If We Ever Meet Again (If Love 1)

Blake was so busy fantasizing about the jianbing he didn’t notice the girl walking in front of him until they were in the courtyard.

Long, dark hair. Slim, curvy figure. Posture Emily Post would be proud of.

Well, he’ll be damned. “Farrah!”

Farrah stopped. When she turned, she wore an exasperated look on her face. “Hi.”

“You’re up early.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“I usually get up earlier, but we had a late night.” Blake smiled, remembering how adorable Farrah looked when she was sleepy.

Wait. Adorable? Where the hell did that come from?

Girls his age weren’t adorable. They were beautiful (relatives) or sexy (non-relatives). Adorable did not figure into the equation.

Not that Farrah wasn’t beautiful or sexy, but—

Dude. Stop while you’re ahead.

Blake cleared his throat. The hunger must be getting to him. “So, where are you off to?”

Farrah wore an orange dress that was far too nice for a quick breakfast run. She held a milk tea in one hand and had a sketchbook tucked beneath her other arm.

“I’m going to explore a little.”

“Without your girls?”

“They’re sleeping. Well, Olivia isn’t, but she’s working on internship applications.” Farrah paused. Sipped her drink. Then, “Do you want to join me?”

Blake nearly fell over at the invitation. He wasn’t sure Farrah even liked him, and now she was inviting him to hang out with her.

He shouldn’t. He was hungry as hell and he had a date with the gym. He hated going there after 10 am, when it filled up with guys who were more interested in gym selfies than working out. Besides, Blake didn’t like the way his body reacted around Farrah. It was different than the typical sexual attraction—though that was certainly there—and it freaked him out.

“You don’t have to,” Farrah said. “If you have other plans—”

“I’d love to.” I hope I don’t regret this. “As long as we make a quick detour for breakfast.”

“Making demands already,” she teased. “Why am I not surprised?”

Blake led the way to the back gate. He’d walked this path so many times he could do it with his eyes closed.

“Breakfast is a reasonable request. More reasonable than bubble tea at 8:30 in the morning.”

Farrah clutched her drink to her chest as they approached the jianbing stand. “Don’t judge. This doesn’t have boba, so it’s technically not bubble tea. Even if it is, bubble tea is appropriate at all hours of the day.”

“Fine. But we’re also getting you

a proper breakfast.” Blake turned to the vendor, whose eyes brightened with recognition. “Liang ge jidan, wei la.” Two eggs, mildly spicy. No need to specify the jianbing part in your order—that was a given.

He wasn’t fluent in Chinese yet, but he was fluent in the language that counts: food.

Blake paid the vendor and handed Farrah one of the jianbings. “This will change your life.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m Chinese. I’ve had jian—oh my god.”

“Told ya.” They walked to the metro. “Is it good or is it good?”