Page 168 of Faking the Goal

"Absolutely not," I say.

Mom shakes her head innocently. "Of course not."

Taylor looks between us for a few seconds before groaning and covering her face with both hands.

"I've been scammed by the Azumas."

Mom laughs and reaches over to pat her arm.

And judging by the way some of the tension finally leaves Taylor's shoulders, she doesn't seem nearly as upset about it as she wants us to believe.

*****

I'm supposed to be reading.

At least that's what anyone looking in my direction would assume.

I've been occupying the same corner table by the window for nearly an hour now, a mug of coffee sitting beside me, Volume Six of Blue Lock open in front of me, and yet I've somehow managed to reread the same page four different times without retaining a single word.

Because I'm not really reading.

I'm watching Taylor.

She moves quietly through the aisles with a small cart stacked with newly arrived manga, pausing every few steps to slide another volume into its proper place on the shelf. Every now and then she stops to compare the ISBN on her clipboard with the one on the spine before making a neat checkmark and moving on to the next title. She's been working here for the past few days, doing inventory, stocking new arrivals, and reorganizing sections that keep getting fucked up because apparently some people are incapable of putting a book back where they found it. Despite how repetitive the work is, she never seems to mind.

Every so often, a customer politely asks where they can find a particular series, and she smiles before leading them to the right shelf, lingering just long enough to make sure they've found what they were looking for before quietly returning to her cart. She has no idea I've spent the better part of the morning pretending to read while making sure she never leaves my line of sight.

Normally, I'd be holed up in my room to read where it's quiet, away from everyone, but that was before some deranged asshole decided to make Taylor his obsession.

Now I'd rather sacrifice my privacy than spend the whole time wondering whether she's okay.

Over the weekend, I bought a security camera and installed it outside Taylor's apartment after we found out the building's camera was basically fucking useless. If this asshole shows up again to leave flowers, gifts, notes, or whatever twisted shit he thinks passes for affection, I want his face on camera. I want proof that he was standing outside her fucking door and anything else we can hand over to the police that might finally put a name to him.

So far, nothing.

For the past few days, the camera hasn't caught anyone lingering outside her door, and no packages have appeared. I've made a point of being here whenever Taylor works, and I walk her home after every shift whether she thinks it's necessary or not. She stopped arguing about that part after the second day, which I'm choosing to count as progress.

The last time the asshole contacted her was the night after she worked at Velvet, when she found that disgusting box waiting for her.

I don't even want to think about what was inside it. Every time I do, the rage that's been sitting in my chest for weeks starts clawing its way higher, and I have to remind myself that punching a wall won't get us any closer to finding him.

In his text, he sounded furious about finding out she had a boyfriend.

UNKNOWN

A boyfriend? I thought you were waiting for me, Kitten. I can't believe you'd do this to me.

Taylor didn't answer.

She never does.

And since then... nothing.

The first night Taylor and I showed up together as a couple was at that party at the football house, and we made damn sure we stayed practically glued together the entire night. By the time we left, there probably wasn't a person in that place who didn't believe Taylor Lewis and Kentaro Azuma were ridiculously fucking into each other.

Which was the whole point.

News about us spread fast after that, and judging by how quickly this asshole found out she had a boyfriend, there's a good chance he saw the pictures or heard about us almost immediately.