Page 97 of The Switch: A Friends To Lovers Romance

Ashanti commented on Weng’s strange behavior in the taxi that night as Luke dropped her home. “You don’t think he was being extra weird?”

“Who? Weng?” Luke asked, fiddling on his phone. “He’s a moody teenager. He was just living up to that.”

“You’re right.”

Luke threw his arms around her and brought her closer. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s been a month since we started dating. You tired of me yet?”

“No.”

“You sure.”

“Ask me that question next month or next year or the next ten years and I’ll have the same answer. I love you, Luke. And I’m never, ever letting you go.”

“Good.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, running his thumb up her arm soothingly.

Luke wasn’t the type of guy who declared his love everyday, but Ashanti knew that was a part of his personality and culture. In all the ways that counted, Luke Zhang was hopelessly in love with her and, in the end, that was all that mattered.

Epilogue

“WHERE ARE YOU?”

“I’m driving past Marine Parade, Ash. I can basically see your house from here. Would you calm down?”

“I AM CALM!”

“Of course you are.” Luke yanked the steering wheel as he turned the curb like a racecar driver. “How did you bust your kitchen pipe again?”

“Okay, first of all, I resent that. It’s obviously the plumber’s fault for not fixing it right the first time. Second of all, you can scold me all you want later, but Dad was already a nervous wreck when he left to pick up his girlfriend from the airport and if he comes back to a flooded house, he’ll have a heart attack.”

He spotted the red-trimmed roof of Ashanti’s bungalow and parked the car in her cobbled driveway. “I’m here.”

“Thank God.”

Luke hung up and threw his car door open. He raced up the stairs. The wind chimes hanging on Ashanti’s porch provided the perfect, frantic soundtrack to his urgency.

The front door flew open and Ashanti appeared, chest heaving and black curls wild about her face. She wore a blue dress that hugged her body and showed off her long, brown legs.

Luke’s sharp brown eyes dipped over her as he skidded to a stop. “Whoa.”

“What?”

“You’re,” Luke breathed hard because the sight of Ashanti generally took his breath away, “gorgeous.”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. “That’s nice. Now can you fix the pipe? I already put dad’s toolbox on the table.”

He frowned at the water gushing from the sink. It was already beginning to skid over the sides. “My clothes will get wet!”

“I like seeing you without them so that doesn’t bother me,” Ashanti said glibly. “Now… the faucet? Please?”

Luke scowled and folded the sleeves of his fancy white shirt. He approached the pipe with a wrench, grumbling—“You were the one who told me to dress up in the first place.”

Ten minutes later, he’d whipped up a temporary solution and helped Ashanti dry the bit of water that had fallen to the floor.

When they were done, she pushed her hair up and grinned. “Thanks, Luke. I was freaking out so much when the faucet came off in my hand.”

He grabbed a towel and ran it through his hair. The water had spurted into his face and soaked the front of his shirt earlier. “I don’t want your empty words. Pay up.”

Ashanti stepped closer and kissed him. When she moved away, he thrust her back to him and kissed her deeply. This time, she kept her eyes closed, visibly trying to recover.

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