“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 kissing and getting through it can help you overcome it.”

I wanted that to be true so badly. I couldn’t picture myself going to a professional’s office and doing therapy. Not only because I couldn’t afford it, but it was so hard telling Noah the truth that I didn’t want to have to do it all over again. I realized that there was a possibility this wouldn’t work, but I was still hopeful that it would.

If things got worse instead of better, maybe I’d have to consider seeing a therapist. I hoped it didn’t come to that.

Noah was still talking, and I made myself pay attention. “One therapist called it sexual stage fright, and I know stage fright. You want to throw up and run away, but then you have to go out there and perform. And it gets a bit easier each night. You just start off small and then build up from there.”

There was a pounding in my head that was so loud it made it difficult to hear him. My lungs were starting to constrict as my body got itself ready to jump immediately into fight or flight. “That makes sense.”

“And I want to make some promises to you. I am not going to make fun of your kissing or tease you about how you do it, and I’ll never judge you. I won’t do anything that you haven’t asked me to do. You’re the director here—what you say goes. Nothing will happen unless you want it to, okay? So I’m promising that I’m never going to get caught up and forget myself.”

“Even if you really want to?”