If We Ever Meet Again

by Ana Huang

  It’d been the most boring seventy-five minutes of Farrah’s life, but at least there’d been plenty of eye candy, none of whom were dishier than the Texan standing in front of her.

  Six feet two inches of tanned skin and chiseled muscle, topped with golden hair, glacial blue eyes, and cheekbones that could cut ice. He wasn’t Farrah’s type, but she had to admit the boy was fire. Blake looked the way she’d pictured Apollo looking when she learned about Greek mythology in seventh grade.

  “Well, you’re really hard.” The words slipped out before Farrah could catch them.

  I did not just say that out loud.

  The flush traveled from her face to the rest of her body. No matter how hard she prayed, the floor didn’t open up and swallow her whole, that bastard.

  Blake’s other eyebrow shot up.

  “I mean, your chest is really hard. Nothing else. Although I’m sure it could be hard if it wanted to.”

  Kill me.

  The hint of amusement blossomed into a full-fledged grin, revealing twin dimples that should be classified as lethal weapons.

  “It sure can,” Blake drawled. “Especially when I’m around someone as beautiful as you.”

  Farrah’s mortification screeched to a halt. “Oh, please. Do they actually work for you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your cheesy pickup lines. Do they actually work for you?”

  “I’ve never had any complaints. Besides, look at me.” Blake gestured at himself. “I don’t need pickup lines.”

  “Wow.” Farrah shook her head. Typical jock. “It must be difficult walking around with such a big head.”

  “Babe, that’s not the only part of me that’s big.”

  Farrah couldn’t help it; her eyes dropped to the region below Blake’s belt. An image of what hid behind the denim flashed through her mind’s eye. Her mouth went dry.

  “I’m talking about my chest, of course.” Blake shook with laughter.

  Farrah’s gaze snapped up to his face. “I knew that.” The mortification crept back up her neck.

  “Sure. Since you’ve already undressed me with your eyes, we should—”

  “I did not undress you—”

  “Properly introduce ourselves.” He held out his hand. “I’m Blake.”

  She knew who he was, and they both knew it. Farrah played along because 1) her mother raised her to be a polite human being; and 2) while she knew his name, there was every chance he didn’t know hers. They’d met briefly at orientation dinner the first night but there were seventy students in FEA. Farrah herself couldn’t remember the names of half the people she met. “I’m Farrah.”

  She slid the handle of her plastic bag onto her other wrist so she could grasp his hand. His palms were warm and rough against hers. When they made contact, a tiny, unexpected shock sizzled through her veins.

  “Farrah from California.”

  She couldn’t have been more surprised if he started reciting The Iliad in ancient Greek. “You remember.”

  “How could I forget?” Blake’s gaze swept over her face and lingered on her mouth.

  Farrah’s heart rate kicked up a notch. He was the opposite of her ideal romantic hero—tall, dark, and handsome, with a side of sensitive, cultured, and well-read—but there was no denying Blake’s sex appeal. It dripped from him like honey from a hive.

  “So we didn’t need to introduce ourselves.”

  “No.” He stepped closer without releasing her hand. “But I wanted an excuse to touch you.”

  No, Blake wasn’t her type, but any girl in the world would melt under the heat of his gaze. Farrah hated to admit it, but she was no exception.

  She’d be damned if she showed it, though.

  While she struggled to come up with a witty rejoinder, Blake lowered his head to whisper in her ear. “Still think my pickup lines are cheesy?”

  Farrah yanked her hand out of his and ignored his laughter. The deep, velvety sound rolled through the empty stairwell, filling it with its richness.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. “You’re not as hot as you think you are.” Lies. “There are plenty of guys as good-looking as you.”

  “Aha! So you think I’m good-looking.”

  Dammit. “Only from a physical point of view.”

  “Er, that’s what good-looking means.”

  “I have more important things to do than stand here and argue with you. So if—”

  “Like read depressing-ass novels?” Blake nodded at the bag in her hands. The cover of The Notebook showed clear as day through the thin red plastic.

  “I don’t expect you to understand, but this is a great love story,” Farrah huffed.

  “Hey, whatever floats your boat. I don’t have anything against love stories. Plus, if you’re looking for something to do besides argue with me, I have a few ideas.” Suggestiveness dripped from his voice. “You, me, my room. A great love story.”

  Farrah snorted. “Not even in your dreams. You’re not my type.”

  “I’m everyone’s type.”

  Farrah didn’t bother to dignify his arrogance with a response. She brushed past him and stalked up the stairs. “I hope you and your ego have a good night,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  “My ego and I always have a good night. By the way,” Blake called after her. “I hate seeing you go, but I love watching you leave.”

  Farrah pressed her lips together, struggling not to smile at his intentionally clichéd line.

  Blake Ryan may have a better sense of humor than she expected, but he wasn’t leading man material.

  Not for her.

  Not even close.

  Chapter Two

  Blake was still grinning when he stepped into his room and switched on the lights. The expression on Farrah’s face when he asked if she thought his pickup lines were cheesy?

  Priceless.

  She was in FEA, which meant she was off-limits. That didn’t mean he couldn’t flirt with her.

  He had to keep life interesting somehow.

  Blake tossed his keys onto his desk and surveyed his tiny kingdom. Technically, it was his and Luke’s tiny kingdom, at least until orientation week ended and Luke moved into his homestay.

  But Luke wasn’t here, which meant Blake had all 150 square feet to himself.

  Compared to his off-campus spread at Texas Southeastern, this place was a dump. The dark wood floors creaked. The cinderblock walls resembled those in a jail cell. The twin beds may as well be made for ten-year-olds. But the FEA dorm had one thing his TSU apartment didn’t: freedom.

  For that luxury, Blake would give up all the plasma TVs and king-size beds in the world.

  He flopped down on his bed and closed his eyes, luxuriating in the silence. No stares. No whispers. Nothing but the quiet peace of a small room in a big city halfway across the world from home. For the first time since February, he felt as though he could breathe.

  The musical tones of Blake’s custom phone alarm interrupted his bliss. Cleo had downloaded it when they started dating last summer. He woke up before dawn every day for football conditioning camp, and she hated the sound of the default alarm at 4:30 am.

  He should change it back.

  Blake cracked one eye open. It was 7:30 pm, which meant it was 6:30 in the morning in Austin. Time to call home.

  He rolled over onto his stomach and flipped open his laptop. He stared at the Skype icon, thinking of excuses why he needed to cut the conversation short, before hitting the call button.

  To his relief, Joy was the one who answered his call.

  “About time, loser.” Joy popped a potato chip in her mouth. “You’re late.”

  “Remind me again, was it you who wrote How to Win Friends and Influence People?” Blake tapped a finger on his chin. “Oh, wait. In order for you to do that you’d have to, you know, be literate. My bad.”

  “Ha. Looks like Shanghai hasn’t improved your terrible sense of humor.” Joy c
ocked her head. “You look terrible. Is that a pimple I see on your chin?”

  No way. He didn’t get pimples.

  Nevertheless, Blake rubbed a hand over his jaw to check for unwanted intruders. Nothing except for the scratch of his five o’clock shadow. “Bullshit.”

  “Yes, but I made you worry.” Joy cackled. “You are so vain.”

  “I’ll hang up on you right now.”

  “Do it.”

  “I will.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  They glared at each other.

  Joy caved first. She grinned. “I miss you, big bro.”

  “I miss you too.” Blake’s sister was a pain in the ass, but she was also one of his best friends and he loved her. Most of the time.

  Some of the time.

  “How’s Shanghai?”

  “Great, for the most part. A bit noisy and polluted, but…” Blake shrugged. “You can’t have it all.”

  He was happy to be in Shanghai—to be anywhere except Texas, really—but, truth be told, he found China strange and overwhelming. The food was weird, people stared at him wherever he went, and there was a lot of everything everywhere, all the time.

  Noise. Lights. Cars. For a boy who grew up in the quiet suburbs of Texas, Blake felt like someone plucked him out of a fishbowl and dropped him in the middle of a highway during rush hour.

  Not that he’d ever tell his family that. They gave him enough shit about his decisions as it was.

  Besides, he arrived less than a week ago. He had plenty of time to get acclimated to Asia.

  “You ready for TSU?” he asked.

  “Of course. I’ve been preparing all summer. Besides, I’ve visited you on campus enough to know what it’s like.” After a stint at the local community college, Joy was transferring to TSU for her sophomore year. “Cleo’s been amazing. She gave me the lowdown on everything I need to know. Which classes I should take, bars I should go to, boys I should meet.”

  Wariness settled in Blake’s stomach. “I didn’t realize you two were spending so much time together.”

  “Um, she’s practically my sister.” Joy gave him a pointed look. “She’d be my actual sister—well, sister-in-law—one day if you hadn’t fucked things up.”

  Here we go again. “Don’t start.”

  “I’m not starting anything.”

  “Good.”

  "All I’m saying is, Cleo is the best girlfriend you could’ve asked for—”

  Blake groaned. “For God’s sake, we’ve been through this.”

  “—and you broke up with her.” Joy shook her head. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking it’s my love life and none of your business.” This was one of those times Blake did not love his sister. She’d been on his case about Cleo all summer. He thought she’d be over it by now.

  Apparently not.

  “Mom and Dad are pissed.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Between quitting football and breaking up with Cleo, Blake hadn’t exactly endeared himself to his parents this year.

  “Joy? Is that your brother on the line?”

  Joy smirked. “Speak of the devil.”

  “Who are you calling the devil?” Blake’s mom scolded playfully. She poked her face in front of the screen. “Hi, dear.”

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Are you eating enough? You look skinnier.”

  Joy snickered. “That’s my cue. I’ll let you talk to Mom.” She stood up. “Don’t be a stranger, danger.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Whatever. Byeee!”

  Blake’s mom wasted no time getting down to business. “How’s the food in China? Is that why you’re not eating? Oh Blake, you should’ve studied abroad in Europe.”

  “I have been eating, and the food is fine.” It took some getting used to, was all. Turned out General Tso’s chicken was not a thing here, as Blake discovered when he tried to order it last night. “Don’t worry.”

  Helen Ryan pinned her son with a glare. “I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry, especially when you’re spending a year in some strange country across the world.”

  “Technically, any country except the U.S. is ‘strange,’” Blake quipped. He was the first in his family to travel outside the U.S. and Western Europe, so he understood their concern, but they acted like he was studying in a war zone instead of a major international city.

  “You know what I mean.” Helen twisted her bracelet around her wrist. “I’m sure the people are lovely, but couldn’t you have gone somewhere more…familiar? London, for example. They speak English there. It might not be too late to switch programs for the spring.”

  “Going somewhere unfamiliar is the point.” Not to mention Shanghai was way farther from home than London. “Besides, Chinese is a useful language to learn.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Helen sighed. “I’m worried about you, Blake. You’ve been acting strange all year.”

  “I have a few things I need to figure out.” Like what the hell he was going to do with his life now that football was out of the picture. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  “All right.” His mom didn’t appear convinced, but she dropped the issue. “Do you want to talk to your father? He’s around here somewhere.” She turned toward the living room. “Joe!”

  “No!” Blake cleared his throat. “I mean, another time. I have an orientation thing soon.”

  “This late at night?”

  “Uh, yeah. We’re going to a…night market,” Blake fudged.

  “Oh, ok.” Helen looked disappointed. “Have fun. I’ll talk to you soon. I love you.”

  “I love you too, mom.”

  Blake signed off. That was a close call. He didn’t need to speak with his father when Joe Ryan’s voice already echoed in his head like a bad dream.

  Are you STUPID? Did you get hit too hard in the head during the game...Can’t quit football, it’s the only thing you’re good at…Quitters are losers…

  A dull ache blossomed behind Blake’s temple. The mere thought of his father drove him crazy.

  A loud slam caused him to jump. Blake thought the sound was an alarming escalation of his headache until he saw his roommate in the doorway.

  “Sorry.” Luke Peterson grimaced. Standing at 6’2” and north of 250 pounds, he looked every inch the rugby player he was. “Had a few too many drinks.”

  “It’s cool.” Blake eyed his roommate’s flushed face and short brown hair, which stuck up all over the place. “Where did you have drinks? A wind tunnel?”

  “Har-har.” Luke smoothed a self-conscious hand over his hair. “I was pregaming the pregame in Courtney’s room. They’re at Gino’s now, but I forgot my wallet.”

  Gino’s, a dive bar near campus, was fast becoming FEA’s favorite pregame spot. The food was crappy, but the drinks were cheap, which was all a college student could ask for.

  Blake didn’t care about the food or drinks, really. He went to bars for the energy and solidarity. There, strangers could bond over the simplest things, from mutual love for a song to a goal scored by their favorite team on TV. Everyone was welcome, regardless of whether they were there to hang out, hook up, or drown their sorrows.

  “Perfect timing.” Blake stood up and pulled his sweatshirt over his head. It got crazy hot in Gino’s. “I was about to head over there myself.”

  Forget his father. He wasn’t going to let the old man ruin his time in Shanghai.

  The great thing about being more than 7,000 miles from home? You can do whatever the hell you want.

  Chapter Three

  “We have to decide.” Olivia Tang fished a pen out of her purse and scribbled on a cocktail napkin. “I’ll make pro/con lists. The holiday is coming up, and if we don’t book soon, everything will be full.”

  “The holiday is in more than a month,” Sammy Yu pointed out. “We have time.”

  “This is China. Do you know how many people will be traveling t
hen? A lot,” Olivia said before anyone could answer. “I’d prefer to get our ducks in a row before we’re stuck camping in the woods instead of sunbathing on a beach.”

  “Camping sounds good to me,” Sammy said. Olivia frowned. “Or we could go sunbathing. Sunbathing sounds good too.”

  Farrah, Courtney Taylor, and Kris Carrera exchanged amused glances. Despite Olivia’s denials, it was obvious Sammy had a thing for her. Farrah didn’t know why Olivia bothered denying it. Sammy was good-looking, sweet, funny, and a math major at Harvey Mudd, one of the most elite liberal arts colleges in the country. He was every girl’s (and every Asian mother’s) dream.

  “No need for pro/con lists when we can just vote.” Courtney placed her hand on Olivia’s cocktail napkin, forcing the other girl to stop writing.

  “I enjoy making lists.”

  “I know, sweetie, but we’re at a bar.” Courtney swept her arm around Gino’s. “Let’s knock this out so we can enjoy it. Show of hands if you want to go to Thailand.”

  Farrah, Sammy, and Leo Agnelli raised their hands. After a longing look at her lists, Olivia raised her hand too.

  “Japan?”

  Kris.

  “Philippines?”

  Courtney and Nardo Crescas.

  Nardo looked at Kris. “You don’t want to go to the Philippines? Your family is from there.”

  “Exactly. I go every year.” Kris yawned. “No, thanks.”

  “Luke mentioned earlier he wants to go to the Philippines too, so we’ll chalk that up to three. Either way, Thailand wins. We’ll book our tickets tomorrow.” Courtney clapped. “Yay! Now let’s do something fun to celebrate.”

  “Wait. We haven’t decided where in Thailand we want to go,” Olivia protested.

  “Liv.” Farrah wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”