Face-Blind, I Mistook My Boss for My Makeout Buddy - Chapter 4

Ours was a foreign company, so we used English frequently in our day-to-day work.

Most colleagues also addressed each other by their English names.

I’d been working there for almost a month, and I still didn’t know the Chinese name of Selina, who sat across from me.

By contrast, my halting, tongue-tied English stuck out painfully among them.

I had passed IELTS, to be fair.

Barely.

I’d memorized templates for the speaking test and scraped across the line.

But a real workplace was nothing like an IELTS exam room.

After several English-only presentation meetings, my colleagues’ eyes acquired the crystal clarity of people who finally understood exactly what they were dealing with.

For a while, it made me seriously question how I had passed my interview in the first place.

It troubled me deeply.

More troubling still, I had no idea how the matter reached Adrian.

That afternoon, I had just been tortured through another all-English meeting and felt as if my soul had been sucked out.

My phone suddenly buzzed.

Adrian had sent a message.

Did you understand the meeting?

I stared at the screen in silence for three seconds, then replied: Of course.

A moment later, he wrote back:

Really? Then why did I hear you mistook “catalogue” for “cat and dog” and asked whether the company had a pet-related business line?

My vision went black. Then blacker.

Let the world end.

I collapsed over my desk, utterly devoid of hope.

Could you forget that ever happened? Please.

Adrian replied: That might be difficult.

A few seconds later, he sent another message.

I happen to be free after work lately. If you’re willing to pay tuition, I can give you private lessons from now on.

I sat bolt upright.

Who said bad English was a curse?

My English had chosen the perfect moment to be terrible!

After work, people gradually left the office.

I carried my notebook to a small conference room.

Adrian was already inside.

He sat at the table, one button undone at the collar of his white shirt, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he reviewed the English copy I had sent him.

Outside the windows, the sky had darkened. Only one light was on in the conference room.

I sat down beside him and caught the pleasant scent of mint.

At once, I regretted not wearing perfume that day.

He handed the copy back and asked me to read a passage aloud.

I stumbled through it. He didn’t interrupt, only turned his head and watched me quietly.

Behind the reflected light on his lenses, his eyes were clear and gentle.

When I finished, he lowered his gaze to the pages again. “Your biggest problem isn’t vocabulary. It’s pronunciation.”

I nodded. “I think so too.”

He glanced at me. “Especially your *r* and *l* sounds.”

I nodded harder. “I think so too.”

“Then say *world*.”

“Word.”

He fell silent.

So did I.

He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Tang Zhizhi.”

Guiltily, I answered, “Present.”

“Are you sure you passed the IELTS speaking test?”

After receiving my firm confirmation, he closed the copy at an unhurried pace and looked up at me.

“Then IELTS examiners must be a remarkably tolerant bunch.”

Me: “…”

There was no need to be quite that cutting.

“But why did you decide to take IELTS?”

“I want to study abroad. I applied for a master’s in design at UAL. One of the main reasons I joined this company was to try working in an English-only environment and get used to it beforehand.”

Adrian’s hands paused.

He looked up at me, his gaze quieter than before.

“The UK?”

I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“It’s a very good school,” he said. “And design suits you.”

I froze for a moment.

For some reason, that casual affirmation from him made me happier than an interviewer praising my portfolio.

I sighed. “But now I don’t think I’m at that level yet.”

“That’s not true.”

Adrian placed the copy in front of me again, his voice even.

“You simply aren’t used to a real language environment yet. You can improve gradually.”

The tension in my chest eased.

I had just begun to feel moved when he added at the same measured pace,

“Provided you don’t keep pronouncing *world* as *word*.”

Me: “…”

A faint smile appeared in his eyes as he watched me.

He shifted his chair a little closer.

“Watch the shape of my mouth.”

I looked up at him.

“World,” he said.

I repeated, “Word.”

Helpless, he said, “Not like that. Draw your tongue a little farther back.”

I tried. “Word.”

Adrian studied me for two seconds.

Then he suddenly reached out, the tips of his fingers gently supporting my chin.

My entire body went rigid.

His fingertips were warm, his touch very light, as though he were afraid of startling me.

“Don’t press your lips together so tightly,” he said in a low voice. “Relax.”

My mind began to buzz, and my ears turned hot.

I stared at his lips, completely forgetting I was in the middle of a lesson.

Adrian seemed to notice. His voice dropped a little lower.

“Don’t be nervous. I don’t eat people.”

He might not. Me, though? No promises.

We were close enough for me to see the sharp line of his collarbone beneath his open shirt collar.

His gold-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. The eyes behind them were cool and restrained, but his lips looked soft.

A thin layer of lamplight fell over his Cupid’s bow.

“World.”

His pronunciation was crisp.

The moist tip of his tongue touched lightly, then withdrew at once.

It lasted only an instant.

I suddenly felt unbearably hot.

Was the air-conditioning broken?

Adrian waited several seconds. When I didn’t repeat after him, he looked up at me.

“Tang Zhizhi.”

I snapped back to myself. “Huh?”

“Where are you looking?”

Without thinking, I answered, “At your mouth.”

He lowered his gaze to me. A low, husky laugh rolled from his throat, breath-light. “Does it look good?”

As he said it, his fingers still supported my chin. He had not let go.

Brilliant blue light reflected in his lenses. His eyes were deep and dark.

That pleasant scent rolled over me all at once.

One inch closer, and I would feel his breath.

I swallowed.

“Adrian.”

“Mm?”

“Has anyone ever told you your mouth looks extremely kissable?”

The room fell silent.

Adrian lowered his eyes.

His gaze traveled slowly from my eyes to my lips.

His Adam’s apple moved. When he spoke, his voice sounded slightly hoarse. “No.”

I had just begun regretting my bluntness when he asked,

“Do you want a taste?”