Page 51 of Zach
“I can see how you would think that. But I’m just trying to be smart. I haven’t moved in twelve
years. I just…needed to be sure about this first. I’ve had a hard month and maybe needed to…protect
myself.” I shrug, not sure how to explain to this put together man that I’m an emotional wreck most
days, and feel like running away from my life. Only I’m the problem, and there’s no running away
from me.
He hums low in his throat, staring off over my shoulder. I take the opportunity to study him. I still
wonder if that hair is soft or not. I curl my fingers into my palms, tempted to walk over there and
check. That would be a no-no. Do not fondle the boss. Pretty sure there was a clause about that in the
employment contract. And if there wasn’t, then there definitely should be.
“I don’t mean to make you feel…unstable here,” he says haltingly. I nod encouragingly. Not sure
what I’m encouraging him to say, but he seems to need something from me. He rubs his mouth and
locks his gaze on me. “Marketing is all about perception. I go out into the world and represent this
company. That requires me to look and act a certain way. You…”
I wrinkle up my face and fill in the words he hesitates to say. “I don’t look the part. I’m aware.
You won’t offend me if you just say it.”
“Ok, you don’t fit in. Your clothes are frumpy and your shoes are the most godawful things I’ve
seen in my life.”
“You don’t like my dress?” I ask in mock surprise, satisfied to see his lip curl in disgust again. It’s
easy to handle people judging my clothes…because it takes the attention off me. Come to think of it,
my baggy dress is a better disguise than Clark Kent’s glasses.
I stand and take a few steps toward him. “I learned a long time ago that a person’s appearance has
very little to do with who they actually are. And that the finest clothes can hide the darkest hearts.”
9
ZACH
The finest clothes hide the darkest hearts.
Doesn’t that just hit me in the throat? Oh, I’m not dumb enough to think her words have
much to do with me. But they hit close. My clothes, my hair, my smile, all of it is a costume I
put on for the world. Ok, and maybe for me. Because I want people to look at me and see a strong,
successful man, instead of the worry-riddled, selfish man I really am.
How can she stand there in her hideous outfit and not care? She knows people judge her and yet
