Farrah swallowed and wiped her mouth. “Fine. But no laughing. Promise.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
As Farrah recounted her story, Blake had to call on every shred of willpower not to burst into laughter. Jesus, her date sounded like something out of the movies.
“I can’t believe you threw a drink in his face,” he chortled.
“Neither can I, but he was such a jerk.” Farrah side-eyed him. “Why do you look so happy?”
“I’m not happy,” Blake said with a wide grin. His earlier anger toward Justin had simmered down…though he would still punch his so-called friend in the face for trying to get into Farrah’s pants if he had the chance.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying my misery.” She nudged him with her foot, and his stomach did a stupid little flip.
“Hey, it all turned out for the best. You’re not miserable now, are you?”
“No,” she said with no small amount of reluctance. “I’m not.”
Their gazes met. Blake’s heartbeat ratcheted up another notch. Her eyes never failed to mesmerize him. They held him willing captive, sucking him in until he got lost in their endless dark depths.
In that moment, he could almost imagine they were on a date. The banter, the laughter, the sizzle of awareness between them…it felt like old times.
That adage about time healing all wounds? Bullshit.
There’d been a hole in Blake’s heart since the day he and Farrah broke up, and no matter how many years passed, it remained as empty as ever.
Until now.
Farrah tried to hide it, but Blake spotted a flicker of emotion in her eyes. It wasn’t love—not the love that used to fill him with so much warmth he thought he’d never need the sun again. But it was the first crack in her icy mask since they’d reunited, and it was enough to send hope spiraling through his chest and into the space her love used to occupy.
Chapter Eleven
Six (ish) hours later
This was a Bad Idea. Capital B, capital I.
Farrah wasn’t sure how she ended up snuggled into a dark booth at one in the morning with the ex-love of her life, but she was sure it didn’t bode well for her heart.
Perhaps her ill-advised suggestion to check out a new lounge in Chelsea had something to do with the fact that she was a little drunk. Red wine, multiple vodka sodas, and a tequila shot would do that to you.
Fortunately (or unfortunately), Farrah was too intoxicated to consider the consequences of her actions.
She tapped her finger on her chin, trying to think of something good. “Never Have I Ever…Googled my own name.”
It was their third round of a game they’d played often in Shanghai. Farrah hadn’t played it since she graduated from college, but it was a nice throwback to her young, wild days.
“Bullshit. Everyone’s Googled their own name.” Blake narrowed his eyes at the smirk on Farrah’s face. “No? What kind of person are you?” He took a pull of his whiskey.
“One who has no interest in what the internet has to say about her. Tell me the truth. How many times do you Google yourself a day? Two? Three?”
He rolled his sleeves up. “What kind of person do you think I am? Five. Minimum.”
The laugh burst out of Farrah’s chest, unexpected and genuine. Blake’s chuckle joined hers not long after.
The buzz, the lighting, the music…they were doing things to her. Lowering her inhibitions, making her forget the bad memories. They still lurked in her subconscious, but they didn’t hurt as much, which was why Farrah asked the question she’d been dying to ask since she first laid eyes on Blake again.
“Are you still with her?”
She didn’t think so. She’d seen no signs of another person living in Blake’s condo, and if he and his girlfriend were still together, they wouldn’t live in different cities. Not when he had a choice of where to settle down.