Page 408 of Faking the Goal

Because apparently Kentaro and I are incapable of leaving anything simple.

We turn toward each other, and the moment Kentaro's eyes meet mine, I see it.

That tiny competitive glint.

Oh, no.

We bow.

His is slightly deeper than mine.

I straighten and narrow my eyes.

Asshole.

Kentaro's mouth twitches.

So I bow again.

Lower.

A few confused laughs ripple through the guests as I straighten, immensely pleased with myself.

Kentaro raises an eyebrow.

Then bows lower.

Oh, fuck you.

I bow even deeper.

By now, Miho is audibly laughing somewhere in the front row.

"Are they seriously competing over who can bow lower?" I hear Luke whisper.

"Yes," someone whispers back. "Of course they fucking are."

Kentaro straightens and looks at me.

I give him a smug little smile.

Beat that, Grumpy.

Then, without a single fucking word, my groom drops to his knees.

My mouth falls open.

"Ken—"

He plants both hands on the floor.

And then the six-foot-two idiot lowers himself all the way down until he's practically fucking prostrating himself at my feet.

The room explodes.

I slap both hands over my mouth as laughter bursts out of me so hard I nearly fold in half. Miho is shrieking. Someone behind us starts clapping. The twins are yelling something I can't even make out over everybody else.

"KENTARO AZUMA!"