“Come here.” Blake sat on the edge of her bed and patted his lap.
She curled up in his embrace, soaking up the familiarity like it was a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a windowless room for weeks.
“Tell me about your break.” The deep timbre of his voice caused her to shiver with happiness.
“It was good. I ate a lot. Caught up with friends. The usual. I told you everything exciting that happened.” Skype wasn’t the same as seeing each other in person, but it was better than nothing. “Except for one thing.”
“Really?” Blake’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “What is it?”
“I’ll show you.” Farrah fished her sketchbook from her nightstand drawer at the same time. She flipped it open to her final design concept for the IDAA contest. “I finished this over winter break and submitted my portfolio last week.” Her pulse raced with nerves. “That’s it. It’s out of my hands.”
“Holy shit,” Blake breathed. He brushed his fingers over the sketch. “Farrah, this is incredible.”
After agonizing over the third design for months, Farrah woke up in the middle of the night with a crystal-clear vision of what she wanted to do. She started sketching and didn’t stop until she finished the entire thing, afraid to pause lest the inspiration leave her.
“Thanks.” Farrah struggled to contain her grin. “I’m really proud of it.”
She didn’t bother trying to be humble, because she was proud of her work. It was one of her favorite designs, bar none.
Farrah scrapped her earlier traditional hotel suite idea and shifted to island villa theme that leaned on natural colors, flowy fabrics, and open spaces: soft, billowing curtains around the bed and draped across the ceiling; an open-air living room with an organic-shaped wood coffee table and natural fiber furniture; indigenous artwork and aqua accents that picked up on the pale blues of the sea.
Interior design isn’t about how a space looks; it’s about how it makes you feel. Farrah’s villa may not exist in real life, but just looking at the sketch evoked a sense of freedom, adventure, and happiness.
Hopefully, the NIDA judges agreed.
“I wish we were there right now.” Blake brushed his fingers over the sketch. “Just the two of us on a secluded island, where nothing can touch us.”
“Maybe one day.” Farrah’s stomach fluttered. “Do you think I can win?”
“Are you kidding?” Blake brushed his lips over hers. “I’m no design expert, but I can tell this is something special. You will win. It’s not a question.”
She smiled at his confidence. “You should’ve been a cheerleader instead of a football player.”
Blake broke into laughter. “You’re right. I messed up.”
“Anyway, enough about me. How was Austin?”
“Fine.” He hesitated. “I have news too. I found an investor for the bar.”
Farrah’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s amazing! Who? How? Tell me everything!”
He chuckled at her giddiness. “Don’t get too excited. It’s my buddy Landon, so it’s not like I convinced a big-time businessman I don’t know to invest. His family is huge in the hospitality world, and he came into half his trust when he turned twenty-one. He’s trying to show his mom he knows what he’s doing, so we’re going halves on the bar.” Blake grinned. “Plus he’s a great friend.”
“That’s still incredible.” Farrah couldn’t contain her excitement. She witnessed firsthand how hard Blake worked these past few months. She’d read his business plan. She saw the way his eyes lit up when he talked about the bar. His venture was going to be a success. She was sure of it. “I’m so proud of you. Your family must be too.”
“I guess. My sister is. My mom’s coming around. My dad is skeptical. He thinks the only thing I’m good at is football.” Despite his casual tone, Farrah detected the hurt beneath his words.
Anger flashed through her. She’d never met Joe Ryan, but she was going to give that man a piece of her mind when she saw him. “Fuck your dad. He’s trying to sabotage your dreams before you even get them off the ground, and I am. Not. Here. For. It.”
Blake’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “You’re adorable when you’re angry.”
“I’m serious!” She pounded the mattress with her fist. “Don’t let him do that to you.”
“I don’t want to complain too much.” Blake rubbed his thumb over her locket. “I know I’m lucky my dad is still around.”
Her anger melted away, replaced by an ache in her heart. God, she loved this boy. “If you’re worried about me, don’t be. My relationship with my father was different. I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to mend fences with your dad; he is still your dad. But do not let him discourage you. You’re capable of great things, Blake Ryan. Don’t forget that.”
Blake’s eyes darkened with emotion. “I don’t deserve you. You know that?” He pulled her in tight and rested his cheek on top of her head.
Farrah closed her eyes, soaking in the warm strength of his embrace. “I know.”
“I love you.” There was a strange undercurrent in his voice, a shakiness that was not like Blake.
Old Farrah would’ve latched onto that minute detail and overanalyzed the heck out of it, but New Farrah convinced herself it was her imagination.
FEA was in session again, the group was reunited, and she and Blake were back together. It was going to be an amazing semester, and she wasn’t going to waste it worrying about demons that didn’t exist.
“I love you too.”
Their lips met in a tender promise. Blake felt the same, smelled the same, and tasted the same—like rich, dark chocolate. Like sin and desire. Like the stars and dreams. He tasted like Blake.
Her Blake.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Blake felt like shit.
He woke up with cottonmouth and a granddaddy of a hangover. Gatorade and a carb-filled breakfast helped with the physical symptoms, but he still felt like shit, and it had nothing to do with drinking too much yesterday.
The urge to regurgitate that morning’s jianbing forced him to clamp his mouth shut until it passed, yet his stomach remained queasy.
“Whose bright idea was it to come here after last night?” Luke flinched when the steel drummers banged their instruments.
The sound pierced through Blake’s head like a drill through drywall.
“It’s the New Year, Luke! Cheer up.” Courtney swung Leo’s hand back and forth, giddy as a schoolgirl.
“New Year’s was weeks ago.”
“This is the Lunar New Year. Don’t be so American.”
Luke became grumpier. “I am American. A hungover American.”
“You’re free to go back to the dorm any time you want.”
He fell silent.
The group wandered through the crowded pathways of Yuyuan Garden. Everyone and their mother (and father and grandparents and siblings) were out in full force for the Garden’s annual Spring Lantern Festival.
Lanterns of various sizes, colors, and shapes hung from every imaginable perch—roofs, ceilings, doorways, balconies. Massive pig-themed installations served as an ode to the Year of the Pig and dazzled viewers with their sheer size and intricacy. There were activities for all kinds of attendees—lion and dragon dances for the entertainment-minded, lantern riddles for the intellectually oriented, and traditional New Year sweets for the culinary-obsessed.