That feeling I had last night was back. That Noah Douglas was trustworthy. Considering all he’d told me about his life and his family, it was clear that he kept his own secrets locked up tighter than Fort Knox . . . Wouldn’t he do the same for me? And maybe if I said the words out loud, to somebody else, it wouldn’t feel like this ridiculous, terrible secret. I might find relief saying it.

I mean, it was so dumb. What I’d been carrying around was stupid. And the accompanying panic attacks were even dumber. He was going to think I was ridiculous. How could he not when I already did?

I knew it was supposed to be a bad idea to tell him, but I couldn’t think of a single reason why. He was my friend. My good friend. And very, very, very trustworthy.

“I am trustworthy,” he agreed.

Okay, I was definitely tipsy, and all the things I thought were just inside my head I was apparently saying out loud. Maybe that was a sign that I was meant to say them. Meant to tell him. My mom was a big believer in signs, and I’d always dismissed them. Maybe I shouldn’t have.

And he was just my friend. That was the boundary we had agreed on. So there wouldn’t be any temptation to make it more, right?

“Do you have secrets?” I asked.

“That’s the thing that’s hard about my life—when someone’s interviewing you and you’ve developed this rapport, there’s this constant struggle between opening up and giving everything away but wanting to keep something for myself. I live in this twilight kind of world where my ability to do my job relies on my ability to be human and live a regular life, but I can’t do that. I’m always straining for normalcy and settling on what I can get. It’s one of the reasons I read. I get to experience so many different parts of humanity through stories and plays that I wouldn’t get to otherwise.”

“That’s a long-winded way of not answering my question.”

He laughed and said, “There are parts of my life I keep private from the press and the public, but they’re not secrets. I think a real secret, something I had to guard from everyone in my life, would be too hard for me to keep. It would weigh me down.”

That’s how I felt. Weighed down. And I didn’t want to keep feeling that way. Did that mean I was going to confess? My mind was a little muddled, but this seemed like the right move. I needed a moment to decide without him possibly overhearing my brain talking to itself. “I’m thirsty. Could I have some water?”

“Yeah, absolutely. I’ll be right back.”