If We Ever Meet Again (If Love Book 1)

Goosebumps peppered Farrah’s skin. She rubbed her arms and shivered from a combination of cold and dread.

“You didn’t go to dinner.” Blake unlocked his door, shoulders tense and jaw set.

“No.” Farrah followed him inside and sat down on the empty bed opposite his. Normally she would’ve curled up in Blake’s bed and waited for him to join her, but that no longer felt right.

Blake shoved his wallet in a drawer and tidied the books on his desk. He centered his laptop and lined up his pencils until they sat parallel to each other. Only then did he sit across from Farrah, his face shuttered. Only a few feet separated them, but they may as well be sitting on opposite sides of a canyon.

Farrah’s trouble radar inched closer to the danger zone. “We haven’t talked in a while.”

After her birthday, Blake disappeared off the map. He stopped going out, ate without the group, and answered her texts and invitations with curt excuses. She couldn’t find him in his room or, if he was there, he didn’t answer the door.

Farrah tried to wait it out. If Blake needed time alone to sort out personal issues, she respected that. She would’ve preferred more communication, but everyone handled problems their own way.

However, they were entering the third week of Incommunicado Blake, and she’d reached the end of her patience. Every second they had left in Shanghai counted, and they’d wasted millions of seconds.

Enough was enough. She wanted answers.

Blake rested his forearms on his knees and clasped his hands together. He stared at the floor like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “I’ve been busy.”

Farrah resisted the urge to throw a pillow at him. “With?”

“Classes. Bar plans. That sort of thing.”

That old refrain again. He sounded like a broken record.

Anger sharpened Farrah’s senses. She was tired of his excuses, of the uncertainty, and of feeling like crap because her boyfriend went AWOL. She wanted to know what the fuck was going on. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Blake’s head snapped up. Pain and surprise flickered across his face before his expression shut down.

Despite her irritation, Farrah’s heart leapt at the sight of those beautiful blue eyes, then shriveled like a prune at the lack of feeling in them.

“Tell me the truth.” She forced the words past the lump in her throat. “You can trust me.”

The bigger question was, could she trust him? Farrah hated doubting him, but it was hard not to lose faith when the love of your life avoided you like you had the plague.

Blake’s shoulders hunched. Tension rolled off him in waves. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were as hard and cold as the walls surrounding them.

Farrah’s stomach plummeted.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was flat and empty. “I didn’t want to do it like this, but I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Time stopped. Blake’s words swirled around her, threatening to drag her under yet refusing to sink in.

Farrah’s body reacted first, her heart slamming against her chest in double time while her brain struggled to process the implications of Blake’s statement.

“What?”

“It was fun while it lasted, but the year is almost over and I—I’m not interested anymore. I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“You’re lying.” He had to be. There was no way. No way she could’ve been so wrong.

The past seven months flashed through Farrah’s mind’s eye like a movie playing at two times speed. Their first run-in in the stairwell. Their first kiss. Their first time having sex. The first time they said “I love you.” The secrets they shared, the places they explored, the nights they spent in each other’s arms.

She struggled to breathe. The air thickened into a dark, ugly ooze, making it impossible for oxygen to reach her lungs. There were so many thoughts running through her mind she couldn’t focus, so Farrah grasped at the easiest one to swallow.

Blake was lying. She’d looked into his eyes and seen the love there. She’d felt it. You couldn’t fake that kind of emotion.

He stiffened. “I’m not.”

“You are.” Farrah didn’t know who she was trying to convince more, him or herself. “You said you loved me.”

“I lied.”

Farrah inhaled sharply. True or not, those two words sliced through her like a knife.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Do. Not. Fucking. Cry.

“You’re full of shit.” Her voice trembled with uncertainty. “Look at you. You’re shaking.”

Blake clenched his hands into fists. His knuckles turned white. “Farrah.” His voice sounded like a bomb going off in the silence. “I got back with my ex-girlfriend over the holidays. I didn’t know how to tell you. I love her, and I made a mistake here. With us. But I’m trying to fix it.”

A sob escaped. The temperature dropped another twenty degrees, and a strange roaring filled her ears. The fist around her heart squeezed, and right as she was about to explode from the pain, it released its grip and shattered everything in its wake.

I need to get out of here.

Yet Farrah’s feet remained glued in place as she tried to comprehend what was happening. The Blake in front of her wasn’t the Blake she knew. He was so stoic, so unsympathetic, she wondered whether this was a nightmare or if the past seven months had been a dream.

“I’m sorry.”

That broke the spell.

“Stop saying that!” Blake’s eyes widened. Farrah gripped her necklace tight with one hand until the metal dug painful grooves into her palm. “It was all a lie then, this past year.”

Blake looked away.

“Why? Why did you pretend you cared? Was it some sick joke? You wanted to see whether I’d be gullible enough to fall for you? Well, congratu-fucking-lations.” Tears burned her eyes. “You won. Blake Ryan, the champion. Your father was right. You shouldn’t have quit. No one plays the game better than you.”

A tear slipped out and scalded her cheek. Farrah wiped it away angrily. She’d already given him too much. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry too.

Blake may as well be carved from marble for all the emotion he showed. “I’m sor—”

Her blood bubbled with rage. “If you say ‘I’m sorry’ one more time,” she hissed. “I’ll go to the kitchen, come back, and cut your balls off with a rusty knife. In fact, I may do that anyway. You’re a fucking asshole. I’m sorry I wasted all this time on you, and I’m sorrier for your girlfriend. She deserves better.”

Farrah summoned the strength to stand. She walked to the door, praying her legs wouldn’t give out before she reached the hallway. She gripped the doorknob and turned around for a last look at Blake.

Other than the slight tremble in his shoulders, he sat there unmoving, face blank.

Blake Ryan. Her first love. Her first lover. Her first heartbreak.

Farrah closed the door with a soft “click.” Her feet moved. One step, two steps, and so on until she reached her room. The ringing in her ears pounded in sync with her steps.

She prayed Janice wasn’t there. She was.

Lady Luck hated her today.

Janice glanced up when Farrah entered before she dove back into her book. A second later, her head popped up again. Her brow furrowed with worry. “Are you ok?”

“Yes.” Farrah smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. “I’m fine. I’m great. I’m—I’m—”

The alarm mounted on Janice’s face.

“I—” Farrah’s anger faded like a flame losing oxygen.

No. Don’t you dare fucking leave.

She grabbed at the remaining tendrils of fury with desperate hands. They were the only things left holding her together, but she may as well have tried to grab sand. They slipped through her fingers until there was nothing left.

“I’m—” Pain rushed in to fill the void. Incredible, soul-crushing pain, the kind that forced her to double over it hurt so much. The dam she’d erected to keep her tears at bay collapsed, sending streams of liquid grief down her cheeks.

That was it.

Farrah curled up into a ball on the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest and sobbed—huge, wracking sobs that shook her body but made nary a noise. Her stomach ached. Her sides ached. Her heart ached so much she was sure she was dying.

All the while, her brain tortured her with memories.

“Whatever happens, we can get through it together.”

“I love you.”

“Never forget how much I love you.”

It seemed so real, so sincere. Farrah didn’t just love Blake; she trusted him. She trusted him enough not only to give him her virginity but her heart. Turns out he’d been playing her this entire time.

I am such an idiot.

Farrah buried her face in her knees, struggling to breathe between sobs. Her mouth dried and her eyes burned, but she couldn’t stop. It was too much.

Everything—the pain, the embarrassment, the shock—it was too much.

Janice sat next to her on the floor and, even though the two girls hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words to each other since the year began, she placed her arm around Farrah’s shoulders and stayed with her until Farrah ran out of tears to cry.