If We Ever Meet Again - Ana Huang Page 0,61
knows what he’s doing, so we’re going halves on the bar.” Blake grinned. “Plus he’s a great friend.”
“That’s still incredible.” Farrah couldn’t contain her excitement. She witnessed firsthand how hard Blake worked these past few months. She’d read his business plan. She saw the way his eyes lit up when he talked about the bar. His venture was going to be a success. She was sure of it. “I’m so proud of you. Your family must be too.”
“I guess. My sister is. My mom’s coming around. My dad is skeptical. He thinks the only thing I’m good at is football.” Despite his casual tone, Farrah detected the hurt beneath his words.
Anger flashed through her. She’d never met Joe Ryan, but she was going to give that man a piece of her mind when she saw him. “Fuck your dad. He’s trying to sabotage your dreams before you even get them off the ground, and I am. Not. Here. For. It.”
Blake’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.”
“I’m serious!” She pounded the mattress with her fist. “Don’t let him do that to you.”
“I don’t want to complain too much.” Blake rubbed his thumb over her locket. “I know I’m lucky my dad is still around.”
Her anger melted away, replaced by an ache in her heart. God, she loved this boy. “If you’re worried about me, don’t be. My relationship with my father was different. I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to mend fences with your dad; he is still your dad. But do not let him discourage you. You’re capable of great things, Blake Ryan. Don’t forget that.”
Blake’s eyes darkened with emotion. “I don’t deserve you. You know that?” He pulled her in tight and rested his cheek on top of her head.
Farrah closed her eyes, soaking in the warm strength of his embrace. “I know.”
“I love you.” There was a strange undercurrent in his voice, a shakiness that was not like Blake.
Old Farrah would’ve latched onto that minute detail and overanalyzed the heck out of it, but New Farrah convinced herself it was her imagination.
FEA was in session again, the group was reunited, and she and Blake were back together. It was going to be an amazing semester, and she wasn’t going to waste it worrying about demons that didn’t exist.
“I love you too.”
Their lips met in a tender promise. Blake felt the same, smelled the same, and tasted the same—like rich, dark chocolate. Like sin and desire. Like the stars and dreams. He tasted like Blake.
Her Blake.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Blake felt like shit.
He woke up with cottonmouth and a granddaddy of a hangover. Gatorade and a carb-filled breakfast helped with the physical symptoms, but he still felt like shit, and it had nothing to do with drinking too much yesterday.
The urge to regurgitate that morning’s jianbing forced him to clamp his mouth shut until it passed, yet his stomach remained queasy.
“Whose bright idea was it to come here after last night?” Luke flinched when the steel drummers banged their instruments.
The sound pierced through Blake’s head like a drill through drywall.
“It’s the New Year, Luke! Cheer up.” Courtney swung Leo’s hand back and forth, giddy as a schoolgirl.
“New Year’s was weeks ago.”
“This is the Lunar New Year. Don’t be so American.”
Luke became grumpier. “I am American. A hungover American.”
“You’re free to go back to the dorm any time you want.”
He fell silent.
The group wandered through the crowded pathways of Yuyuan Garden. Everyone and their mother (and father and grandparents and siblings) were out in full force for the Garden’s annual Spring Lantern Festival.
Lanterns of various sizes, colors, and shapes hung from every imaginable perch—roofs, ceilings, doorways, balconies. Massive pig-themed installations served as an ode to the Year of the Pig and dazzled viewers with their sheer size and intricacy. There were activities for all kinds of attendees—lion and dragon dances for the entertainment-minded, lantern riddles for the intellectually oriented, and traditional New Year sweets for the culinary-obsessed.
Blake tightened his grip on Farrah’s hand. It was his rock, the only thing keeping him from collapsing into a puddle of regret on the ground.
God, I’m an asshole.
“How are you feeling?” Farrah sidestepped an adorable toddler who was staring up at one of the pig installations in awe. Her mouth curved into a small smile before she turned to Blake, and her brow wrinkled with concern. “We can go back to FEA if this is too much.”
“No, it’s New Year’s. Besides, you want to see the fireworks.”
“I’ve seen fireworks before.”
“Really, I’m