by Ana Huang
The peaceful atmosphere in the cab shattered. Farrah’s jaw dropped. “Wow. That is so cynical.”
“I’m not cynical. I’m telling the truth.” Blake wasn’t anti-love, but it was overrated. Look at him and Cleo. Childhood friends turned lovers, with plenty of bumps and obstacles along the way. Their story was made for the movies and look how that turned out. Everyone said they were meant to be 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 her friends about her excursion with Blake. It wasn’t like they went on a date. It wasn’t worth bringing up.
Her discomfort didn’t go unnoticed.
Olivia narrowed her eyes. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.” Farrah swiped her sketchbook from her desk. “Hey, wanna look at my designs and tell me what you think?”
“Yes, after you tell me what you’re hiding. Oh my god, did you meet someone last weekend?” Olivia clutched Farrah’s arm, her eyes wide with excitement. “Are you having a secret affair?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m with you guys all the time. The logistics wouldn’t work.”
“You weren’t with us Sunday.”
Farrah sighed. Once Olivia got an idea in her head, she was like a pit bull with a bone. “Fine. If you must know, I ran into Blake on my way out and, on the spur of the moment—meaning it wasn’t planned—I asked him to join me. We went to a few galleries and came back. The end.”
Olivia’s grip tightened. “You’re having a secret affair with Blake Ryan!”
“I am not!” Farrah wrenched her arm away and shook it out. “Jesus, you cut off my circulation.”
“Don’t change the subject. You spent an entire day with Blake and didn’t tell us about it. Why?” Olivia wiggled her eyebrows. “What naughty things did you get up to?”
“None. You read too many erotica novels.”
For someone so status-driven, Olivia was surprisingly open about her less-than-highbrow reading habits.
“They’re great inspiration. Sammy has no complaints.”
Farrah wrinkled her nose. “Ew. TMI.”
Waaaay too much information.
As she’d expected, Olivia caved and hooked up with Sammy at 808 earlier that week. They’d gone on their first date the next night and were fast becoming one of FEA’s most nauseatingly cute couples.
Farrah was thrilled (the 100 kuai she received for winning the group’s bet on when Olivia and Sammy would get together was a bonus), but their relationship also reminded her of the utter lack of romance in her own life.
“Once again, changing the subject. I know he’s not your ‘type’—” Olivia placed the word in air quotes. “But maybe that’s a good thing. Leo’s your type, but he’s taken. Are you still into him?”
“Who, Blake?”
“Leo!”
“Uh.” Farrah pictured Leo’s curly dark hair and easy smile. As usual, her stomach fluttered at the mental image, though the sensation was more muted than usual. “I’m getting over it.”
“That means you’re not over it, which means you need to get over it, because we have a whole school year ahead of us. You’re young, hot,
and single in Shanghai. You can have any guy you want except, you know, Leo. As your friend, I’m obligated to make sure you don’t spend your time here moping over unrequited love.”
“Come on. I have other things going on in my life.”
“Yeah, but you still think about him all the time. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Farrah fiddled with the binder rings on her sketchbook.
“That’s what I thought. Now, you know what they say. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. In this case, that ‘someone else’ is a Greek god lookalike whose name rhymes with Jake Bryan.”
“Not going to happen.”
Olivia let out an exasperated huff. “I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn. The boy is HOT. Capital H, capital O, capital T. Have you seen his abs?”
“No.” Farrah raised her eyebrows. “Have you?”
Olivia’s cheeks colored. “I may have snuck a tiny peek when I saw him coming out of the shower on my way to Sammy’s room.”
Farrah’s eyebrows arched higher.
“Stop. I went to return Sammy’s pen. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, Blake is the perfect person to help you get over Leo.”
“He’s cute, but he’s so—" Farrah searched for the right word. “Cocky.”
“Mmm. I bet he is.”
“Olivia!” It was Farrah’s turn to flush red.
Olivia laughed. “Look, you said you’re not waiting for The One to lose your virginity to. It’s probably better that way. Less pressure. And since we’re in Shanghai, what better way to lose your virginity and get over Leo than by hooking up with a hot guy who knows what he’s doing? Because trust me, Blake looks like he knows what he’s doing.”
On paper, it made sense. Farrah was physically attracted to Blake. She even enjoyed hanging out with him (most of the time).
But Blake thought romance was a con, which was the most blasphemous thing Farrah could think of.
Then again, it didn’t matter what he thought of love if it was going to be a hookup, right?
Ugh. Her head hurt.
Olivia placed her hand on Farrah’s arm. “Remember, we’re studying abroad. What happens in Shanghai stays in Shanghai.”
Did it? Farrah wasn’t so sure.
Yet later that night, after Olivia left and moonlight streamed through the curtains like a river of silver silk, Farrah found herself mulling over Olivia’s words. She thought about them over and over until she drifted asleep to dreams of Texas and crystal blue eyes.
Chapter Eight
Blake was lonely.
It was a real bitch, considering he’d spent years wishing for more alone time.
He’d chosen to stay behind for the National Holiday while his friends lived it up in Thailand, but he was starting to regret his decision.
At first, having the dorm to himself was great. Blake walked through the halls half-naked and blasted his music as loud as he liked. He didn’t have to study or do homework. He did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.
The high lasted two or three days before Blake started missing FEA’s noise and bustle. He missed bantering with Farrah. He even missed Luke’s dumb texts. Sure, he enjoyed exploring Shanghai, but it would be nice to, you know, have someone join him.
He couldn’t even talk to his family or friends back home. Besides the Austin-Shanghai time difference, his mom and sister were busy with school as an art teacher and student, respectively. Landon was busy prepping to take over his mother’s empire. He didn’t want to call Cleo and open a can of worms, and he would rather poke his eyes out than speak with his dad.
After his morning jog at World Expo park, Blake went to Nanjing Road instead of returning to the dorm. He needed to be around people.
He got off at the People’s Square station and walked to East Nanjing. The famous pedestrian street bustled with activity. He wanted people; he got people. They streamed by in a relentless, never-ending wave of humanity.
Shanghai was the most populous city in the most populous country in the world, and it never let you forget it.
Blake wandered aimlessly, unsure what he was searching for. He passed by couples, families, and tourists gawking at the spectacle. Huge signs and video advertisements loomed overhead, screaming for attention.
A few days ago, these things made him feel alive. Free. No one knew him here. He could do and be whoever he wanted. But now…
Blake stopped. The man behind him cursed and walked around him, knocking into Blake’s shoulder as he did so. A harried-looking young mother ran past with three children. Her gaze flicked over Blake before she turned her attention to the child trying to scrape a piece of old gum off the sidewalk. A group of teenagers huddled over a phone and laughed at something on-screen.
Blake saw them but didn’t see them. He could only focus on the image in his mind’s eye, of himself standing in the middle of Shanghai’s busiest street, surrounded by people who didn’t know and didn’t care who he was.
One ant among thousands.
A stranger in a strange land.
Loneliness settled like a rock in the pit of his stomach.
For the first time in his life, Blake was homesick.
He resumed his walk down Nanjing Road and kept his eyes peeled for something, anything that reminded him of home. He bypassed McDonald’s—he wasn’t that desperate—and made a left onto an adjacent street. Ten minutes later, he stumbled onto a sports bar named The End Zone.
Not the most creative name, but it sounded comfortingly American.
“Hey.” The bartender smiled when he walked in. She resembled a young Angelina Jolie, and her name tag indicated she was called Mina.
“Hey.” Blake parked himself at the bar and ordered a cup of coffee and the signature breakfast plate—eggs, bacon, home fries, toast.
The place was empty this early in the morning, and there were no interesting games on TV, so Blake settled for flirting with Mina, who seemed all too happy to flirt back. In the space of ten minutes, Blake learned she grew up in Phoenix, graduated from Arizona State with a degree in public relations, and took a gap year to travel and visit her brother in Shanghai.
Blake was shocked to learn Mina’s brother owned the End Zone. From what she told him, her brother was only a few years older than her, and she was twenty-two, twenty-three tops.
“How’d he end up here?” Blake broke off a piece of bacon and popped it in his mouth. It tasted like home.
The bells above the door jangled as another customer walked in.
“He hated school and dropped out his junior year to backpack around Asia. He loved Shanghai so much he moved here. Got a gig in the restaurant industry, made some good connections, and opened this place two years ago.”
“You make it sound so easy.” The wheels in Blake’s head started turning. When he chose to major in business, he’d been thinking about a corporate job in marketing or operations. Not entrepreneurship. He didn’t know the first thing about starting and running a business. The thought of doing his own thing was tempting, though. Blake could be his own boss. No one would tell him what to do.
“It was tough at first, but he made it work. Greg’s good at this sort of thing.” Mina left to tend to the other customer, but not before giving Blake a wink that said she’d be back.
Blake’s heart beat fast. The wheels in his head turned faster.
He liked sports bars. He knew what people who frequented sports bars liked because he’d grown up with them. He knew how to build and sell a brand—he’d been selling himself as a brand for years.
It was like a dam broke. After months of not knowing what he wanted to do after graduation, the ideas flowed so fast Blake couldn’t keep up.
He asked for the check and scribbled his signature, eager to return to the dorm and put some of his ideas on paper. They might not lead anywhere, but it felt good to have a plan. He couldn’t wait to tell—
Who?
His family? His father wasn’t going to be happy
unless Blake rejoined the football world; his mother and Joy would try their best to be supportive, but they wouldn’t get it.
His friends? His Shanghai friends were in Thailand, and they didn’t know him well enough to understand why he was so excited.
Meanwhile, his friends back home were far and few in between after he quit the team. He and Cleo didn’t part on the best terms, and Landon had his hands full with his mother.
When Blake led the TSU Mustangs to their third national championship, he had 50,000 people cheering him on. When it came to the personal wins, he had no one.
The realization washed over him like a cold shower.
“It was nice talking to you.” Mina whisked his signed receipt off the counter. “I have to keep an eye on things until my brother gets in tonight, but I’ll be free after eight.” She pressed another slip of paper into Blake’s hand. “We could have some fun. No strings attached.”
Blake raised his eyebrows. “No strings attached, huh?”
“I’m in Shanghai for a few more weeks, and you’re cute.” Mina shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be a big thing.”
Blake thought about the empty dorm waiting for him on campus and slipped her number into his pocket. “I’ll see you at eight.”
Chapter Nine
The rays warmed Farrah’s skin like a luxurious blanket, the sound of water lapping against the shore provided a soothing natural soundtrack, and the coconut drink next to her was the best she’d ever tasted.
Life was good.
She propped herself up to take another sip of her drink.
“You’re blocking my sun,” Kris said.
“Sorry.” Farrah lay down. Despite their idyllic setting, Kris was grumpier than usual.
“Cheer up.” Courtney stretched her arms over her head. Hours of sun had darkened her freckles until they resembled a constellation of stars across her nose and cheeks. “Look at this place. How can you not be happy here?”
Koh Samui was a popular tourist destination, but the group was lucky enough to stumble on this remote beach on their way back to the resort. Swaying coconut palms, big boulders framing the pristine stretch of powdery white sand, crystal water that glittered like a sheet of aquamarine beneath the sun. It was a tropical postcard come to life.