If We Ever Meet Again

by Ana Huang

  “You’re right. But I still need to find the money.” Blake shook his head. “Unless I win the lottery, I won’t have enough for rent, much less everything else.”

  “There are loans and investors. You’ll figure it out. You’re Blake Ryan.”

  “I’m Blake Ryan, football star. Not Blake Ryan, businessman.” His eyes flickered with vulnerability.

  Farrah’s heart ached. The world saw Blake the football player. Cocky, athletic, good-looking. The one every girl wanted and every guy wanted to be.

  That was how she’d once seen him, too.

  While those things may be a part of him, he’d opened up enough for her to see past the winks and irreverent quips to the person deep inside—the boy whose life was defined by something someone else chose for him, who’d been told over and over again his worth was based on his skills with a ball, and who wanted to be loved as a person instead of a commodity.

  Tears stung her eyes. “You will be,” Farrah said fiercely. “You’re Blake Ryan, anything you want to be. Businessman. President. CEO of fucking space. If Elon Musk can do it, so can you.”

  He laughed softly. “I’m not Elon Musk, either.”

  “No.” Farrah pressed her forehead against his. “You’re better. You’re you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Blake didn’t know what good deed he performed in his past life, but it must’ve been a helluva big one because it brought the girl of his dreams into his life.

  His chest squeezed every time he remembered the look in Farrah’s eyes when she gave him a much-needed pep talk the other day. The look that told him she meant every word she said, that she believed he could do this. That she believed in him.

  No one had ever looked at him like that before.

  Blake was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t notice his mom pick up the Skype call until her voice broke through his consciousness.

  “Blake!” Helen’s face filled the screen. She was wearing her old sorority sweatshirt, the one she always wore when she cleaned the house. Blake did a quick mental calculation. It was nine at night in Shanghai, which meant it was seven in the morning in Austin. Trust his mom to be cleaning this early on a Saturday. “How are you, sweetie? I haven’t heard from you in weeks.” Her voice carried a gentle rebuke.

  Blake’s stomach twisted with guilt. “I know. I’m sorry. Things have been kinda crazy.”

  “It’s all right, dear, as long as you promise to call more often. Now tell me about these ‘crazy things’ you’ve been up to.”

  Blake filled his mom in on his classes, friends, and favorite places in the city. He hesitated before adding, “I’ve been seeing someone in the program. Her name’s Farrah.”

  He tensed in anticipation of his mom’s response. She’d been planning his and Cleo’s wedding since they were toddlers, and she took their breakup hard. He had no idea how she’d react to this news.

  Helen’s eyebrows shot up. “How long have you been seeing her?”

  “A few weeks.”

  “And this is the first I’m hearing of her?” There was that rebuke again. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What’s she like?”

  “She’s amazing. Beautiful, smart, funny. When I’m around her, I…” Blake’s voice trailed off. Just thinking about Farrah made him giddy as a schoolboy. He’d turned into one of those sappy boyfriends he used to make fun of. “I dunno. I feel great.”

  “She sounds lovely.” Helen paused. “Where is she from?”

  “L.A.”

  “I see.”

  Warning bells rang in his head. “Why do you sound relieved?”

  “I’m not relieved.” Helen’s guilty expression said otherwise. “I’m glad you’re having fun in Shanghai. It’s a good break from…everything that happened this past year. Hopefully, once you’re home, you’ll be ready to set everything straight.”

  The warning bells rang louder. “What is ‘everything’?”

  “Oh, you know. This whole football business with your father, and your relationship with Cleo. It’s a shame you won’t be coming home for Thanksgiving. She’s bringing her famous mac ’n cheese. I know how much you love that dish.”

  Blake took a deep, controlled breath. “There’s nothing to sort out. I’m done with football, and Dad will have to get it over it. As for Cleo, we’re not getting back together.”

  “Of course you are. You love her,” Helen said. “I understand you needed a break to clear your head, but the two of you are meant to be. You’ve been friends since you were children.”

  “That’s all we are, Mom. Friends.”

  “You dated for a year!”

  It was a mistake, Blake wanted to say. He should’ve known better than to cave to his family’s expectations. They were the ones who’d wanted him to date Cleo. He did love her—just not in the way they wanted him to. If he had any doubt before, his relationship with Farrah cleared it up. The feelings he had for Cleo at the height of their relationship didn’t come close to his feelings for Farrah now. “Yes, and I realized we’re better off as friends.”

  Helen pinched her temple. “This Farrah girl…”

  “I love her.”

  The words spilled out without thought. Helen’s jaw dropped.

  Meanwhile, Blake’s heart raced with adrenaline at the admission. Neither he nor Farrah had broached the L word yet. He should’ve been terrified—love was the ultimate commitment. But he wasn’t. Because if he was being honest, he’d known deep down he was in love with Farrah long before he said the words out loud.

  He’d been falling in love with her, bit by bit, since the moment they met.

  It wasn’t scary.

  It was inevitable.

  “Oh, honey.” Helen sighed. “You’ve known her for what? Three months? I know it must be exciting, being in a foreign country and all, but you have to be practical. She lives in L.A.; you live in Texas. Long-distance relationships are difficult. Meanwhile, Cleo is right here. She stood by you through everything, including after you quit the team.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to stay in Texas.”

  Once again, the words slipped out.

  Blake had never considered moving out of Texas. That’s where his family and friends were. No one he knew left the state for good. However, now that he’d floated the possibility, the idea seemed more and more appealing.

  He could go anywhere. New York, L.A. Hell, he could move to Shanghai if he wanted to.

  The adrenaline kicked up another notch.

  Helen paled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “It’s not ridiculous. I graduate soon. I don’t have to stay in Texas like everyone else.”

  “Where are you going to go? How will you afford it?”

  Blake repeated Farrah’s mantra. “I’ll figure it out.”

  His mom was at her wit’s end. “Why don’t you speak to your father? I’m sure he’ll have some thoughts about this.”

  Blake bet he would.

  Helen turned her head toward the living room. “Joe! Blake wants to talk to you.”

  “No! Mom—”

  Too late.

  Helen stood up to make way for Blake’s father.

  Fuck.

  “So.” Joe Ryan sat and pinned his piercing gaze on Blake. Older and world-wearier, with wrinkles. Otherwise, Joe looked the same as when he was Blake’s age. The same thick blond hair—thank god Blake didn’t have to worry about balding when he was older—the same blue eyes and square jaw, the same gruff, determined expression.

  “So.”

  Silence.

  “How’s China?” Joe looked like he would rather be anywhere but here.

  That made two of them.

  “Fine.”

  Blake’s response earned him a stern glare. “Try again with a real answer.”

  Blake bit back a caustic reply. Instead, he gave his father a quick rundown of the semester. He omitted the details he gave his mom and focused on his classes. He didn’t need his father giving him shit about going o
ut when he should be “getting his life together.”

  “What about outside of class? What are you doing?”

  “Hanging out.”

  Another withering stare. “You’re telling me we paid thousands of dollars for you to fly across the world and hang out?” Joe’s face twisted like the words left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Blake gripped his laptop so hard he was surprised it didn’t crack. “There’s the matter of my classes, which I just mentioned,” he said, struggling to remain calm. “Cultural exchange, foreign language learning. You know, small stuff.”

  “How useful is that going to be? I didn’t swan off to another country when I was in college and I turned out fine.”

  Yeah, if you consider being a bitter old man who lives vicariously through his son “fine.”

  “What I want to know is what you’re going to do when you come back.” Joe drummed his fingers on the table. “You’re graduating this year. Did you think about that? Or are you so busy running around Shanghai that you haven’t given a single thought to your future since you threw it away?”

  “I did not throw my future away.” Blake’s jaw clenched with a mixture of fear and irritation. “I have—I will have—a business degree.”

  “That degree is a formality. When was the last time you did anything business-related?”

  “I interned at Z Hotels.”

  “Yes, you interned at the company your best friend’s family runs.” Joe snorted. “Laura Zinterhofer won’t give you a management role just because you run around with her son.”

  Blake’s jaw clenched harder. “I never said that. I earned that internship. Landon didn’t know I applied until after I got it.”

  “Fine. Tell me, what is your grand post-college business plan?” Joe leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Blake should’ve waited. He was nowhere near ready to tell anyone but Farrah about his plans. With her encouragement, he’d put together a to-do list of everything he needed to make the sports bar a reality. It was…a lot. The estimated cost alone made his eyes swim.

  However, the condescending smirk on his father’s face pulled the words out before he could stop them. “I’m opening a sports bar.”

  A beat of silence, followed by loud guffaws as Joe burst into laughter. “Get serious.”

  “I am serious,” Blake said through gritted teeth.

  “You know nothing about running a business. A sports bar? C’mon. There are a million sports bars out there. Take it from someone who’s been around a lot longer than you have, son: stick to what you’re good at. You’re good at football. That’s it.”

  Anger ate away at Blake’s stomach. “I’m not going back to football. An NFL career is your dream, not mine.”

  “Yeah? You sure as hell didn’t turn down those Heismans. You have talent and prospects other boys your age would kill for, and you’re throwing it all away!” Joe pounded the table. “Do you know how much money you can make in the NFL? Think of the sponsorships. The name recognition. If you’re smart, you can take that to the bank even after you retire.”

  “It’s not about the money!” Blake yelled.

  “It’s not until you’re jobless and broke!” Joe yelled back. “If you think your mother and I will bankroll your pipe dream, think again!”

  “I don’t need you to bankroll me. I’ll do it myself!”

  “Ha, I’d like to see that happen.”

  “It will happen, and it’ll be no thanks to you.” Blake hung up without another word. Pressing the “end call” button wasn’t as satisfying as slamming down a phone, but it did the trick.

  His heart zipped through his chest like a racecar driver intent on winning the Indy 100.

  Screw his father. Blake was going to own the most successful fucking sports bar in the world, and when he did, he was going to rub it in Joe Ryan’s face.

  In the meantime, he needed to calm down before he punched a hole in the wall. Nothing ruined his day like a conversation with his father.

  Once the red haze dissipated from his vision, Blake texted Farrah. She was the only person who could make him feel better.

  Are you busy? I miss you.

  She responded not a minute later. Be right there.

  Blake’s heart rate slowed. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. He had a lot of shit to do if he wanted his business venture to be a success.

  First on the list: figure out where he wanted to open the bar.

  He heard a knock.

  “I come bearing gifts,” Farrah said when Blake opened the door. She unwrapped a paper towel to reveal a pile of Sammy’s legendary chocolate chip cookies. “I passed by the kitchen and nabbed a few before Luke got to them. I swear he’s here more since he moved into his homestay.” She shook her head. “How was your call with your mom?”

  Blake popped a cookie in his mouth. “Fine. Until it turned into a call with my dad.”

  Farrah winced. “Not good?”

  “That’s one way to put it. I told him about the sports bar idea. He thinks it’s dumb.”

  She walked to his desk and set the cookies down. She turned and said, in the calmest voice possible, “Fuck what he thinks.”

  Blake had to pick his jaw up from the floor. He’d never heard Farrah be so blunt.

  “If he can’t see your potential, that’s his problem. Don’t let his limitations run your life. You can do this.” Farrah cupped his face in her hands. “I know you can.”

  His heart ached. The person he saw reflected in her eyes was the person he always wanted to be: brave, smart, passionate. Someone who chased his dreams and believed in himself. Someone worthy of love and respect.

  “What would I do without you?”

  “Oh, you’d probably be checking yourself out in the mirror and calculating how many pushups you need to maintain your physique.”

  Farrah squealed as Blake lifted her up and tossed her on the bed with a playful growl. “Who says I don’t do that anyway?”

  Her eyes shone with laughter. “I admire your self-awareness.”

  “Admire, huh? Keep going.” Blake nipped her bottom lip, enjoying her sharp inhale.

  Yeah, he had a lot of shit to figure out, but he’d do that later. Right now, there were more enjoyable things on the agenda.

  “You wish. I’m not here to—” Her breath turned shallow as he trailed kisses down her neck, licking and sucking until he reached the pulse fluttering wildly at her throat. “—boost your ego.”

  “What are you here for?” Blake brushed his lips over her collarbone. Her orange blossom-and-vanilla scent caused his blood to rush south.

  “For this.” Farrah brought his head up to hers and captured his mouth in a searing kiss.

  Coherent thought slipped away. Their tongues tangled in a sultry duel that left Blake breathless. He lost himself in the taste of her, the heat of their embrace, the heady sensation of being in the arms of the girl he loved.

  Farrah tugged on the hem of his shirt. He took her cue and pulled the pesky piece of fabric over his head, eager to be rid of one less barrier between them. She tracked every movement, her eyes molten with desire.

  “Blake.” Her breathy whisper almost did him in.

  “Yes, baby?” Blake lifted her shirt and pressed a hot kiss to her stomach. He inched his way up until he reached the lacy edge of her bra.

  “I’m ready.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I’m ready.”

  Blake froze.

  Farrah’s heart slammed against her ribcage. This was it.

  Bye-bye, nineteen years of virginity.

  “Are you sure?” Blake’s brow crinkled with…concern? Not the reaction she’d expected or been hoping for.

  “Yes.” Farrah maneuvered them so Blake lay on his back and she hovered over him. She trailed kisses over his neck, shoulders, chest, and stomach until the agonizingly slow journey brought her to the top of his jeans. She stroked him through the denim. He was so huge and hard it sent
spikes of fear and anticipation through her.

  Blake’s stomach muscles contracted; a low growl ripped from his throat. He gripped her arms and yanked her up. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?” She shrugged free and started unbuckling his belt.

  He covered her hand with his, forcing her to still. “I don’t know if I’ll—we don’t have to do this now. We can wait.” She noticed beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

  “I don’t want to wait. I’m ready.” Farrah had waited nineteen years. She was tired of waiting.

  The clock ticked in the corner, reminding her that every second brought them closer to the end. She’d waited her entire life to find someone who made her feel the way Blake did. To experience what her friends always gushed about. She wasn’t going to let it slip through her fingers. “I want you now.”

  Farrah eased her hand out from beneath Blake’s. She tugged his jeans and boxers down and sucked in a breath at the sight of his arousal. Her body ached to feel him inside her while her mind wondered how in the world he’d fit. He was larger than anyone she’d been with, and while she hadn’t had actual intercourse with her previous partners, they were manageable. Blake, on the other hand…

  “I don’t want to scare you.” Blake’s voice was so rough it was barely recognizable.

  “I’m not scared.” To prove her point, Farrah kneeled and took him in her mouth. Blake shuddered as she luxuriated in the taste and feel of his warm, velvet-covered steel length. Some of her girlfriends thought blowjobs were degrading, but Farrah disagreed. There was nothing more empowering than having total control over another’s pleasure.

  Besides, when you’re a 19-year-old virgin who’s done everything but, you get pretty darn good at “everything but.”

  Farrah swirled her tongue over the swollen head and stroked her hands down his heated shaft. Her mouth followed her fingers from the base to the tip and back again. Blake hissed out a breath and fisted her hair with one hand when she increased her pace. Farrah moaned at the gentle tug on her scalp. The fire in her belly grew; arousal dampened her thighs. She sucked on him greedily while her hands roamed, stroking and caressing until they were both ready to explode with desire.