As the wee morning hours wore on, FEAers trickled out of Gino’s in waves. Some had early flights; some had other activities in mind.
Luke and Janice were the first to leave. He winked at Blake on his way past while Janice nuzzled his neck. As far as Blake knew, they’d spoken less than ten words to each other before tonight.
Ending the semester with a bang—literally. Good for them.
Courtney, Kris, Leo and Olivia left next. They all ignored Blake except Leo, who acknowledged him with a slight chin tilt.
By the time the clock struck two, most of FEA had left.
Except Farrah.
Worry niggled at Blake. He was about to check on her when the door swung open and a sobered-up Sammy stumbled out holding Farrah. Her eyes were half-closed; her head lolled forward on her chest.
“Is she ok?” Unsure of what to do, Blake stood, sat, and stood again.
“Yeah. She should be fine after some rest and water. She fell asleep in there, and Gino’s is about to close.” Sammy propped Farrah up against the railing. “Can you bring her back to the dorm? I have to get Nardo. Last I saw, he was hurling his guts out in the bathroom.”
Blake hesitated. “Sure.” He draped Farrah’s arm over his shoulder and wrapped his free arm around her waist. “Go take care of Nardo.”
“You’re not leaving till tomorrow night, right?”
“Yep.”
“Cool. See you later.”
Sammy disappeared inside while Blake struggled to guide Farrah to a cab. She didn’t weigh much, but it wasn’t easy dragging 115 pounds of dead weight down the stairs and across the street without killing either of them.
Blake finally corralled them into a taxi. The minute they sat down, Farrah dropped her head onto his shoulder. Her soft snores filled the back seat, drowning out the maudlin 80s ballad on the radio.
Blake’s mouth edged up into a smile when he remembered how Farrah used to deny she snored.
Outside, the streets of Shanghai whizzed by in a blur of lights. Blake tried to focus on the passing cityscape instead of the girl next to him. How many times had Farrah rested her head on his shoulder while he held her? It was such a familiar sensation he almost tricked himself into believing they were still a couple.
He didn’t touch her. He was too afraid to even look at her, lest his heart break all over again. Still, he felt like he was taking advantage by stealing these private moments when she wanted nothing to do with him when she was awake.
The cab rolled to a stop in front of the dorm. Blake paid the driver and picked Farrah up bridal-style. He’d learned his lesson; dragging was not the way to go.
Once they arrived at her room, Blake set Farrah on her feet and held her up with one arm while he searched for her key with the other. Fortunately, she carried a small bag instead of one of those cavernous totes girls loved. Blake found the key in no time.
The door clicked open. Janice must’ve gone to Luke’s homestay because her bed was empty.
Blake laid Farrah on her bed and went to work taking off her shoes, setting the garbage can beside her bed, and moving a half-empty water bottle from her desk to her nightstand.
All set.
He allowed himself the luxury of lingering an extra minute. His chest constricted as he looked down at Farrah’s sleeping form. In the past, Farrah always wore a small smile while she slept, like she was so happy the joy followed her into her dreams. Now, her brow furrowed and her mouth turned down at the corners.
Before he could stop himself, Blake smoothed his fingers over her temple, like that would somehow wipe her sadness away.
Farrah’s face relaxed. She sighed and shifted positions.
Blake froze. He needed to leave before she woke up and saw him there.
He turned off the light and—
“Blake,” she murmured.
Shit.
“You promised you wouldn’t leave.” She shifted again. Blake’s eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see hers were still closed, and he realized she was talking in her sleep.
That Farrah was asking for him in her sleep proved she wasn’t as over him as she pretended to be. It should’ve made Blake feel better; it didn’t. It made him want to cry because he understood firsthand how much she must be hurting.
“I know, baby,” he whispered. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “I won’t. You’ll always have a piece of me with you.”
Farrah sighed.
The tightness in his chest intensified. Blake pulled his hand away, but Farrah whimpered and grasped his sleeve. “No. Stay with me…” Her voice trailed off sleepily.
A tear slipped down his cheek, and Blake had to hold his breath so his sob didn’t disturb the silence.
He eased into the bed next to Farrah and held her in his arms. He kept his touch light, lest he wake her. “Ok. I’ll stay with you.” Another tear escaped and landed on her forehead. Blake kissed it away. “I love you, Farrah,” he whispered.
Farrah heaved another, more contented sigh. “Thanks for staying.” She buried her face in his chest, muffling her words. “I love you, Blake.”
By now, the tears were falling too fast for him to wipe away, so he lay there and let them fall. Blake couldn’t stay with Farrah the entire night. It was too risky. But he stayed until her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and she dozed off with a small smile on her face, the way she always did when they were together.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“This is it.”
Farrah and Olivia stared at the dorm, the place where they lived, laughed, and loved for a year, and where Farrah had some of the best—and most heartbreaking—moments of her life.
She was the first of her friends to leave. She’d spent the entire morning saying goodbye—to her friends, to FEA, to everything and everyone she’d loved this past year.
All except one.
Farrah’s chest squeezed.
“We’ll see each other soon,” Olivia said. “We’ll be in New York together this summer.”
“Hopefully.” Farrah hadn’t received her summer assignment yet, but the thought of New York was the only thing keeping her going today.
Farrah, Olivia, and Sammy together in New York. It would be a dream. She didn’t even mind playing third wheel to her friends’ nauseatingly sweet relationship—the only one in their group that lasted the whole year.
But as much as Farrah loved Olivia and Sammy, it wasn’t about the three of them. It was about the collective, and she didn’t have the heart to tell her friend that even if they all somehow met up again, it wouldn’t be the same. They would never be as young and carefree as they were now. They would never live in the same dorm, knowing the others were just a few rooms or a floor down. They couldn’t hop into a cab and grab dinner in the French Concession, or dance the night away in 808, or take spontaneous day trips to a neighboring water town. The magic of the group only existed in this place and moment in time.
What scared Farrah the most was not leaving Shanghai; it was the possibility they’d forget what FEA meant to them. For a year, maybe two or three, they’d reminisce and stay in touch, but what happens after five years, ten years? Shanghai will be just another memory, relegated to the sandbox of time.
Her cab driver, who’d been busy cursing his future son-in-law on the phone, hung up. He got into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine, a clear signal it was time to leave.