That’s what I’m here for, right?”
“That is why you’re here.” He set his bowl down in the sink and walked over to me. I was already pressed up against the wall, so there was nowhere for me to go. “So, Juliet Nolan, are you ready?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I was so not ready. My adrenaline grabbed me by the throat, making my heart beat out of control. “I want to say yes, but can we, like, be sitting down or something?”
“I should probably go brush my teeth. Like you already did.” He winked at me, and it annoyed me.
What was he implying? “Did you consider that maybe I just have a dedication to good oral hygiene?”
“You were getting ready for our kiss.”
“That wasn’t it.”
“Your minty breath says otherwise.” He said it as a parting shot as he left the kitchen. I made my way into the library and found Magnus already there, lying in his oversize dog bed near the fireplace.
I sat down on the couch, rubbing my wet palms against my pant legs. I tried telling myself that I was okay. Noah was a good guy and I had nothing to worry about.
Before I could get too into my own head, he returned. “Hey, would it help if I got you a drink?”
“No.” I shook my head harder than I needed to. “I’ve tried that before, and it didn’t work. If anything, alcohol just made things worse, because everything seemed even more out of control. I need to be sober for this.”
“Okay.” He sat on the couch next to me. “So I stayed up late last night doing research.”
“You did?” Why did that make my heart quiver? It seemed so sweet and thoughtful. I hadn’t bothered to look up my phobia at all, but he’d stayed up to do just that?
“Of course. You’re my friend. I want to help you. And from the things I read, your reaction to kissing is a hardwired, conditioned response, and you can’t just logic or reason your way out of it. That’s why it’s a phobia. It’s not supposed to be rational. There’s actually not a ton of information about philemaphobia, although it’s not supposed to be as severe as other phobias. With other phobias you might have to get cognitive behavioral therapy or exposure therapy. What we’re doing is kind of like a home version of exposure therapy. And supposedly just the act of