If We Ever Meet Again (If Love 1)

“It’s one of the most prestigious internships in finance,” Olivia said. “CB Lippmann accepts ten interns every summer. Ten! Do you know how many people apply? Ten thousand. That’s a 0.001% acceptance rate.”

“I doubt ten thousand people apply every year.” Farrah tugged on the zipper, praying it won’t break. Sweat broke out on her forehead. Forget the gym. Packing was a whole workout unto itself.

“Fine, that may be an exaggeration, but there are at least a thousand applicants. That’s still an infinitesimal acceptance rate.”

“You are the smartest, most hardworking person I know. If you don’t get it, the game’s rigged.”

“Babe, this is Wall Street. Of course the game’s rigged.”

The zipper gave way without warning. The unexpected force knocked Farrah on her ass. “Shit!”

Olivia burst into laughter. She stood up and grabbed Farrah’s hand, hauling her off the floor.

“I was waiting for that to happen.”

“Thanks a lot.” Farrah pushed her carry-on into a standing position. Oof. “This is probably over the weight limit.”

Olivia nudged the case with her foot. It didn’t budge. “It’s definitely over the weight limit.”

“I hope the airline doesn’t check.” It was a risk, but Farrah sure as hell wasn’t going to repack. It was close to midnight, and their flight left at eight tomorrow morning.

“Speaking of summer internships, how’s your portfolio going? It’s due in January, right?”

Olivia reclaimed her seat on Farrah’s bed. Farrah had replaced the lumpy white comforter with a pretty pink one she found at a local market. Add pink, white, and gray velvet throw pillows, a framed sketch on the wall, and two tiny succulents on the nightstand, and the place looked a lot more inviting.

Her roommate Janice kept the original bedding and didn’t decorate at all. Looking at the two sides of their room was like looking at a before and after picture.

Farrah itched to do something about Janice’s bare walls, but a) Janice was never there for her to bring it up, and b) she didn’t want to overstep her boundaries.

She’ll have to make do with half a decorated room.

“Yeah. I’m making progress.” Farrah was close to completing her second design, a restaurant inspired by the stark, contemporary lines and splashes of bright color she’d seen at M50. She’ll need to tweak it, but at least she knew what she was doing. She had no idea what to do for the third design.

“Must be all the gallery hopping last weekend,” Olivia quipped. “Alone time is good for the soul.”

Farrah coughed. “Right. Alone time.”

She hadn’t told her friends about her excursion with Blake. It wasn’t like they went on a date. It wasn’t worth bringing up.

Her discomfort didn’t go unnoticed.

Olivia narrowed her eyes. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.” Farrah swiped her sketchbook from her desk. “Hey, wanna look at my designs and tell me what you think?”

“Yes, after you tell me what you’re hiding. Oh my god, did you meet someone last weekend?” Olivia clutched Farrah’s arm, her eyes wide with excitement. “Are you having a secret affair?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m with you guys all the time. The logistics wouldn’t work.”

“You weren’t with us Sunday.”

Farrah sighed. Once Olivia got an idea in her head, she was like a pit bull with a bone. “Fine. If you must know, I ran into Blake on my way out and, on the spur of the moment—meaning it wasn’t planned—I asked him to join me. We went to a few galleries and came back. The end.”

Olivia’s grip tightened. “You’re having a secret affair with Blake Ryan!”

“I am not!” Farrah wrenched her arm away and shook it out. “Jesus, you cut off my circulation.”

“Don’t change the subject. You spent an entire day with Blake and didn’t tell us about it. Why?” Olivia wiggled her eyebrows. “What naughty things did you get up to?”