Page 166 of Zach


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“Because I forced you into a gown that nearly peeled the skin from your fucking body and I

wanted you to have a better experience this time around.”

“This isn’t a gown, though.”

“No, but it’s the same principle. You could use some new clothes, so why not let me get you

some?”

I shrug and rest my elbow on the arm of the chair, dropping my temple into my hand. Why did I

bring this up? This conversation will not end in anything good.

“Maya, please, tell me what’s going on in your head. I thought this would be fun.”

That surprises a chuckle out of me. “Fun? Clothes shopping isn’t fun. Though,” I grudgingly admit,

“this is better than going to a store.” His dark hair is tousled, and I want to run my fingers through it. I

don’t know if I’m allowed to, though. Is there a certain number of dates you have to go on before that

kind of intimacy?

“What’s going through my head?” I exhale and rub at my brow. “I feel like we’re so different, and

you’re bringing me here for clothes, so I don’t embarrass you when we’re out together. I feel like you

want me to be someone else.”

He rises, looming over me with fiery eyes, jaw clenched, then turns and walks away, further into

the store. The intensity rolling off of him in waves is a little shocking, but I don’t blame him. He’s

doing something nice, and I can’t help but question it. But aren’t we supposed to be honest with each

other? Isn’t that what we agreed on?

He stops near a rolling clothing rack filled with men’s suits. Suits very much like the kind he’s

wearing. Suits that probably cost more than most people make in a month. Zach rakes his hands

through his hair, fingers clenching at the back of his head. Tension is in every line of his body and I

regret every word I said.

Why did I have to break it? Why couldn’t I just enjoy it, for a little while more, at least?

“You wear outfits a seventy-year-old cat lady would admire.”

I squeak, so lost in my thoughts I completely miss him coming back. Hands braced on the back of

his chair, he’s scowling at me, itching for a fight. I’ve never really been a fighter, so he’s going to be

disappointed. Another thing to add to the list.

“That’s a fair point,” I say, looking him straight in the eye. I’ve been picked at and picked on by

masters, so nothing he can say will truly get a rise out of me. I’m sure of that.