“Can’t keep the women off you, huh?” I’d bet he’d never met another woman who didn’t want to kiss him.
“Occupational hazard,” he told me. He didn’t sound like he was complaining.
“I don’t know,” I told him. I was so worried it wasn’t going to work out, and then on top of everything else, I also would have wrecked my friendship with Noah, and I would probably get Shelby fired, too.
“I can’t believe I’m trying to convince you to kiss me,” he said.
“It does seem a little far-fetched,” I agreed.
“What are you worried about?”
Why did it feel like he could read my mind? There were so many things I was worried about. How badly this could all go. What his reaction would be when I inevitably freaked out. How if we started kissing, then it was entirely possible we might develop feelings for each other.
And I didn’t want that right now. “If I said yes to doing this, there would have to be some boundaries. Because the truth is, I don’t want the pressure of romantic feelings or emotions being in the way. It would be hard enough trying to fix my dysfunction without also worrying about relationship issues and problems on top of it. I think it would be too much.”
He looked confused. “You’re not interested in dating me? Why?”
I remembered my conversation with Zoe Covington. How hard things could be, how much they struggled to keep their personal lives private. The fans who didn’t understand the difference between reality and fantasy. “Even if I didn’t have this phobia, I don’t think you’re the kind of guy I could see myself with. Look at your life. I’m obviously a private person. I don’t share myself with many people, and some parts of your life have to be on display for the entire world. You’re hot and talented and women all over the world are dying to be with you. I think I’d always be worried that you couldn’t be faithful to me. And what if some crazy stalker attacked me for being your girlfriend? It would be a lot.”
I was trying to convince both of us, latching on to every negative thing in his life to make sure that we wouldn’t date. Because I couldn’t deal with it. Noah Douglas was not the kind of man you dated. There was no way he’d ever stick around, and I knew I’d never be able to deal with him walking away from me if I kissed him and fell in love with him.
Which probably had something to do with my father leaving me, but I wasn’t really up for examining my daddy issues.
“I disagree with just about everything you said, but I would respect your boundaries.” He sounded a little wounded, and I immediately felt bad. “So we don’t date. But if we are able to help you overcome your phobia, you will want to date somebody eventually, right? In that case, think of me as your seat filler until that guy shows up.”
“That doesn’t seem right,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to use you.” I worried that maybe I was being a little presumptuous. He might not want to date someone regular like me, either, who wouldn’t understand his lifestyle and wouldn’t be able to easily navigate the Hollywood landscape. Only unlike me, he was way too polite and respectful to list all the reasons why I wasn’t good enough to be his girlfriend.
Because you know, deep down, that you would never be enough for him. You don’t measure up, a voice inside me said, making me sad.
But he made things better by sporting a wicked smile that I felt deep in my gut. “I don’t object to being used in whatever way you’d like. But I’m aware of the situation and the parameters, and since I’m an adult, I can make my own decisions. I’m still in.”
He was giving me everything I could have asked for. Before I could talk myself out of accepting, I said, “Me too.”
His eyebrows lifted, like this wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. “Okay. Do you want to start now?”
The panic returned, making my chest feel like it was on fire. “No, no, I do not. I need to, I don’t know, get mentally prepared for it. Like, I need some time to realize that this is going to happen. With you.” Because that was a lot. “I should probably head home. I’ll just find a ride.”
I got out my phone. It felt like we’d been chatting for a long time, but it hadn’t been long enough that it was safe for me to drive.
“Put your phone away. It will be expensive to take an Uber. I’ll text someone from my car service.”
Now that I’d decided something so utterly earthshaking and life changing, I wanted to flee to deal with my conflicting emotions. It was a testament to how confused I felt that I didn’t argue with him about financing my way home. In that moment I didn’t care. All I cared about was that I couldn’t wait around and I needed space to work through this. “Isn’t that going to take forever?”
“Nope.” He typed something on his phone and then said, “They have a car that’s about ten minutes out.”
Then he looked at me expectantly, and it made me think that he wanted us to sit here and continue this conversation, which I was not up for. I needed to retreat, so I stood up. “I have to go lock my van up, and I’ll just wait for the driver out there.”
I saw his confusion. “You can wait here.”
“No, I don’t think I can. Is that okay?”
“Whatever you need. Let me walk you out.” And he didn’t seem disappointed, which was a relief for me. It made me feel less pressured.
He opened the door, and I stepped outside. “So, um, sorry about all the baggage I dumped on you tonight.”
Noah leaned against the door frame, and as my pulse beat hard, I wondered why that motion made him desperately more attractive. “You may not know this about me, but I’m very strong and can handle it. I have to special order supersize weights just so they’ll be enough of a challenge.”
Him teasing me made me feel better, made the pressure subside just a little bit. “That’s good, because I’m pretty sure my baggage is over the weight limit.”
He smiled, and I felt that moment of connection again, even though we were standing six feet apart.
Then he cleared his throat and said, “I should be home at about eight o’clock tomorrow night, if you want to come by.”
That made my heart squeeze painfully. The idea that we were making plans to meet up and kiss. “I can do that. And by eight o’clock do you mean eight o’clock, or do you mean, like, two in the morning?”
“Ha-ha. If something comes up, I’ll text you.”
“Okay.” At that point I should have said goodbye and walked away and hidden from him in my van. But I just stood there, like I wanted something else to happen.
Like there was something I still wanted to tell him. “I hope you know . . . what I told you? I’ve never told anyone else, ever.”
“I know. And it’s not an honor I take lightly.”
That connection returned, only this time it was urging me to walk back over to him, tell him I’d changed my mind and that we should immediately go inside and start practicing kissing right now.
“So . . . ,” he said, and I realized that I’d been standing there for an uncomfortable amount of time wrestling with myself. “Good luck with the new job tomorrow. I can’t imagine any job working for Mrs. Kravitch is going to be a fun one.”