Page 97 of Faking the Goal

I press my lips together harder.

Kentaro looks thoroughly unimpressed.

Which, naturally, makes this approximately ten times funnier.

"Ken-chan," I repeat, trying it out. "You know, I actually like that."

"Of course you do."

"It's cute."

"No."

"It is." I look him over, enjoying this far too much. "Really takes the edge off the whole intimidating goalie thing."

His eyes narrow.

"I think I'm going to start calling you that."

"No, you're not."

"Whatever you say, Ken-chan."

Harumi laughs beside me while Kentaro looks at her like she's committed the ultimate maternal betrayal.

"I'm glad I finally got to meet you, Taylor," she says. "Come upstairs and have breakfast with us. I made plenty."

The teasing dies on my tongue. "Oh, no, I couldn't. I don't want to impose."

"You wouldn't be imposing at all. Ken-chan told me he had an interview here early this morning, so I made extra."

"Mama, you didn't have to do that."

"I know." She smiles at him before turning back to me. "But now there's far too much food for two people, and I need someone to help us eat it."

Well, when she puts it like that...

I glance toward Kentaro, half expecting him to look annoyed by the idea of me invading his breakfast too, but he doesn't.

"If you're sure..." I say.

"I'm sure."

Harumi slips her arm through mine and starts leading me toward the stairs, already asking whether I like Japanese breakfast, and there's something so naturally warm about her that I find myself going along with it before I've fully processed the fact that I'm apparently having breakfast with Kentaro Azuma and his mother now.

Halfway to the stairs, I glance back.

Kentaro is standing beside the couch holding my laptop bag.

Shit.

I forgot it.

He gives me a look that clearly says seriously?

I grin. "Thanks, Ken-chan."

His expression darkens.