How Could I Possibly Be Inconspicuous Novels & Stories

“I don't know really.” “I’ll leave you to think about it while I go shower.” How do I approach her, if I'm at all going to make an appearance, I can't do it in the eye of the public and if I'm going to see her behind closed doors, how do I bypass security and all? I breathe in feeling like a prey in between two kills. I think showing up at her mother’s restaurant would be the best option. I just have to cross my hands and hope she shows up. I would need to disguise myself to go unnoticed.

Step Two was where things would get a little more difficult: Stay Inconspicuous. I was already close to the edge of the territory since Alpha Jackson had wanted me as far from his pack as he could risk. However, there were still a few miles I would have to track to break past the territory line, but if I stuck close to the trees and the wind was in my favour, I could make it out of there. Lifting my hood to hide my hair and face, I started with a casual walk towards the forest, not wanting to draw attention to myself. If I was caught, I could pretend I was going on a late-night walk to clear my head.

You needed to be very careful when navigating this world. I wore a black and white long sleeve flannel, black jeans, and a black hat. It was best to dress as inconspicuous as possible. Unless you wanted to attract attention you didn’t dress to impress. After braiding my long blonde hair, I was out the door. I was meeting someone not very far away from my apartment. Since I lived in such a crappy place, shady people weren’t very far away. The morning was sunny, but the crisp fall air greeted me and I was glad I wore a long-sleeved shirt. I walked with one hand in my purse, clutching my stun gun, and my head straight forward, knowing if I looked at someone wrong, I could start something I didn

He said once he was through. “Thank you. Now I know that I let you in, but I need you to stay as inconspicuous as possible, try not to draw too much attention.” That was near impossible, given his red hair, that freaking toothpick he had been chewing throughout the drive, and his need to look around like he was a secret agent. “Inconspicuous is my middle name.” he answered drily. “I’ll keep a reasonable amount of distance between us. But no more tricks, I don’t want to get fired on my first day for manhandling you.”

But there was no stipend for me so I still had to work to eat. I used to think being invisible was the safest thing in the world. At Lockwood, blending in kept you out of trouble. At school, it made the whispers fade. At work, it meant fewer questions. I’d become so used to folding myself into corners that when I finally stepped into a world that looked at me, I didn’t know how to look back.

But understanding something and being comfortable with it were two different things entirely. He dressed quickly and without ceremony—dark trousers, a plain shirt, the kind of clothes that allowed movement without announcing anything in particular. He had learned years ago that the most useful thing about his appearance was that it could be adjusted to read as almost anything depending on context. At Damien's side in a boardroom, he was the attentive personal assistant. At a social event, the quiet friend. And when he needed to follow someone across a city without being noticed, he could be practically invisible. Today he would need to be invisible.

“Pathetic. Totally.” I staggered upright. Tried to dust myself off. Hands bleeding a little. Knees fraying through the thin fabric of my uniform. Tried to disappear in plain sight. Not that anyone would care. Invisible Amara Kade. That’s me. Invisible. Training continued. Lines, steps, coiled muscles. Eyes sharp. I copied everything. Counted my movements. Tried not to be noticed. Tried to make myself small. Invisible. Maybe that was safer.

I woke up with a plan. It was not a complicated plan. It did not require equipment or significant preparation. It required only that I be a normal, functioning adult woman who was capable of making her interest in another person reasonably clear without embarrassing herself. I had done this before. I was sure I had done this before. At some point in my life, before France and before snowstorms and before men with composed faces and warm hands, I had successfully communicated romantic interest to another human being, and it had gone fine.

"He wants you to dress like a player, not a piece." I unzipped the bag. Inside was a gown. It was deep green, almost black in the shadows, with a high collar and long sleeves. The fabric was heavy—velvet, maybe, or something older and stranger. Silver embroidery traced patterns along the hem and cuffs. Thorns. Woven so tightly they looked like they might draw blood. There was a note pinned to the sleeve. You cannot hide in plain clothes. At the Conclave, invisibility is not a shield. It's an invitation. Dress like you belong, and they will wonder why. Dress like you're afraid, and they will know exactly where to strike. —K

It is the most unguarded sentence he has spoken in seventeen chapters and I hear it with the full attention it deserves. "I know," I say. "That is not a reason not to find out." He looks at me sideways on the pavement. "You make it sound uncomplicated." "It is not uncomplicated. It is just necessary." I pause. "I spent eleven months making myself invisible. Not because I wanted to be invisible but because I believed that was the only way to survive. The thing about survival strategies is that they work until they do not anymore. And then you have to find out who you are without them."