Page 175 of Faking the Goal

He lowers his hand, rubbing the back of his neck.

When I look back up at him, I find him... staring.

His eyes linger on me. On my dress. But not in a way that makes me uncomfortable. I don't feel the urge to tug the neckline any higher or fold my arms over my chest.

Most guys, when they see a dress like this, their gaze has an agenda. It's the look of someone mentally undressing you, cataloging each exposed inch like they're taking inventory for later. I've been on the receiving end of that look so many times that it makes me feel less like a person and more like a sex object they can tuck away for their next wet dream.

But Kentaro... he's different.

There's something about the way he looks at me that makes me want to stand a little taller instead of shrinking into myself. There's desire in his eyes—I know there is—but somehow it never overshadows the admiration.

He isn't looking at my dress. He isn't even looking at my cleavage.

He's looking at me.

And strangely enough, that familiar judgment isn't there either.

No slight narrowing of his eyes. No disapproving crease between his brows. None of that silent scrutiny he used to give my clothes, like every outfit I wore personally offended his ridiculously conservative sensibilities.

Huh.

When did that change?

Or maybe the better question is... when did he change?

Because this is the same man who once looked at half my wardrobe like it was a public indecency charge waiting to happen. Yet here I am in a dress with half my back exposed and a neckline plunging low enough that the old Kentaro probably would've developed a stress headache, and there isn't even a hint of disapproval on his face.

Just... him looking at me like that.

My cheeks grow warmer beneath the weight of his gaze. Under his eyes, I don't feel overexposed.

I feel beautiful.

"Yeah..." His throat bobs before he finally tears his eyes away. "I just... didn't want you walking over by yourself, so I figured I'd come pick you up."

I can't help but smile.

"Aww."

I tilt my head.

"What a gentleman you are, Sunshine."

The tips of his ears turn the faintest shade of pink.

"Trying to be."

God. He's so unintentionally adorable sometimes.

I lock my apartment door before turning back around.

"Shall we?" He offers me his arm.

Without thinking, I slip mine through it.

"You look..." He clears his throat awkwardly. "...beautiful, by the way."

"Thank you."