She pushed play and the movie started up again. After a minute or two, she said, “I wonder if Noah Douglas kisses like that in real life. If he’d be all aggressive and take charge.”
Without thinking, I said, “He’s actually very sweet and gentle.” I immediately realized my mistake, and it was like time came to a complete stop.
Shelby stood up and shrieked, “What?” Only she lengthened the vowel sound in the word for, like, twenty seconds. “You’ve kissed Noah Douglas? Where? When? How? Anywhere interesting? What else should I know? How is this happening and you haven’t said one word to me? You’ve been sending me these texts saying ‘what’s up’ and what was up was that you were making out with Noah Douglas! Details, now. All of them.”
I sighed. Now I was the one who was about to have a difficult conversation.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When I didn’t respond, I saw her suck in a big breath, ready to barrage me with another round of questions. I held up my hands to ward her off. “In order for me to tell you anything, you have to stop talking first and sit back down.”
And there was no way to tell her about Noah without giving her the full picture. I wasn’t terrified or frozen by the idea of telling her. Maybe it was because I’d already told Noah everything? My secret no longer felt earth-shattering. These stories had somehow just become part of who I’d been, and they didn’t define me.
I didn’t know who to give credit to for that.
So I filled her in, starting with what had happened to me in high school (which she’d never known about, since we’d gone to different schools) and about my full-blown phobia over kissing. I also told her about my arrangement with Noah—how he was helping me to overcome my phobia, but that we were strictly friends and nothing more. While I talked her eyes kept getting bigger and bigger until she resembled an anime character.
When I had caught her up on everything that had happened between him and me through the events of tonight, I tensed up, some small and scared part of me still believing she might think I was weird or make fun of me. But I should have known better. There was a reason she was my best friend.
“That’s why you never date,” she said sympathetically, taking both of my hands in hers. “I wish I’d known. I was always pushing you at guys and this was how you felt? I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
“How?” I said with a laugh.
“I just should have had best friend ESP or something. You really think that trying to kiss Noah Douglas is going to fix this?”
“That’s kind of the plan.”
She gave me a sad smile. “Is falling in love with him also the plan?”
What? That wasn’t going to happen. “I told you, we’re just friends.”
“You like him as a person. It sounds like you guys click really well and get each other’s sense of humor. You are friends. You add in attraction and intimacy and physicality? Like, that’s going to go somewhere.”
She wasn’t seeing the big picture. “It isn’t. We’re compartmentalizing. I’ve compartmentalized for a really long time. I can do it here, too.”
“You’d have to be superhero-level strong to avoid falling for this guy.” She gestured toward the TV.
“Call me Supergirl. I got this.”
“Okay. You can claim friends only, but you do realize that you’re dating him, right?”
“How do you figure that? We’ve been very clear with each other on what this is,” I said. Even if my heart sometimes wanted to forget.
“Why don’t you want it to be more?”
“So many reasons. Trying to work through my phobia is sort of sucking up all of my emotional energy. The fact that I know things aren’t going to work out between us. That I’m pretty sure he’ll get bored with me and cheat with some groupie and leave.” I let out a shaky breath. Why was this upsetting me? I knew how things had to be.
“I don’t believe that. He was in the army. Don’t they breed them to be loyal? He’d probably make an excellent boyfriend.”
“Being monogamous for Noah Douglas means beating off thousands of women with a stick. For me it means not matching with somebody on Tinder. Unless he defines faithfulness as small bursts of devotion that are followed up by him having the freedom to do what he wants.”
She frowned. “How would you even know that?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s on a date right now.” That sickly jealous feeling returned, making my stomach queasy.
“Do you know that for sure?”
“No. But look at him.” Now it was my turn to point at the TV. “Who wouldn’t want to date him?”
“That’s not what matters. He can make his own choices, and just because someone wants to hook up with him doesn’t automatically mean he’s going to do it. He’s not an infidelity robot set to ‘accept all requests.’”
Maybe I wasn’t being fair to him. “I don’t know why I feel this way. Maybe it’s some internalized thing I have because my dad cheated on my mom and she’s spent my entire life resenting him for it.”
“Which means you should ignore the negative voice in your head and try trusting him.”
Did this mean I had another false voice in my head, telling me something was true when it wasn’t? “Putting that aside, you’re operating under the assumption that he wants to date me.”
“Why wouldn’t he? You’re amazing.”
“You have to say that because you’re my best friend.”
“I’m your best friend because it’s true.” She let out a little wistful sigh. “And have you considered the possibility that you’re making him want you more by refusing to date him?”
“How do you figure that?”
“Don’t you remember that one interview he did for Entertainment Monthly where he said something about how one of the reasons that he joined the military was because everything in his life was too easy, it was all being handed to him and he wanted something he had to work for? Something that not everyone could do. That’s you. You’re making him work for you, and it’s probably a novel experience for him. Keeping him at arm’s length is probably just going to have the opposite effect.”
That was just Shelby speculating. She didn’t know that for sure, so I said, “I don’t think that’s true.”
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But let me just say—ahoy, mateys. I’m onboard this ship.” She playfully saluted me.
Now it was my turn to sigh. “What ship? There’s no relationship.”
“Just because you’re in denial about what’s happening doesn’t mean it’s not happening. You certainly are dating him. You go places with him. You spend your evenings together. You’re kissing him. You are in a relationship.”
That panicky feeling, the one that had been my almost constant companion lately, returned, making my pulse race. “I can’t be.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t know.” I whispered the words, barely able to say them. I’d pushed this thing so far out of my head that it was painful to be speaking them out loud.