Page 300 of Faking the Goal

His arms tighten around my waist.

"I'll be okay," I tell him for what has to be the hundredth time. "I'm staying at the Archer beach house with Caroline and Sam. That place has enough security cameras to qualify as a small government agency."

He remains unconvinced.

"And I won't be alone."

Still unconvinced.

I cup his cheek.

"Conrad's staying too."

That finally earns the smallest crack in his stubbornness.

After I called my boss at the Velvet Lounge and officially told him I was quitting, Conrad stopped by the hockey house yesterday with the rest of my things from my locker. Once he found out Kentaro was leaving for an away game, he volunteered to stay at the Archer beach house for the weekend so Kentaro could focus on hockey instead of spending forty-eight straight hours imagining Charlie hiding behind every decorative palm tree in South Florida.

Which, if I'm being honest, came at exactly the right time.

Because my ridiculously stubborn goalie had reached the point where he was seriously considering skipping the trip altogether.

Coach Hopper would've had a coronary.

I would've committed homicide.

There'd been at least three separate arguments, one lecture from me, one guilt trip from him, and approximately eighty-seven variations of, "I'll be fine," versus, "No, you won't."

Conrad ended the entire debate by casually saying, "I'll stay with her."

Just like that.

The crisis was over.

Well...mostly.

Judging by the expression currently glued to Kentaro's face, he still isn't thrilled about it.

I smile to myself.

Who would've thought the emotionally constipated goalie who once couldn't stand me would eventually become the biggest helicopter boyfriend—well, fake boyfriend. For now. We really need to fix that little technicality. Please and thank you—in the history of college hockey?

Don't tell him I called him that.

His scowl would probably deepen enough to alter the Earth's orbit.

As if sensing exactly where my thoughts have wandered, Kentaro suddenly leans down until his lips hover just beside my ear.

A shiver races down my spine so fast it leaves goosebumps prickling across my arms.

Good Lord.

This man really needs to stop weaponizing proximity.

"When I get back..." he murmurs, his voice low enough that it's swallowed by the rumble of the idling bus. "I want to take you somewhere."

I pull back just enough to look up at him.

The corners of my mouth are already betraying me.