If We Ever Meet Again - Ana Huang Page 0,30

his breath, his heart pounding in triple time. She hesitated, and for a second he thought she was going to back out again. But she took the leap, and her scream echoed in the cold night air. He could pinpoint the moment the rebound happened because he heard another scream—fainter this time—and then…silence.

A grin spread across Blake’s face. Damn, she did it. She really did it.

A wave of pride flooded him.

“You’re up.” The operator beckoned to Blake.

After he passed the safety check, Blake took Farrah’s spot on the jumping platform and looked down. 764 feet was a long way to fall.

“Ready?” The operator and an assistant grasped the back of Blake’s harness.

He nodded.

They let go.

Blake pictured Farrah’s face. If she could do this, so could he.

Fuck it.

He was in Macau. He was on top of the world. It was now or never.

Blake closed his eyes and took the fall.

Chapter Thirteen

Farrah didn’t die. On the contrary, she’d never felt more alive.

She grabbed Kris’s hand and spun her around, her skin buzzing with energy. She couldn’t stop smiling. She was on top of the freakin’ world.

“Thank you for this!” she shouted over the music.

The idea Kris had during her retail therapy session turned out to be a humongous idea—an all-expenses paid trip to Macau for Courtney’s birthday weekend. The bungee jump packages alone cost $4,500 for the group. That wasn’t counting the flights, meals, drinks, suites at a five-star hotel, and various other activities. The total bill must run in the five figures.

Farrah couldn’t fathom any parent being ok with their kid dropping that much money in one weekend, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was too happy, too buzzed, too…everything.

“Any time. I love Macau!” Kris shouted back. Her eyes glowed with a mixture of triumph, defiance, and satisfaction. “And Daddy’s going to freak when he sees next month’s credit card bill. I can’t wait! He’ll finally understand how upset I am about Gloria.”

So the redhead had a name.

The music transitioned from the down-tempo, hypnotic beats of EDM to a sultrier club remix of the latest R&B hit. Farrah smiled when she saw Courtney and Leo making out in the corner. Guess her talk with him worked.

Courtney’s birthday fell a day before Halloween, and she insisted on wearing a costume-esque outfit. Her gold flapper dress glittered like a ray of sunlight in the dark nightclub.

Farrah’s gaze flitted around the club and landed on Blake, who was drinking with Luke at the bar. In the club’s dim reddish lighting, he looked like sin and temptation rolled into one. Blake turned his head to say something to Luke, and the move threw his profile into sharp relief—the sculpted cheekbones, the high straight nose, the strong jaw. How was it possible for someone’s face to be that perfect? It wasn’t fair.

Yet when Farrah looked at him, she didn’t think about how Blake resembled a Greek god. Ok, she thought about it a little, but all she could focus on was the way he’d held her at the top of the Macau Tower. The warmth that rolled through her when he offered to skip the jump with her. How he made her feel like she could conquer her biggest physical fear—and she had.

“You’ve got it bad.”

“What?” Farrah asked, distracted. Blake laughed at something Luke said. The butterflies in her stomach performed a somersault that would make Simone Biles proud.

“You have a crush on Blake,” Kris sang.

Farrah whipped around to face her friend. She flushed crimson. “I do not.”

“Please. I recognize that look. You totally want to jump Blake’s bones.”

“Shh!” Farrah glanced back at the bar. Blake remained deep in conversation with Luke. “Do you want everyone to hear you?”

“No one can hear shit. It’s loud in here.”

“He can hear you!” Farrah gestured at Nardo.

“Thanks for realizing I’m here,” he said sardonically. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. A girl liking Blake Ryan is hardly news. Guys like that always have a line of girls waiting to get with them.” Nardo sniffed. “It’s an uninspired choice, really.”

“Thank you for your unsolicited opinion.” Kris pushed Farrah toward the bar. “Ask him to dance.”

“I don’t think so.” So much for her earlier I-can-conquer-the-world high.

Farrah didn’t make the first move. Ever. The thought of rejection and the accompanying humiliation was too much to bear.

“Why not? You like him, don’t you?”

“That’s not the point. I can’t just go up there and ask him.”

“Honey, it’s the twenty-first century. Girls can make the first move.”

“What if he says no?”

“Then he’s an