“Twice in one night.” Blake winked at Farrah. “I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me.”
“I was here first.”
“That’s what they all say.” Blake handed Farrah a bottle of beer. “Drink?”
“I don’t like beer.”
“C’mon, live a little. Get outside your comfort zone.”
“Drinking beer is hardly living.” Nevertheless, Farrah swiped the Tsingtao from him. His hand brushed hers, and another electric current sizzled over her skin.
She popped open the cap and took a swig, grimacing at the taste.
Blake laughed at her expression. “You really don’t like beer.”
“It tastes like urine.”
“How do you know what urine tastes like?”
Farrah took another swig. “I can’t talk to you. You’re exhausting.”
“That’s ok. There are other things we can do besides talk. Can’t guarantee they’ll be less exhausting, though.”
Blake sat across from her. Even in a plain black V-neck tee and jeans, he looked like he just stepped off the cover of GQ. The shirt showed off his broad shoulders and muscular arms, and his skin glowed golden in the bar’s dim lighting.
Blake caught her staring and flashed a cocky grin. “Like what you see?” he mouthed.
“I’ve seen better,” she mouthed back. She had. In the sculpture sections of Italy’s art museums.
Blake smirked with the confidence of someone who knew he was the hottest guy in the room.
Luke said something to him. When Blake turned his head to reply, Olivia grabbed Farrah’s arm. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“That.” She gestured at Blake. “I almost melted from the sexual tension.”
“Ha! You’ve been drinking too much.” Farrah had never heard anything more absurd. “There was no sexual tension.”
“Oh, honey. Yes, there was. Why deny it? Blake is hot.” Olivia lowered her voice. “He’ll help you get over you-know-who. Like they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”
For the first time in her life, Farrah was thankful for the red flush that took over her face every time she drank alcohol. It concealed the heated embarrassment on her cheeks.
“He’s not my type.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s every girl’s type.”
Farrah sighed. She was tired of hearing that.
“Guys, look what Luke brought.” Courtney waved a deck of cards in the air. “What do you say? Y’all up for a game of Kings?”
“Hell yeah! I’m the king of Kings.” Luke pounded his chest. “Bring it on.”
“Your resemblance to a gorilla is remarkable,” Kris observed.
“Bite me.”
“You wish.”
“Children, settle down.” Courtney shuffled the cards and spread them, face-down, around the bottle of baijiu they smuggled in. It’d been sitting there unopened for the past hour. The staff didn’t seem to care, but no one in the group had the guts to open it. Baijiu, which ranged from eighty to one hundred twenty proof, was the Chinese equivalent of moonshine. It was no joke.
“Normal rules, yeah? Ace is waterfall, two you, three me, four floor…” Courtney ran through the instructions in one breath.
“I agree except for one thing,” Blake spoke up. “Ace is Hot Seat. Whoever draws it has to answer one question from every other player. Honestly.”
“Oooh.” A grin spread across Courtney’s face. “I like that. I like that a lot.”
Farrah narrowed her eyes. Blake would be the type to barge in and change the rules.
The game heated up. Everyone took turns pulling a card, each of which came with a predetermined rule. For the first few rounds, Farrah pulled innocuous cards such as a ten (categories) and a five (all guys drink).
Her luck ran out in the fifth round.
After Olivia pulled a three (me, which meant she had to drink), it was Farrah’s turn. She examined the remaining cards. Her hand hovered over the one closest to her before she changed her mind and plucked a card from the other side. She flipped it over.
An ace. The first of the night.
The table erupted into cheers.
Farrah groaned. “I hate you guys.”
“No one forced you to choose that card. It was fate,” Sammy teased.
“Yeah, yeah.” Farrah resigned herself to her so-called fate. She spread her arms. “I’m ready. Have at it.”
They did. Her friends peppered her with rapid-fire questions. As expected, most were sexual but harmless.
Ever have a threesome? Nope.
Weirdest hookup spot? Lifeguard stand at the beach (depending on how you interpret the word “hookup”).
Celebrity fantasy? Ian Somerhalder or Henry Cavill. Or both. Farrah added that last part as a joke, though it earned her a few speculative glances from the guys.
Men. So predictable.
Blake asked the next question. “If you could hook up with one person in the program, who would it be?”
Farrah froze. Everyone stared at her expectantly as she worked to keep her face expressionless and her gaze from flicking in Leo’s direction. She was convinced any movement on her part would give it away. She thought about making something up, but she didn’t want someone thinking she had a crush on them when she didn’t.
Lie or take the shot? On the one hand, the smell of baijiu alone made her want to vomit. On the other…
Fuck it.
Farrah picked up the baijiu, poured the clear liquid into an empty shot glass, and knocked it back straight, holding her breath so she didn’t have to inhale its fuel-like odor.
Her friends burst into a spontaneous round of applause. Blake was the only one who didn’t clap. Instead, he watched her drink with a knowing smirk.
Farrah grimaced as the cheap, fiery liquid burned its way down her throat. Why the hell did Chinese people like baijiu so much? It smelled and tasted like rubbing alcohol.
Olivia handed her a glass of water, which she downed in five seconds. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. The urge to vomit subsided, but the alcohol’s brutal aftertaste lingered.
“You are a champ.” Sammy reached around Olivia to pat her on the back.
“You that desperate to hide something from us?” Leo joked.
Farrah played it cool with a shrug and a smile. “No follow-up questions,” she reminded him. She avoided his gaze.
Leo held up his hands in surrender. “Ok. Here’s an easy one. What’s your number?”
Aka the number of people she’d slept with.
She paused before answering. “Zero.”
Olivia knew this, so she didn’t blink an eye, but the rest of the table stared at Farrah like she’d grown another head.
“You’re shitting me,” Luke said.
“Nope.” Farrah lifted her chin with equal parts embarrassment and defiance. A nineteen-year-old virgin from L.A. was a novelty these days, but she wasn’t a prude. She had experience on all the bases. She’d just never hit a home run.
“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Olivia said loyally.
“Of course not.” Farrah couldn’t tell whether Leo was impressed, amused, or bemused. “You’re ready when you’re ready. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”