If We Ever Meet Again - Ana Huang Page 0,59
the excitement of Shanghai. Farrah enjoyed the warm weather and catching up with her family and friends, but she missed FEA and Blake. “Have you seen Kris?”
“Not yet. You?”
“Not yet.” Farrah helped Olivia haul her luggage up the stairs. Her arms strained with the effort. FEA needs to invest in an elevator. “You think she’s ok?”
“She’s fine.” Olivia sounded unsure. “It’s Kris.”
The girls’ hall was a mess of noise and bags. The dulcet tones of the latest pop hit drifted from Flo and Janet’s room into the corridor. Charlotte tromped past, dragging a massive comforter behind her. All around, girls laughed and hugged and reminisced about their winter breaks, so excited they tripped over their words.
FEA was back.
Farrah unpacked Olivia’s toiletry bag while her friend tossed her clothing on her bed. “Where’s Sammy? I can’t wait to see him.” Farrah missed his infectious laugh and good-natured jokes. He was the closest to a brother she ever had.
“He just landed. He’ll be here soon.” Olivia’s eyes gleamed. She pointed her chin at something behind Farrah. “In the meantime, someone’s here to see you.”
Farrah spun around. She sensed who it was before her eyes confirmed her hunch.
“Hey, girls.” Blake flashed his devastating dimples. “Miss me?”
After six weeks of talking to him through a computer screen, Blake appeared larger than life. His lean, muscular body filled the doorframe. His pale blue shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and matched the color of his eyes—the same eyes that drank Farrah in like a man dying of thirst in the desert.
“Hey, Blake.” Olivia nudged Farrah, who remained stock-still while her heart melted faster than Italian gelato during the summer.
Olivia upgraded her nudge to a gentle shove. “It’s Blake,” she hissed.
That did the trick.
Farrah regained control of her limbs and flew across the room into his arms. Blake caught her, his grip sure and strong. She buried her face in his neck and breathed in his crisp, familiar scent. “I missed you,” she said, too overcome with emotion for banter. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.” His warm breath tickled her skin. His mouth crashed against hers, their tongues tangling while her fingers dug into his arms. He tasted of hunger and desire. Of longing. Of love. He kissed her like his life depended on it.
Farrah sank into Blake’s embrace. After weeks of waiting and wanting, this was better than she imagined. She raked her fingers through his hair, desperate to—
“Ahem.”
Desperate to get—
“Ahem!”
Blake and Farrah groaned in unison. They tore themselves apart and peered at Olivia, who had unpacked in record time and was now color-coordinating her closet.
“Get a room.” Olivia draped a strapless cobalt dress over a hanger. “Your own room.”
“Are you kicking us out?” Blake demanded.
“Yes. I love you guys, but I don’t want to watch you have sex.”
“Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”
Olivia gasped.
Farrah tried not to laugh. “Don’t be rude.”
“I’m not.” Blake’s grin was pure devilishness. “I was merely posing a hypothetical.”
“Out!” Olivia pointed at the door. “Farrah, dump this rascal.”
“She would never.”
“If she had to choose between you and me, who do you think she’d choose?”
Blake looked at Farrah, who shrugged. He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m out, I’m out. I can tell when I’m not wanted.”
“I always want you.” Farrah entwined her arms around his neck. She could float off the ground, she was so happy.
Blake’s eyes darkened to sapphires. “Keep going.”
“Ugh.” Olivia hung her blue jumpsuit next to her blue dress. “Disgusting.”
“Sounds like someone needs a visit from Sammy.”
This time Farrah couldn’t hold back her laughter. She dragged Blake into the hall and closed the door before Olivia hurled a shoe at his head.
“Don’t provoke her! You came this close to getting impaled by a stiletto.”
“Nah. I have good reflexes. It’s one of my many talents.”
“New year, same Blake.”
“You can’t improve perfection.” This time, Blake was the one who pulled her down the hall.
“Your room is the other way.”
“Let’s go to your room. Janice isn’t back yet, is she?”
“Nope.” Janice was never in the dorm.
Farrah opened her door and flipped on the lights. It was clear which side was hers and which was Janice’s. Janice’s half of the space was standard dorm fare—no decorations, no personal touches except for a Billie Eilish poster above her bed.
Meanwhile, Farrah treated her space as a mini interior design project, albeit one on an extreme budget. She’d replaced FEA’s scratchy white sheets with a cute gray-and-white polka dot set she found at a local market. It wasn’t her favorite