If We Ever Meet Again - Ana Huang Page 0,34
over the last word because he’d still tear that guy’s arm off if he had the chance.
The image of Farrah and Douchebag making out flashed through his mind. Blake’s jaw clenched.
He wasn’t sorry about tearing Douchebag away from her. He was sorry about the way he treated Farrah. He’d been hopped up on his own issues and jealousy and took them out on her.
Plus, that bit about loving her like a sister? Complete bullshit.
If Blake thought about Joy the way he thought about Farrah, he was in for some serious hell in the afterlife.
“Apology accepted.”
Silence fell.
Blake struggled to come up with the right words to say. Farrah walked beside him, yet she was so distant he expected her to slip through his fingers and fade into the air at any moment.
They passed through the next few watchtowers without a word. Slope after slope, one step after another.
After an hour, they stopped to rest. Farrah sank onto the ground. “You can go ahead,” she said. “You don’t have to stay with me.”
“I want to.”
Farrah slid a puzzled glance in his direction before turning to survey the landscape. Blake followed her gaze. It was a scene he’d seen multiple times in pictures, but nothing compared to the real thing. Not even close.
Rugged mountains encircled them like sentinels, draped in cloaks of silence. The ancient wall sighed as they stood on its back, following in the footsteps of the thousands who came before them. Nevertheless, it snaked through the rough terrain, endlessly and persistently, as it had for millennia.
The wall cut a striking figure amongst the explosion of red, orange, and green foliage before it disappeared into the low-hanging mist in the distance. Every so often a breeze swept by, carrying with it the whispers of history—the dynasties that rose and fell; the ghosts of emperors past and lives sacrificed; the faded screams of ancient warriors who’d fought on this very land.
Goosebumps erupted on Blake’s skin. He found it hard to wrap his mind around the fact that he was standing on thousands of years of history. He remembered visiting the Alamo as a kid and marveling at how old it was.
Compared to the Great Wall, the Alamo was a freakin’ fetus.
“He always wanted to come here.”
Blake sat next to Farrah. His feet sighed in relief. “Who?”
“My dad.”
“There’s still time. I have a feeling the wall will be here for a while,” Blake joked.
Farrah looked down. “He died four years ago.”
Ah, fuck. “I’m so sorry.” Blake felt like an ass. He couldn’t do anything right these days.
“It’s ok. You didn’t know.” Her smile wobbled and lasted five seconds before it fell.
It broke Blake’s heart. He was shit at comforting people. He never knew what to say, and tears made him more uncomfortable than a nun who stumbled into an orgy. If this were anyone else, Blake would’ve gotten the fuck outta there.
But this wasn’t anyone else. This was Farrah.
He placed a tentative arm around her shoulders. To his relief, she didn’t pull away.
“My dad spent most of his life in China and never saw its most famous landmark.” Farrah played with the pendant around her neck. “He used to tell me we’ll visit together. One day, he said, we’ll fly to Beijing and walk the entire wall, from one end to the other. It’ll be the greatest father-daughter hike ever taken. I was only seven at the time, but even I knew it was impossible to walk the entire wall. Still, I liked imagining it. It seemed like a great adventure.”
Her voice thickened with unshed tears.
Blake squeezed her tight, wishing he could do more to help.
Farrah sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Anyway, tell me about your dad. Are you guys close?”
Blake swallowed. He had to battle his instinct to avoid the question before he got his answer out. “We were. Once. A long time ago.”
When he was a kid, his dad would take him to the zoo and make funny faces imitating the animals until Blake howled with laughter. He took Blake fishing every two months and almost came to blows with Ted Crenshaw’s dad after Ted pushed Blake at recess and Blake skinned his knee.
Then Blake grew up and displayed a talent for football. His dad stopped being his dad and started being his coach. He never switched back.
“What happened?”
“We grew apart.” Blake played with the ends of Farrah’s hair. They slipped across his fingers like silk. “We have different ideas of how I should live