Page 50 of Faking the Goal

Someone who was still there the next time I wanted to try.

I learned pretty young not to spend too much time wanting things like that.

When I finally look up, Kentaro is staring at me.

His jaw is tight, and the usual coldness in his face has changed into something I can't quite place. He almost looks angry, except none of it seems directed at me.

And now I'm regretting opening my big mouth.

I don't want pity. Especially not from him.

So naturally, my first instinct is to ruin the moment before it gets any more uncomfortable.

"So!" I say, forcing some brightness back into my voice. "Now that you've discovered I'm a danger to myself on skates, can I go sit in the bleachers and talk from there? Pretty please?"

Kentaro scoffs. "Not a chance."

I sigh. "Prick."

His eyebrow twitches, so he definitely heard me.

"Your lack of experience doesn't change anything," he says. "You still need hands-on experience."

"It changes quite a lot, actually. I just told you I don't know how to skate."

"I'll teach you."

My head snaps toward him. "What?"

"I'll teach you."

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Do you know how long it takes to teach someone how to skate?"

"Yes."

"And you think you're going to teach me hockey on top of that while we're supposed to be working on this feature? We have less than a month."

"I can do both."

"Of course you can."

He starts skating backward again, still holding both my hands and forcing me to move with him.

"I thought you hated wasting time," I say.

"I do."

"Then explain how teaching a twenty year old woman how to stay upright on ice is a productive use of yours."

"Because you're writing about my life."

"And?"

"Hockey is my life."