What did that matter? “Because it rhymes with heaven? I don’t know. That’s not really important.”
“Right,” he agreed. “I’m just trying to make sure I’m understanding everything.”
“In that case you should know that it’s basically a couple being put into a closet or a room, and they’re supposed to kiss for seven minutes. The people outside keep track of the time and then they throw the door open when it’s over. They had me go in Anna-Marie’s bedroom.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to strengthen myself. This was the worst part. And it was the part I could not give him every detail of. “So I was waiting for Chris Quintana. He was the cutest boy in school—everyone had a crush on him.”
Noah’s eyes narrowed. “I already don’t like him.”
“It gets worse. So I’m in there waiting, feeling completely anxious and nervous because this was going to be my first-ever kiss, and Anna-Marie had this pillow. And the pillow had a picture of my celebrity crush on it.”
That celebrity had been Noah as Felix Morrison. Which I was never, ever going to tell him.
It was also part of the reason why I could never kiss him. I was worried it might be like reliving that moment again.
“And since I’d never been kissed, I thought I’d practice.” My whole face felt like it was on fire.
“And this Chris kid caught you?”
“Well, yes, but there was a problem. The face was like one of those puffy decal types and . . . my braces got caught on it. I was stuck. So he found me, my face pressed against a pillow, and he had to help me get free.”
“I mean, that’s embarrassing, but was that enough to put you off kissing forever?”
“That’s not all of it. Don’t get me wrong—that in and of itself was completely humiliating. I begged him not to tell anyone, and he was actually a pretty decent guy. He said he wouldn’t. And then . . .”
“And then?”
“Then he suggested that I should try kissing an actual boy, because it was a lot better. And I don’t know if it was just a mixture of embarrassment and adrenaline or what happened, as my brain wasn’t actually functioning in that moment, but I pretty much leaped on him with my teeth bared and smashed our faces together while attempting to ‘kiss’ him. I knocked him over and landed right on his face.”
His eyes widened in horror.
“I completely cut his mouth up. There was blood everywhere. He ran out of the room. As far as I know, he didn’t tell anyone the details, but it was pretty obvious what I had done. Everybody called me BB, for Bloody Braces, the rest of high school. The online bullying was relentless. Which meant that I wasn’t going to date any guy I knew, because everybody teased me constantly.”
“Understandable.” He paused. “To be honest, I thought you were going to tell me that someone hurt you. And that was why you steered clear of men.”
“No. Nobody hurt me. I was the one committing face felonies with my teeth blades.”
He smiled slightly at that, and it emboldened me to go on. “Then I went to college. And it was really awkward to be so far behind everyone else. I’d hated that feeling in high school, like there was this race everybody else was running, but I was still stuck at the starting line wondering when it was going to be my turn. Everybody else was having sex, and I’d never even kissed someone. So freshman year I decided to find a guy to make out with. I was friends with this girl from one of my math classes, and she said her boyfriend’s best friend was into noncommittal make outs and hooked up with different girls constantly. And I wasn’t going to sleep with him, but I thought kissing someone who knew what he was doing would be a good option.”
“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”
I hugged the pillow tighter. “This friend brought along her boyfriend and the four of us were hanging out and watching a movie, and then she came up with an excuse to leave. So here I was, alone with this guy in his living room, not knowing what to do and feeling fully freaked out. Waiting for him to make a move.”
“And what happened when he did?”
“He didn’t. The guy who was known on campus for cycling through every available woman wasn’t interested in me. Which was this total blow to my self-esteem and put me off the idea of dating for a long time. And then when I tried to get back into dating again, there was this boy in my statistics class who seemed decent and interested in me, and we went to a movie and ice cream and I was like, This is it. I’m going to kiss this guy. I thought I was too old to keep waiting.” I stopped for a second, worried that if I brought it up again, I’d be back in that moment, feeling the way I felt. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly and then kept going.
“So we were at my front door, saying good night. And he was moving in, getting closer and closer to me, and then it was like I’d been hit by a truck. I seriously thought I was having a heart attack because my heart was beating so hard. I was shaking, I couldn’t catch my breath, my chest hurt, I wanted to vomit. I couldn’t feel my hands or my feet. I thought I was going crazy. Somehow I said good night and went inside and I was about to call an ambulance, but after a couple of minutes on the floor, I was able to calm down.”
“That sounds awful.”
“It wasn’t fun. And I didn’t know where it had come from or why it had happened. And I couldn’t face that dude again. So I tried going out with someone else. And it happened again. Every time I got close to somebody, where it was possible they would kiss me, I was so terrified that I thought I would die.”
“Is that . . . is that how you feel when you’re with me?”
“I haven’t gone that far, because we haven’t come close to kissing. Obviously you’re super attractive and confident and charming and I respond to that, but all of that scares me to death at the same time. That’s why I said we have to be just friends. I can’t be more than friends, and this is why.”
“Do you have attacks at other times?” he asked.
“Nope, never. I thought maybe I had an anxiety disorder or something, but it seems to be centralized just around the kissing thing.”
“Have you ever seen a professional about it?”
I let out a laugh. “Before tonight, I couldn’t imagine even telling someone else, let alone a therapist. I don’t know why I’m telling you.” I paused. “That’s not true. It’s probably a little bit the alcohol, but I just . . . I know I can trust you.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
He pursed his lips together, seeming to be mulling something over. Then his eyes lit up. “Wait. Hang on. This would be a really weird coincidence.” He walked over to his bookcase, where there was a large stack of bundled papers. He dug through them until he found one and pulled it out. He flipped through a few pages. “Believe it or not, I’ve actually heard of this before. You might have philemaphobia. A fear of kissing. My agent wants me to do a romantic comedy, and she sent me this script that’s about what you’re describing.”
He handed it to me. It was titled The Worst First Kiss. I could almost hear my mom’s voice saying, “There’s no such thing as coincidences.” I’d never subscribed to that particular theory of hers, but I was much closer to believing it now. Jeez, if I was looking for a sign, you couldn’t ask for a bigger one than that.
As I glanced at a couple of the pages, not sure what I was looking for, he said, “In this script the heroine has that phobia, but it’s about germs. Is that a problem for you?”
“No. I don’t think about germs. I mean, more than one dog has licked my face, and I didn’t freak out about germs or anything. I’m not grossed out by kissing. It’s the act itself that is paralyzing for me.” I hesitated to ask my next question, but curiosity took over. “How does the heroine deal with it? Does she get over it?”
“She does. She learns to ground herself to deal with the attacks.”
“What does that mean?”
“Basically that instead of avoiding the feelings associated with the panic attacks, you l
et yourself feel them but stay in control by grounding yourself. Hold on, let me look it up real fast.” He turned pages until he found what he was looking for. “You’re supposed to think of five things you can see, four things you can feel, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, one thing you can taste. When your mind is racing, going through those steps is supposed to bring you back to the present so you can focus on what’s happening to you physically instead of being caught up in your brain. And deep breathing is supposed to help, too.”
“Really?” I was skeptical.
“In the script it works, and she also practices kissing with the hero, who is also her best friend, and she overcomes her phobia. There was a note that the scriptwriter overcame this thing in real life. I’m not an expert or anything, but it seems to me that it’s kind of similar to being afraid to fly or being terrified of tarantulas. You get over your fear by repeatedly exposing yourself to the thing you’re afraid of and working through your reaction.”
Logically it made sense. It also made me feel better that somebody else had been through the same thing as me, even if hers had happened for different reasons.
It was also the first time in a long time that I’d felt hope over my situation—what if I could overcome this? What if I could be in a normal relationship and actually be able to kiss someone without feeling like I was going to die?
That would be amazing.
As if he could read my mind, Noah asked, “Is that something that interests you? Trying to work through it? Or are you happy with the way things are?”
“I’ve never been happy that I’m like this—I just resigned myself to it. It’s been this shameful, dark, scary thing that I’ve been carrying around for a long time. And overreacting the way that I have, it’s made me avoid romance and men altogether. I would like things to be different.” I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life.
Noah nodded, his expression serious. I liked how calmly he seemed to be taking this in, how matter-of-factly he was processing it and looking for a solution. Which I supposed was a very male thing to do, but I appreciated the approach.
“Then I think I could help you.”
“And how are you going to do that?” I asked. Run me through meditation exercises? Find me the world’s leading expert on . . . whatever the name was for my kissing phobia that I couldn’t remember? Knowing the kind of guy he was, he’d probably insist on paying for my sessions and I’d have to tell him no and then we’d argue and—
He interrupted my train of thought and said, “Let me help you get over your fear. You could kiss me.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I don’t know why that was the last thing I expected him to say, given how our conversation had been going, but it was. A bolt of fear spiked inside me. “Oh.” I was going to ask him if he was serious, but I could see from his face that he was.
He said, “We’re friends, and I want to help you. Not to mention that I’m probably the best guy you could pick for a project like this. I have kissed a lot—and I mean a lot—of women. Both personally and professionally.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t sound quite so proud of that,” I said.
“I’m just giving you my CV so that you understand why I’m the best candidate for this job. I’m perfect for it—I can be whoever you want me to be. I could even go put the Malec costume back on.”
“Oh. No. Don’t do that.” It would be too weird. Right? But maybe it would work? Could I picture myself kissing Malec?
Little bit, yes. I could.
But I couldn’t ask him to do that. Or maybe I could. Or it would be a step too far. Maybe it would stress me out even worse, because I would know he wasn’t actually Malec, so it would be weird if he was pretending like he was.
On the other hand, I had really, really liked him in that costume.
“Have you worked it out in your head yet?” he asked in a teasing tone, and I immediately flushed in response.
“No. I wouldn’t want you to do that. If I said yes, I would want it to be just you.” Because Noah was the one I knew and trusted.
He was the one that would take care of me and wouldn’t let anything bad happen.
“Good.” He made it sound like that had been the right answer. “And in a way, you’d be doing me a favor, too. If I took this part, it would help me to have actual, personal knowledge about the material. Because so far my experience has been the opposite.”
“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 e
verything 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.”
The Seat Filler: A Novel Page 15
