Blake’s dry spell? Donezo.
Thank god. If he went any longer without sex, they’d have to wheel him into the ER for emergency blue ball surgery.
However, despite Mina’s considerable skills in bed, their fling wasn’t as satisfying as he’d expected. It was like junk food: good in the moment, until the high dissipated and left him emptier than ever.
Blake watched as Mina slipped into her heels and slung her bag strap over her shoulder. Luke texted a few hours ago saying he’d swing by after he dropped his luggage off at his homestay. He expected his ex-roommate to bang down his door any minute now.
Someone knocked.
Well, that was scarily accurate timing.
“That’s my cue,” Mina drawled. Like Blake, she had no desire for after-sex chitchat. They met up, banged, and parted ways. Easy. Simple. No strings attached.
“I’ll walk you out.”
Blake opened the door, expecting to see Luke’s burly frame filling the doorway. To his shock, he found Farrah standing there dressed in…sheep pajamas?
Yep, those were definitely fluffy white sheep marching across her shirt and pants. They were so adorable and such a departure from Farrah’s usual polished style Blake couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
“Hey, I—” Farrah stopped when she saw Mina. One look at Mina’s tousled hair and swollen lips, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what she and Blake had been up to.
Surprise and another emotion Blake couldn’t place flitted across her face.
Tendrils of guilt snaked up his spine.
Wait. I have nothing to be guilty about. Blake was single. He could hook up with anyone he wanted.
“I can see myself out.” Mina stood on her tiptoes to plant a lingering kiss on Blake’s mouth. He returned it with hesitation, hyperaware of Farrah’s presence. “Call me later.”
She nodded at Farrah on her way out. “Nice jammies.” She sauntered down the hall and disappeared into the stairwell.
“Sorry,” Farrah said, that strange expression still on her face. “I didn’t know you had company.”
“It’s fine. She was leaving anyway.” Blake leaned against the doorframe. Nope. Guilt had no business here. None at all. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“It’s nothing.”
“If it’s nothing, you wouldn’t be standing here.”
Farrah blew out a breath. “Ok, I don’t want you to read too much into this, but I got you something from Thailand and wanted to give it to you before I forget.” She handed him a small elephant figurine. He’d been so busy staring at the sheep he hadn’t noticed the elephant. “It’s modeled after an elephant at the sanctuary we went to. He reminded me of you.”
Blake took the elephant and rubbed his thumb over the intricate stone carving. A lump formed in his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he received a gift from someone who didn’t expect something back.
The pit of loneliness that had plagued him for the past week shrank from the size of a fist to the size of a pea.
Stop being a pansy and toughen up. It’s an elephant, for chrissakes.
Blake ignored the warmth flooding his veins and flashed his signature smile, the one that he knew made girls melt. To his annoyance, Farrah remained unfazed. “Was the elephant also handsome and athletic?”
“Cocky and a showoff.”
“I’ll take it.” Blake assessed the elephant. Heck, it was a good-looking animal. “Thank you. This is so thoughtful.”
Farrah looked embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal. Just a trinket I picked up.”
“Well, I appreciate it. Shows how much you missed me.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“I did not miss you.”
“You thought about me.”
“Hardly.”
“You thought about me enough to buy this.” Blake brandished the elephant in triumph.
Farrah’s expression was priceless.
“You know what? I’m taking it back.” She attempted to swipe the figurine from his hands. He held it above his head, laughing as she jumped to try to reach it. “I’m giving it to Josh.”
Blake stilled. “Who’s Josh?”
“My cousin.”
He relaxed. “Well, Josh will have to do without because Blake Jr. is mine.”
“Of course you named it after yourself. How narcissistic can you be?”
“Very. Now stop trying to take him back, or you’re not getting your thank you present.”
That caught her attention. “What’s my present?”
“Whatever you want it to be.”
“That’s the laziest answer ever.”
“Yet it works. Would you rather have something you want or something someone else thinks you want?”
Farrah frowned. “Good point. Fine. I want dinner. A good dinner. I’m starving.”
“That’s it?”
“You want me to ask for your firstborn, too?”
“If you want to raise him or her for me, sure.” Blake shrugged. “In the meantime, dinner it is, milady.”
“I’ll change.”
“No. You should wear those PJs out. They’re cute.” He tried to keep a straight face. He failed.
“Shut up.” Farrah spun on her heels and marched toward the stairs.
“I’m serious. They are cute!” Blake yelled after her.
She flipped him the finger without turning around. “Meet me in the lobby in ten.”
Blake was still chuckling when he tucked the elephant into his desk drawer. He changed into street clothes and pulled out his phone to ask Luke for a rain check when a message from his friend popped up.
Can’t make it tonight. Homestay fam made dinner for me.
Sometimes the universe aligns.
Cool. Next time.
On Blake’s way to the lobby, he passed by Zack and Scott, who sported dark tans from their week backpacking in Vietnam. Flo was downstairs, surrounded by a pile of shopping bags stamped with Korean characters. She was showing off what looked like a pack of Jason masks to her friends.
Hmm. That reminds me, Halloween is coming up.
“I’m ready!”
Farrah bounded down the stairs in a coat, jeans, and boots. A scarf wrapped around her throat; gloves covered her hands.
It was sixty degrees outside.
“I didn’t realize we’re going to Siberia for dinner.”
“Har-har.” Farrah flipped her hood up. “I’m from SoCal. I’m cold.”
“I’m from Texas and you don’t see me dressed like an Eskimo.”
“You’re a guy. Guys make terrible decisions.”
“That’s sexist.”
“Sue me.”
Blake grinned. Damn, he’d missed her.
“So where do you want to eat dinner, princess?”
She cut a glance his way but let the nickname slide. “Any chance you discovered a cool new restaurant around here?”
Hmm. He’d tried a bunch of restaurants, but none—wait. A slow grin spread across his face.
“Actually, I did. It’s not new, and it’s not around here, but you’ll love it. Come on!”
“Where are we going?” Farrah puffed as she jogged to keep up with him. Blake had a good seven inches on her; every step he took was the equivalent of two of hers.
“You’ll see.”
They climbed into one of the cabs idling outside the campus gates. Blake gave the address to the driver, who stepped on the gas in a sudden move that threw Blake and Farrah against the backseat.
“The least you can do is tell me what kind of cuisine it is,” Farrah said once they straightened themselves up. “Pretty please.”
“And ruin the surprise? No way.”
She pouted. “Fine. At least tell me whether the food is good.”
“I have no idea.”
“Blake!”
The driver slammed the brakes as they approached a red light. Everyone jerked forward.
Christ. This man’s driving was the reason they invented seat belts.
“How can you not know if the food is good or not?” Farrah clutched her chest. “Are you taking me to…an untested restaurant?”
Blake laughed. “Olivia’s spoiled you.”
“Say what you will, but the girl knows her restaurants. She’s never steered me wrong.”
“It’s not about the food. Trust me, you’ll love it.”
“It’s dinner. Of course it’s about the food.”
Blake smiled in response. He refused to succumb to Farrah’s pleas for more information. Instead, he distracted her with questions about Thailand, which she was more than happy to talk about. Other than what sounded like Courtney-Leo drama, the trip seemed like a blast, especially the Full Moon Party. Drinking on the beach, fire jump ropes, and bikini-clad girls (including Farrah) covered in body paint? Blake regretted staying behind.
They arrived at their destination. It was a well-known spot, just not amongst the college crowd. He doubted Farrah had heard of it.
The look on her face when the building came into sight proved him right.
“What is this place?” she breathed, her eyes wide with amazement as she took in the architectural marvel in front of her.
Tucked in the northwestern corner of the French Concession, the mansion resembled a Northern European storybook castle with its brown-tiled Gothic and Tudor steeples and spires. There were Chinese touches too, like the two stone lions guarding the front gate and Chinese-style glazed tiling along its roof. It was a radical departure from the colonial architecture that made up most of the French Concession.
Blake grinned at Farrah’s reaction. “It’s called Moller Villa. It belonged to some rich European guy, but it’s a hotel now. Don’t worry—there’s a restaurant inside.”
“How did you find this place? I can’t believe I’ve never heard of it and I’m supposed to be the design student.”
“It’s not in a lot of Shanghai guides. I only know about it because I was hanging out in a cafe nearby, and one of the staff recommended it.”
Farrah slid a glance in his direction. “You met quite a few new people while we were gone.”
She was no doubt referring to Mina. For his own sake, Blake chose not to take the bait.
They didn’t have reservations, but the hostess squeezed them in after Farrah said something to her in Mandarin. He couldn’t understand everything she said, but he picked up on the words “boyfriend” (nan pengyou) and “one year” (yi nian).
“What did you tell her?” he whispered as the hostess led them to their table.
“I told her you’re my boyfriend and it’s our one-year anniversary. This was where we had our first date, but you forgot to make reservations.”
“Throwing me under the bus. Typical girlfriend behavior.”
Her silvery laugh was music to his ears.
Chill, man. Stop acting like you’ve never been on a date—
He caught himself in the nick of time. This wasn’t a date. This was—why were they here again? Right. He was thanking her for the elephant.
It was 100% not a date.
Just a guy and a girl he found wildly attractive, having dinner in a romantic hotel in Shanghai.
Shit.
They took their seats and examined their menus. Blake hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t know if the food was good. Judging by the way Farrah’s eyes roved the room, examining every detail, it didn’t matter. They both knew what they were here for, and it wasn’t the lamb.
“You really love it.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “What?”
“Design. You haven’t stopped staring at the architecture since we arrived.”
“Sorry. I’m being a bad dinner companion.” Farrah bit her lip. “This design contest is taking over my life.”
“It’s nothing to apologize for.” In fact, her passion fascinated him. What was it like to wake up every day feeling that excited about something? Pretty nice, he’d bet. “How did you get so interested in interior design?”
“You could say it’s been a lifelong dream.” Farrah smiled. “Sounds cheesy but when I was seven, my parents redecorated the house, and I tagged along with them to the furniture and paint stores. Most kids my age would’ve found it boring. I loved it. Turns out I had a knack for matching colors and arranging furniture. My dad even brought me to his office—” A shadow crossed her face. Farrah cleared her throat and sipped her water. “Anyway, the rest is history.”
“A seven-year-old prodigy,” Blake teased. He stabbed a piece of meat with his fork. “Do you think you like design so much because you’re good at it, or you’re good at it because you like it?”
“I never thought about it.” Farrah traced the rim of her glass with her finger. “Both, I guess. I’m good at it and I like it. I love taking a space and helping it fulfill its potential. Like this restaurant is just a room, right? But with the right furniture and colors, it’s a formal dinner spot. Change things up, and it can be a cozy library or a modern minimalist gallery. It can be anything. My job is to mold a space into something that’s perfect for the owner—something that’ll transform it from just a room into an experience, or a home. We spend most of our lives indoors. How incredible is it to shape something that’s such a huge part of people’s lives?”
Blake was so swept up in Farrah’s enthusiasm he could picture everything she was saying—the library, the gallery, the gasps of delight when the owners saw their redecorated homes for the first time.
“I’m rambling.”
“No. I love hearing you talk about it. It’s…captivating.” The word slipped out without thought. Part of Blake wanted to take it back, but it was the perfect word to describe how he felt seeing the sparkle in Farrah’s eyes and hearing the animation in her voice.
Farrah blushed.
Blake’s stomach did a slow roll. He thought he’d gotten over the silly things his body did when he was around her. After all, he’d had enough sex the past three days to get any girl out of his system.
Guess not.
Farrah grabbed water. “Isn’t that how you feel about football?”
The warmth dissipated. Blake leaned back and fiddled with his own glass. “If that were true, I’d still be on the team.”
“You were so good. Or so I heard.” Farrah shrugged. “I don’t follow football.”
A smile touched his lips. “Thank god. I’m the opposite of you—good at what I did, didn’t particularly like it. Not enough to do it for the next ten, twenty years of my life.”
“That’s why you quit?”
Blake swallowed. “It’s part of it.”
Fortunately, Farrah didn’t press him on the issue. Unfortunately, she asked him a harder question. “If not football, then what do you want to do?”
Blake remembered his excitement at The End Zone. He’d thought he could do it—start his own business. After sleeping on it, it seemed ridiculous. Sure, he’d already designed the menu in his mind, and he had a million ideas for marketing and how he wanted the place to look, but dreams don’t require capital. Businesses do.
The only capital he had was a couple thousand bucks in savings. A liquor license alone cost more than that.
Blake forced himself to smile bigger. “I’ll figure it out.”
