Page 2 of Her Inconvenient Wedding Date (Unexpected Dates #2)

Hunter

“I’m trying to become a superhero, but I can’t figure out which one… Superman or Yourman.” ~Unknown

I may not be the coolest guy on planet earth, or even in Silicon Valley, but when Lily Lam looks my way, I stand a bit straighter.

When I’m around her, I don’t mind being compared to the Jolly Green Giant, that memorable mascot who sounds like Santa but resembles Shrek.

But even though I’m nearly as tall as a giant and have been since my junior year of high school, I don’t have the legs to pull off that leafy caveman outfit he wears.

Nope, I prefer to live in jeans and a T-shirt and let beautiful people like Lily have the spotlight.

Because her legs look amazing in just about anything.

“There’s something different about you today, Hunter.” Lily eyes me cautiously, giving me a thorough onceover from my mop of chestnut brown hair all the way down to my black Vans. “I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.”

Frowning, she taps her pink-polished index finger against her lower lip and makes a humming sound that’s sweet and soothing to my soul.

Everything about Lily is like a perfect line of code, which some programmers argue doesn’t exist, but I beg to differ.

When you’ve experienced perfection, your brain instantly recognizes it.

Like the vibrant colors of a sunset or the harmonic tones of a major 9th chord, Lily is just as magical.

I’m pretty sure I know how Adam felt when God brought Eve to him for the first time.

Lily’s the only woman who has ever rendered me speechless with a smile.

From the moment I met her on my first day of work here a year ago, I was a goner.

Literally. My thoughts vanished and I couldn’t speak for a good five seconds.

I remember standing there with my mouth open like a fish out of water gasping for breath.

It wasn’t until one of our colleagues walking by stuck a bagel in my mouth did I get my jaw moving again.

Fortunately, I’ve learned to always carry one with me when I’m near Lily, so I don’t get caught in that situation again.

Day-old bagels with their drier and tougher texture are the most effective since they require more chewing.

And more chewing means I’ll at least have a legitimate reason for not talking when my mind goes blank in her presence.

I swallow the last bite of the blueberry bagel in my hand, finally ready to speak now that my operating system (aka brain) has rebooted itself. “You noticed? I didn’t think you paid that much attention to me,” I add with a smirk that makes her eyes roll.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Hunter. I happen to have an eye for detail. It’s not like I keep track of what you wear every day or how you style your hair.” She cocks her head to one side and asks, “Is it your hair? Did you get it cut?”

“Nope, it’s not my hair.” I take a few steps toward her desk, enjoying every second that she has her gaze on me.

This has to be the longest that she’s ever looked my way, at least with genuine interest and not her usual displeasure.

Not that Lily’s ever mean, but her right brow always twitches when she’s bothered, which seems to happen often when I come by to chat.

It’s not my intention to annoy her though.

My sole reason for coming to work each day, other than to write awesome code and earn a paycheck, is to be relevant in Lily’s world.

Out of all the guys she works with, I want to be the one who stays on her mind.

Leave an impression, beat out the competition, and win her heart—that’s basically my three-step game plan.

As for my progress, let’s just say I’m still working on step one.

Whether the impression is good or bad is yet to be determined.

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet,” I tease her. “Any other guesses?”

“Sh! Don’t rush me.” Her eyes brighten as she exclaims, “It’s your shirt. It’s a shade darker than you usually wear. I’m right, aren’t I?”

I chuckle and shake my head. My wardrobe is as neutral and simple as Lily’s is colorful and stylish. “Good guess, but this is the same gray as all my other shirts. Try again.”

Making myself at home on the edge of her desk, I do my own onceover and take in her beauty.

Her hair is wavy today—my favorite look on her—and she has on a no-makeup makeup look that surprisingly takes the same length of time to do as a with-makeup makeup look.

Go figure, right? She’s wearing an essential black tee and a pink wraparound skirt with a ruffle hem.

I give myself a virtual pat on the back for knowing all the right terms. Before Lily, I never paid attention to fashion, and I had no idea a difference existed between boyfriend jeans and jeans worn by boyfriends.

But after watching her beauty and style videos for the past year, I’ve come to appreciate her knowledge and expertise as a part-time social media influencer.

Thanks to her and the powers of snail mucin, my skin has never looked better.

But that’s not what’s different about me today.

“Need a hint?” I ask, not bothering to hide my smug smile.

It’s rare for Lily to be at a loss for words, and even rarer for me to be the reason why.

If only I could take her breath away with my dashing good looks or charming personality, like the guys in those romance books she has hidden behind her monitors.

Alas, the only sighs I seem to elicit are ones of exasperation.

She throws up her hands and shrugs. “I give up! What is it? What did you do differently today?”

I touch the index finger and thumb of each of my hands together, then place the makeshift circles over my eyes.

As soon as I do this, Lily’s jaw drops. Her complexion pales, then pinkens like she’s a chameleon trying to blend in with her cubicle decor.

She stares at me, unblinking and unspeaking for a long time.

So long that I’m tempted to take out the bagel from my back pocket and offer it to her.

I wave my hand in front of her face and wonder what her reaction means. “Lily? Are you okay?”

She snaps out of her trance and nods, her eyes still wide. “Y-yeah.”

I immediately notice how dilated her pupils are.

Great, I’ve shocked her so much with this new look of mine, she’s now under stress.

I don’t need further proof that I made a terrible mistake wearing contacts today.

With my hands raised, I begin backing out of her cubicle slowly.

“This was obviously a bad idea. I’ll go put my glasses back on?—”

“What? No!” she exclaims. Using her pointer finger, she makes an imaginary circle in front of my eyes. “Don’t do that. You look fine. I mean, more than fine. I just wasn’t expecting this whole Clark Kent-Superman switcheroo deal.”

My ears perk up as I sit back down. “Superman? You think I look like Superman? ”

“I did not say that. What I mean is that I didn’t think glasses, or the lack of glasses, would make such a big difference for you.”

“In a good or bad way? Feel free to elaborate,” I remark casually.

I’m not fishing for compliments—okay, maybe I am—but Lily’s the most fashionable person I know, so her opinion means a lot to me.

If you couldn’t tell by now, she means a lot to me.

“Do you think I look better with glasses or contacts?”

“Contacts,” she answers without hesitation. “Not that you look bad with glasses. I just never realized how blue your eyes are. You can see them better when you wear contacts.”

“Yeah? Good to know.” I file this piece of information away in the virtual RAM—that’s Random Access Memory—part of my brain.

My memory storage of all things Lily Lam has been growing the more I’ve gotten to know her.

Fortunately, she’s pretty much an open book and usually says whatever’s on her mind.

For some reason, though, she seems to be holding back today.

Her eye contact is off, making me wonder if she really likes this new look or if she’s just being nice.

In case it’s the latter, I try to play it off like I couldn’t care less.

“It’s not a big deal either way. I’m just trying them out to see if they’re comfortable.

Can you believe it took me 35 years to get my first pair of contacts?

I’ve always had this irrational fear that they’d get stuck to my eyeballs and I wouldn’t be able to take them out. ”

“Oh, that’s not irrational. It’s happened to me plenty of times when I accidentally fell asleep with them in.”

A chill travels down my spine. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Her phone suddenly vibrates, pulling her attention away. “Sorry, I need to check this text real quick.”

I grit my teeth as Lily leaves me on the brink of suspense—quite literally.

My fingers grip the edge of her desk where I’m sitting and trying my best not to fall off.

Her last statement keeps bouncing around in my head like the ball in a pinball machine, making all sorts of lights go off.

I force my eyes to dart from the left to the right, then up and down and all around.

By the time Lily sets her phone down, I’ve established a fast tempo like that of a classic rock song.

“Hunter?” she asks cautiously. “What are you doing?”

“I’m keeping my eyes moving so the contacts don’t have a chance of getting stuck.”

Her laughter fills the space between us. “You have a bit of Clark Kent in you even without the glasses. It’s good to know you’re still the same Hunter Payne inside.”

I pause my ocular aerobics to focus on her smile. “Did you just give me a compliment, Lil?”

She rolls her eyes again, something she does anytime I use the nickname I gave her. “You know it’s an oxymoron to call me little when I’m the size of a giant.”

“Not to me, you’re not.”

She suddenly gasps as she grabs her phone and starts typing. “I can’t believe I forgot to ask how tall he is! I don’t know if I can wear heels or not.”

My mood quickly tanks when I realize Lily’s talking about a guy. Could she possibly have a date?! “How tall who is?”

“The guy my sister set me up on a blind date with. I don’t mind if he’s shorter than me; I just don’t know if he minds me being so tall.

” She glances up, sighing. “You wouldn’t understand.

Women love guys who are tall, dark, and handsome.

But men? They all want cute and dainty girls who can practically fit in their pocket. That’s so not me.”

If my brain was a computer, the CPU—Central Processing Unit—would be working overtime trying to compute what I just heard come out of Lily’s mouth.

Did she infer that I’m the type of guy that women love?

I’d like to dwell on that possibility a little longer, but the frown on her face makes my hands clench.

I have a strong urge to take down any guy who’s ever made her believe she’s not adorable.

And by take down , I mean like in a chess match or something equally as nerdy.

“That’s not true at all,” I refute her claim.

“You are cute and dainty. There’s a reason I call you Lil. ”

Her expression softens, and for once she doesn’t seem exasperated. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, Hunter.”

“Sure thing.” Then I ask the most important question on my mind. “So, why are you going on this date? And where are you going, and who exactly are you going with?”

Yes, I know that’s three questions, but if I’m going to size up my competition, I need all the information I can get.