If We Ever Meet Again

by Ana Huang

  Olivia sighed. “Fine. But if we end up in a roach motel because everything else sells out, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I won’t.” Farrah didn’t care if they ended up sleeping in a car on the side of the road. All that mattered was she going to visit Thailand.

  Four days in FEA and the semester was already more interesting than her entire freshman year at California Coast University.

  Farrah’s stomach fluttered with excitement. Between the trips, the people, and all the inspo she was going to get for this year’s national student interior design competition, Shanghai was shaping up to be the best decision she’d ever made.

  Having a great group of friends helped. Farrah met Olivia at the airport while waiting for the FEA shuttle to campus. Olivia struck up a friendship with Kris and Courtney, who introduced them to the boys (Courtney collected friends the way Mardi Gras partygoers collect beads), and the rest was history.

  “Speaking of Luke, where is he?” Leo looked around for their missing friend. “He went to get his wallet ages ago.”

  Farrah tried to ignore the second, more worrying flutter in her stomach, the one that happened every time Leo spoke. And every time she looked at him. Or thought about him.

  Unlike Blake, Leo was one hundred percent her type. Finally, a boy who made her heart jump when he entered the room! A boy with curly dark hair and a knowing smile, who spoke five languages and could quote classic authors at the drop of a hat.

  Too bad said boy was taken.

  “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” Courtney snuggled into Leo’s side.

  You can say a lot of things about Courtney, but you can’t say she didn’t move fast. Farrah didn’t even get a chance to introduce herself the first night before Leo and Courtney started making out in the corner of 808.

  They weren’t dating, per se, but they were hooking up with each other exclusively. In college, that was basically the same as dating.

  Farrah sipped her drink and scanned the bar to avoid looking at the couple. Gino’s was like an American college bar on steroids. Throngs of students, local and international, crowded around tables heaped high with burgers, fries, and alcohol. The latest Top 40 hits from the States blasted through ceiling-mounted speakers, muffling the cheers from the two beer pong tables in the back. Graffiti from past patrons covered every wall and crept onto the ceiling.

  Farrah zeroed in on the messages closest to their table. Be nice to your cab driver, someone advised in black marker, or they’ll leave you in the middle of nowhere. Above that was a random phone number, and above that, a simple hashtag: #ballsballsballs.

  Gotta love bar graffiti.

  Olivia leaned toward Farrah. “You ok?” she whispered. She was the only one who knew about Farrah’s crush.

  “Yes,” Farrah lied. Courtney was her friend, Leo was Courtney’s (sort of), and that was that. Besides, Farrah wasn’t a stranger to unrequited love. She had a habit of falling for guys she couldn’t have, even when she didn’t know they were taken yet. “I’m over it.”

  Olivia appeared unconvinced.

  “What are you talking about?” Sammy poked his head over Olivia’s shoulder. “Tell me.”

  “The mind-your-business gene.” Olivia smiled despite her words. It was hard not to smile around Sammy.

  “C’mon, I won’t tell. I can keep a secret.” Sammy wiggled his eyebrows. “Is it something naughty?”

  “You wish.” Farrah threw a fry at him. “Is sex the only thing guys think about?”

  “No. Sometimes we think about food.” Sammy caught the fry and tossed it in his mouth.

  Olivia jabbed her elbow into his side. He tickled her in response, causing her to squeal and nearly fall off the bench from laughter.

  Farrah hid her grin behind her glass.

  “Oh, look. There’s the Uncouth One himself, bearing gifts.” Kris raised her eyebrows. “Including one Blake Ryan. How thoughtful.”

  Farrah’s head whipped around.

  Luke bore down on them with a fishbowl cocktail in each hand and Blake in tow.

  “Talking shit again, Kris?” Luke set the drinks on the table.

  “You couldn’t possibly have heard me over the noise.”

  “I didn’t need to. You’re always talking shit.”

  Courtney laughed. “He has a point.”

  “Whose side are you on?” Kris harrumphed.

  “Yours, of course.” Courtney patted Kris’s hand. “You are my sorority sister.”

  Besides Sammy and Nardo, who were best friends and classmates at Harvey Mudd, Kris and Courtney were the only ones in FEA who’d known each other before the program started.

  “Twice in one night.” Blake winked at Farrah. “I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me.”

  “I was here first.”

  “That’s what they all say.” Blake handed Farrah a bottle of beer. “Drink?”

  “I don’t like beer.”

  “C’mon, live a little. Get outside your comfort zone.”

  “Drinking beer is hardly living.” Nevertheless, Farrah swiped the Tsingtao from him. His hand brushed hers, and another electric current sizzled over her skin.

  She popped open the cap and took a swig, grimacing at the taste.

  Blake laughed at her expression. “You really don’t like beer.”

  “It tastes like urine.”

  “How do you know what urine tastes like?”

  Farrah took another swig. “I can’t talk to you. You’re exhausting.”

  “That’s ok. There are other things we can do besides talk. Can’t guarantee they’ll be less exhausting, though.”

  Blake sat across from her. Even in a plain black V-neck tee and jeans, he looked like he just stepped off the cover of GQ. The shirt showed off his broad shoulders and muscular arms, and his skin glowed golden in the bar’s dim lighting.

  Blake caught her staring and flashed a cocky grin. “Like what you see?” he mouthed.

  “I’ve seen better,” she mouthed back. She had. In the sculpture sections of Italy’s art museums.

  Blake smirked with the confidence of someone who knew he was the hottest guy in the room.

  Luke said something to him. When Blake turned his head to reply, Olivia grabbed Farrah’s arm. “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “That.” She gestured at Blake. “I almost melted from the sexual tension.”

  “Ha! You’ve been drinking too much.” Farrah had never heard anything more absurd. “There was no sexual tension.”

  “Oh, honey. Yes, there was. Why deny it? Blake is hot.” Olivia lowered her voice. “He’ll help you get over you-know-who. Like they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

  For the first time in her life, Farrah was thankful for the red flush that took over her face every time she drank alcohol. It concealed the heated embarrassment on her cheeks.

  “He’s not my type.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s every girl’s type.”

  Farrah sighed. She was tired of hearing that.

  “Guys, look what Luke brought.” Courtney waved a deck of cards in the air. “What do you say? Y’all up for a game of Kings?”

  “Hell yeah! I’m the king of Kings.” Luke pounded his chest. “Bring it on.”

  “Your resemblance to a gorilla is remarkable,” Kris observed.

  “Bite me.”

  “You wish.”

  “Children, settle down.” Courtney shuffled the cards and spread them, face-down, around the bottle of baijiu they smuggled in. It’d been sitting there unopened for the past hour. The staff didn’t seem to care, but no one in the group had the guts to open it. Baijiu, which ranged from eighty to one hundred twenty proof, was the Chinese equivalent of moonshine. It was no joke.

  “Normal rules, yeah? Ace is waterfall, two you, three me, four floor…” Courtney ran through the instructions in one breath.

  “I agree except for one thing,” Blake spoke u
p. “Ace is Hot Seat. Whoever draws it has to answer one question from every other player. Honestly.”

  “Oooh.” A grin spread across Courtney’s face. “I like that. I like that a lot.”

  Farrah narrowed her eyes. Blake would be the type to barge in and change the rules.

  The game heated up. Everyone took turns pulling a card, each of which came with a predetermined rule. For the first few rounds, Farrah pulled innocuous cards such as a ten (categories) and a five (all guys drink).

  Her luck ran out in the fifth round.

  After Olivia pulled a three (me, which meant she had to drink), it was Farrah’s turn. She examined the remaining cards. Her hand hovered over the one closest to her before she changed her mind and plucked a card from the other side. She flipped it over.

  An ace. The first of the night.

  The table erupted into cheers.

  Farrah groaned. “I hate you guys.”

  “No one forced you to choose that card. It was fate,” Sammy teased.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Farrah resigned herself to her so-called fate. She spread her arms. “I’m ready. Have at it.”

  They did. Her friends peppered her with rapid-fire questions. As expected, most were sexual but harmless.

  Ever have a threesome? Nope.

  Weirdest hookup spot? Lifeguard stand at the beach (depending on how you interpret the word “hookup”).

  Celebrity fantasy? Ian Somerhalder or Henry Cavill. Or both. Farrah added that last part as a joke, though it earned her a few speculative glances from the guys.

  Men. So predictable.

  Blake asked the next question. “If you could hook up with one person in the program, who would it be?”

  Farrah froze. Everyone stared at her expectantly as she worked to keep her face expressionless and her gaze from flicking in Leo’s direction. She was convinced any movement on her part would give it away. She thought about making something up, but she didn’t want someone thinking she had a crush on them when she didn’t.

  Lie or take the shot? On the one hand, the smell of baijiu alone made her want to vomit. On the other…

  Fuck it.

  Farrah picked up the baijiu, poured the clear liquid into an empty shot glass, and knocked it back straight, holding her breath so she didn’t have to inhale its fuel-like odor.

  Her friends burst into a spontaneous round of applause. Blake was the only one who didn’t clap. Instead, he watched her drink with a knowing smirk.

  Farrah grimaced as the cheap, fiery liquid burned its way down her throat. Why the hell did Chinese people like baijiu so much? It smelled and tasted like rubbing alcohol.

  Olivia handed her a glass of water, which she downed in five seconds. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. The urge to vomit subsided, but the alcohol’s brutal aftertaste lingered.

  “You are a champ.” Sammy reached around Olivia to pat her on the back.

  “You that desperate to hide something from us?” Leo joked.

  Farrah played it cool with a shrug and a smile. “No follow-up questions,” she reminded him. She avoided his gaze.

  Leo held up his hands in surrender. “Ok. Here’s an easy one. What’s your number?”

  Aka the number of people she’d slept with.

  She paused before answering. “Zero.”

  Olivia knew this, so she didn’t blink an eye, but the rest of the table stared at Farrah like she’d grown another head.

  “You’re shitting me,” Luke said.

  “Nope.” Farrah lifted her chin with equal parts embarrassment and defiance. A nineteen-year-old virgin from L.A. was a novelty these days, but she wasn’t a prude. She had experience on all the bases. She’d just never hit a home run.

  “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Olivia said loyally.

  “Of course not.” Farrah couldn’t tell whether Leo was impressed, amused, or bemused. “You’re ready when you’re ready. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

  Farrah forced a smile. She chose not to mention that, if she had her way, she’d have lost her virginity already. Last year, she came this close to giving it up to Garrett Reiss, the hot junior in her Visual Communication class. After their third date, they made it all the way to his dorm room and to the pivotal moment before Garrett realized he was out of condoms. Before their next date could happen, she caught him playing tonsil hockey with another girl at the movies, and that was that.

  Farrah didn’t want or need to wait for marriage or true love (although there was nothing wrong with that), but a girl had to have some standards. Sadly, every time she got close to doing the deed with someone who seemed to meet those standards, something came along and ruined it—wrong place, wrong time, no protection, guy turns out to be an asshole. The list goes on.

  At this point, Farrah was never going to have sex. She could picture her headstone engraving already: HERE LIES FARRAH LIN, WORLD’S OLDEST VIRGIN, WHO TRIED TO GIVE IT AWAY BUT COULDN’T. MAY SHE REST IN PEACE.

  “So how far have you gone?” Nardo looked intrigued. “Second? Third? Or—” He paused. “Wait. Have you gone past first?”

  Luke snorted out a laugh that morphed into a cough when Courtney shot him a dirty look.

  “Of course I have,” Farrah snapped. “I’m a virgin, not a nun.”

  “Let’s move on. We’ve broken the no-follow-up-questions rule enough tonight.” Blake pulled a jack. “Never Have I Ever.”

  Farrah exhaled in relief as everyone refocused on the game. She wasn’t ashamed of her lack of sexual experience, but she didn’t want to be grilled about it all night, either.

  Farrah looked across the table and caught Blake’s eye. He gave her a discreet wink.

  Huh.

  Maybe Blake Ryan wasn’t so bad after all.

  Chapter Four

  If Blake’s old teammates could see him now, they’d laugh their asses off.

  Blake Ryan, studying on a Friday night instead of hitting the town? Unheard of.

  While he’d been one of the few football players at TSU who chose a “serious” major (Business Administration) and took academics seriously, he’d never stayed in on Friday nights. Back then, he had appearances to keep up.

  But Blake wasn’t a football player anymore, and he was in Shanghai, not Texas. Not to mention, FEA’s curriculum was hard as shit. Four-hour language classes four days a week, on top of daily homework and vocabulary lessons, weekly written/oral exams, and two elective classes conducted all in Mandarin. The teachers, or laoshis, were patient with Blake, who spoke zero Mandarin coming into this program, but he still had no clue what was going on half the time.

  He tapped his pencil against the table. “Duibuqi. Dui. Bu. Qi,” he muttered, trying to imprint the characters in his mind. “Sorry” in Mandarin. He could pronounce it fine; writing it out was another matter.

  Blake covered the characters in his textbook with one hand and attempted to write them based on memory. He got through the first two and guessed the third. A quick check told him it wasn’t close.

  “Dammit.” His mom was right. He should’ve studied abroad in an English-speaking country like England or Australia.

  But no, he had to choose China, home to one of the hardest fucking languages in the world.

  Blake slammed his textbook shut and rubbed his eyes. His vision was blurry after hours of staring at the lines, curves, and squiggles that made up the Chinese written system. Meanwhile, the clock’s deafening tick echoed in the otherwise empty library, taunting him. Reminding him he’d been at it for two hours and still couldn’t get the easiest vocabulary words right.

  “I need a break.”

  Now he was talking to himself. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  Blake blamed Daniel Craig for his predicament. If Shanghai hadn’t looked so dope in that Skyfall scene, which he watched right before he submitted his study abroad application with his city choice, he wouldn’t be here. He’d be in Sydney, hooking up with surfer babes and living his best
life on the beach. Australia was even farther from home than China. It would’ve been perfect.

  Stupid Bond fight sequence.

  Blake stood to stretch his limbs. He rolled his neck and shrugged out his shoulders. Nothing better than movement after hours of sitting.

  The library door opened. Farrah walked in with what looked like a sketch pad and a stack of magazines tucked under her arm.

  Now there was trouble. Farrah was beautiful, and Blake got a kick out of riling her up, but she was off-limits. Not only was she in FEA—which meant he had to see her every day if things between them went south—but she was a virgin.

  Blake slept with a virgin once, in high school. Granted, he didn’t know Lorna was a virgin until after the fact, and when he declined to make things exclusive between them, she took a key to his beloved Chevy until it resembled Freddy Krueger’s face.

  Fun times.

  Then Lorna’s father found out Blake slept with his precious daughter and tracked him down after football practice with a shotgun in hand. Luckily, Blake’s coach saw them and called the police before Blake found himself eating dirt six feet beneath the ground. The police let the man off with a stern warning, since he technically hadn’t tried to shoot Blake (yet), but Blake still filed a restraining order against the girl’s entire damn family.

  Even funner times.

  Lorna transferred schools soon after, and Blake swore never to hook up with a virgin again. That didn’t mean he couldn’t flirt with Farrah, though. Flirting was harmless.

  He retook his seat, laced his hands behind his head, and kicked his feet up on the table with an insouciant smile.

  Farrah arched an eyebrow at his unorthodox position. Instead of commenting, she sat at the table next to him and opened one of her magazines.

  Blake stretched his arms over his head in a way that showed off his abs—one of his best assets. Along with everything else on his body.

  It ain’t cocky if it’s true.

  To his annoyance, Farrah didn’t look up. She continued to read, serene as a monk.

  Blake swung his feet to the floor. He walked over to her table, plunked his ass in the chair opposite hers, and rested his chin in his hands.