When we got back to my room and were closed in together, Zoey got nervous. It was odd knowing her emotions so thoroughly now, but it also felt so natural most of the time that I didn’t even think about it.
“What’s wrong?” she asked me as she toyed with her nails, unable to look my way.
This was her, the real, vulnerable woman I loved.
That L-word didn’t even freak me out. I loved Zoey with everything in my being, but I wasn’t sure I could live a fake life again. I’d grown up that way and hated it.
“It’s complicated,” I told her honestly.
“Is it something I did?”
“Yes, but not purposefully.”
Her brow furrowed as she studied me now.
“We need to talk about this. It’s not the first time you’ve gone cold and emotionally pulled a one-eighty like that.”
I sighed. “I know. It’s hard to explain.”
“Can you at least try?”
I nodded and patted the bed next to me for her to sit.
“Are you aware that when you’re around other people, especially groups of people, you turn plastic?”
“Plastic? What does that mean?”
“You become fake. You put on this persona for other people. It’s like you’re wearing a plastic mask. You’re you, but you’re not. You’re a little too perfect. You say all the right things. Your body stiffens awkwardly. You are the picture of perfection even when I can feel your underlying nerves.”
“I’m aware. Fake it till you make it and all that shit.”
“I hate it,” I admitted.
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“I hate it when you morph into that cold, untouchable person. That’s not you, Zoey.”
“But it is.”
“It’s not. I know the real you. I love the real you, but I don’t know that person you become.”
“You love me?”
“Of course I love you, but that’s not what we’re discussing here.”
She softened and stared at me as if she were mesmerized by what I’d just confessed.
Who could spend more than ten minutes with the real Zoey Rey and not fall in love?
“Sorry, what were we talking about?”
I chuckled and shook my head. For someone so incredibly focused when it came to her image and work, she sure was easy to distract. I hadn’t meant to though. I really felt like this was something important we needed to work through.
“Focus. This is serious.”
“I’m trying. You think I’m fake, cold, untouchable, and plastic. Yet you still love me?”
“Yeah, I do. And I can even sort of get why you act this way, but I still don’t like it.”
