If We Ever Meet Again - Ana Huang Page 0,63

You’re one of my oldest friends. But we never worked as a couple. We both know that.”

Cleo’s cheeks paled. Her eyes swirled with a mix of sadness, resignation, and—panic? No. That didn’t make sense.

“I know.” Her smile looked forced. “I don’t blame you. You’re a good person, Blake, and it was good while it lasted.”

Relief fizzled through him. “Yeah, it was.”

“Why don’t we start over? Put everything behind us and toast to our friendship.” Cleo waved down the bartender. “Two shots of tequila,” she ordered.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up. Cleo rarely drank, and she hated tequila.

Nevertheless, his relief outweighed his surprise. He could tell Cleo wasn’t 100% over their breakup, but at least she was willing to try. She could have her pick of guys. She’d eventually move on, which meant his family would have to move on.

A two-ton boulder eased off his shoulders.

“Here’s to friendship.” Cleo raised her shot glass.

“To friendship.” Blake clinked his glass against hers and knocked back the drink. He laughed at Cleo’s grimace. “We could’ve had something other than tequila.”

“It’s fine.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Let’s do another one. For old times’ sake.”

“Maybe we should pace ourselves.” His suggestion was as much for his own benefit as it was for Cleo’s. He should’ve eaten dinner before the party, but he lost track of time Skyping with Farrah. Now, his stomach turned at the thought of another shot.

Cleo clucked her tongue. “Shanghai has made you soft.”

Oh, hell no.

“Soft?” Blake narrowed his eyes. Yeah, his head was starting to spin, but his reputation was at stake here. “Soft, my ass.” He turned to the bartender. “Another round of shots. Make ‘em double.”

The lion dance ended to enthusiastic applause from the crowd.

“That was cool.” Luke yawned. “Let’s get food. I’m hungry.”

“We literally ate like half an hour ago,” Kris snapped.

“We don’t have to get a full meal, just snacks,” Luke said in a conciliatory voice.

Blake expected the rest of the group to walk on eggshells around Kris, but Luke? That was a shocker.

They pushed their way through the crowd toward the vendors selling Spring Festival snacks such as steamed niangao cakes, glutinous rice dumplings wrapped in bamboo leaves, and various sweets.

Blake followed Farrah through the crowds, too lost in his thoughts to navigate on his own.

Blake cracked his eyes open.

That was a mistake.

The sunlight pierced his retinas like lasers and intensified the pounding in his head. He slammed his eyes shut.

A raspy groan filled the room. It took him a minute to realize it came from him.

Where the hell was he? What day was it?

Blake tried to piece together the events of last night, but all he could remember was arriving at Landon’s party, drinking, arguing with Joy, drinking, talking to Cleo, drinking, and…that was it. He couldn’t remember the fireworks or what he did when the clock struck midnight.

Blake groaned again. He turned on his side so he faced away from the windows and tried opening his eyes again. Better. Sort of.

“I am never drinking alcohol again,” he muttered.

“That’s what you always say.”

Blake jerked his head up and looked over his shoulder. The bright light hit him in full force, but it was nothing compared to the dread that slammed into his body when his eyes confirmed what his brain knew.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Cleo stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Her damp hair fell past her shoulders in tight curls. A towel wrapped around her body, barely large enough to cover the necessary bits.

“What are you doing here?” Blake’s eyes adjusted to the light, and he realized he was in one of the Zinterhofers’ suites. They always set aside a few rooms for guests who were too intoxicated to drive home after one of their New Year’s parties.

“Showering, silly.” Cleo dropped her towel. He averted his gaze.

She laughed at his reaction. “Come on. It’s not anything you haven’t seen before.” He heard rather than saw her get dressed. “You can look now.

“What happened last night?” The pounding in his head intensified. Blake rubbed his temple. “We didn’t—did we—” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

There was a pause. “You don’t remember?”

If I did, I wouldn’t be asking you.

Blake bit his tongue. Hangovers made him moody as shit. “I don’t remember anything after our third—” Fourth? “—shot.”

Cleo blinked. Her eyes glowed bright green in the sunlight. A thousand emotions flickered over her face, too fast for him to discern a single one of them.

“We’re friends. Right?”

“Right.” Blake tried to