If We Ever Meet Again - Ana Huang Page 0,18

together, and he did love her, but he didn’t love her the way Hollywood said he should.

Hollywood romance was a load of crap.

Farrah crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m guessing you’ve never been in love.”

“I have.” What he and Cleo had was love, right? “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

She turned her head and stared out the window again. “I’m sorry. That’s really sad.” For once, her tone was devoid of sarcasm.

Blake followed her lead and gazed out the window closest to him. The view wasn’t nearly as nice on this side. It was all old apartment buildings and concrete and smog.

“I’ll survive.”

Chapter Seven

“Have a safe flight tomorrow.” Farrah’s mom’s voice crackled over the line. “Message me when you land.”

“I will.” Farrah stuffed another bikini into the crevice of her bulging suitcase. Six swimsuits for one week should be enough, right? “Do you want anything special from Thailand?”

“No. I’m trying minimalism,” Cheryl Lau decided. She’d kept her maiden name even after she married Farrah’s dad, which turned out to be a fortuitous choice, given how that relationship turned out. “I’m doing a big spring cleaning this weekend.”

“Mom, it’s October.”

“You know what I mean.” Farrah could practically hear her mom waving a dismissive hand in the air. “Anyway, I have to go. I’m going ballroom dancing tonight at Blue Coast.”

“Ok. Have fun. Talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later. Remember, message me!”

Farrah hung up and tossed the phone on the bed, where it landed with a thump next to Olivia.

“You and your mom are so cute.” Olivia sounded envious. “All my mom ever asks me is what my grades are and whether I’ve heard back from my internship yet.”

Farrah cocked her head. “When do you hear about your internship?”

“Four to six weeks.” Olivia jiggled her foot. “They review applications on a rolling basis.”

“You’ll get it.” Farrah squeezed in one last bikini—just to be safe—and flipped down the lid. “Help?”

Olivia hopped off Farrah’s bed and sat on the suitcase while Farrah struggled to zip it up.

“It’s one of the most prestigious internships in finance,” Olivia said. “CB Lippmann accepts ten interns every summer. Ten! Do you know how many people apply? Ten thousand. That’s a 0.001% acceptance rate.”

“I doubt ten thousand people apply every year.” Farrah tugged on the zipper, praying it won’t break. Sweat broke out on her forehead. Forget the gym. Packing was a whole workout unto itself.

“Fine, that may be an exaggeration, but there are at least a thousand applicants. That’s still an infinitesimal acceptance rate.”

“You are the smartest, most hardworking person I know. If you don’t get it, the game’s rigged.”

“Babe, this is Wall Street. Of course the game’s rigged.”

The zipper gave way without warning. The unexpected force knocked Farrah on her ass. “Shit!”

Olivia burst into laughter. She stood up and grabbed Farrah’s hand, hauling her off the floor.

“I was waiting for that to happen.”

“Thanks a lot.” Farrah pushed her carry-on into a standing position. Oof. “This is probably over the weight limit.”

Olivia nudged the case with her foot. It didn’t budge. “It’s definitely over the weight limit.”

“I hope the airline doesn’t check.” It was a risk, but Farrah sure as hell wasn’t going to repack. It was close to midnight, and their flight left at eight tomorrow morning.

“Speaking of summer internships, how’s your portfolio going? It’s due in January, right?”

Olivia reclaimed her seat on Farrah’s bed. Farrah had replaced the lumpy white comforter with a pretty pink one she found at a local market. Add pink, white, and gray velvet throw pillows, a framed sketch on the wall, and two tiny succulents on the nightstand, and the place looked a lot more inviting.

Her roommate Janice kept the original bedding and didn’t decorate at all. Looking at the two sides of their room was like looking at a before and after picture.

Farrah itched to do something about Janice’s bare walls, but a) Janice was never there for her to bring it up, and b) she didn’t want to overstep her boundaries.

She’ll have to make do with half a decorated room.

“Yeah. I’m making progress.” Farrah was close to completing her second design, a restaurant inspired by the stark, contemporary lines and splashes of bright color she’d seen at M50. She’ll need to tweak it, but at least she knew what she was doing. She had no idea what to do for the third design.

“Must be all the gallery hopping last weekend,” Olivia quipped. “Alone time is good for the soul.”

Farrah coughed. “Right. Alone time.”

She hadn’t told