Page 297 of Faking the Goal

His smile deepens as though he can see every catastrophic thought currently stampeding through my brain.

Then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the tip of my nose.

Before I can recover from that, he pushes himself upright and rises smoothly to his skates. He extends one hand toward me.

"Come on."

I stare at his outstretched hand, then up at him. "You realize I may never emotionally recover from this."

"You'll survive."

"Easy for you to say. Liam didn't just catch you underneath someone while they performed an illegal pelvic maneuver."

Kentaro's mouth twitches. "Illegal?"

"Morally questionable at minimum."

He laughs and closes his hand around mine, carefully pulling me to my feet. The instant my shoes wobble, his other arm circles my waist, steadying me against him.

Which does absolutely nothing to improve the condition of my face.

Or my sanity.

Kentaro keeps his arm around my waist even after I find my balance, and when I look up, he's already watching me.

For a moment, neither of us says anything.

His smile is still there, softer now, and mine slowly finds its way back as the embarrassment from Liam's interruption begins to fade. But the words Kentaro said before he showed up haven't faded with it.

I've been trying to tell you that I like you.

Just thinking about them sends another ridiculous burst of happiness through me.

He likes me.

Kentaro fucking Azuma likes me.

And I like him too. God, I like him so much that keeping it to myself suddenly feels impossible, especially when he's standing here looking at me like that.

"Ken-chan?"

"Hmm?"

I wet my lips, suddenly nervous despite the smile I can't seem to get rid of. "About what you said before Liam came in..."

Voices spill into the rink from somewhere beyond the locker-room doors, followed by the heavy thud of another duffel hitting the floor and several sets of footsteps.

Of course.

Kentaro glances toward the sound before looking back at me. "What were you going to say?"

I almost tell him anyway.

But more voices join the first, getting louder as his teammates make their way toward the rink, and I shake my head with a small smile.

"Nothing. It can wait."

His brows pull together. "Taylor—"