Page 95 of Faking the Goal

Maybe when this feature is over and we don't have to spend time together anymore... we still will.

Maybe we could actually be friends.

A stupid little warmth spreads through my chest at the thought, and I hate how quickly I start hoping it might be true. I want it to be. Probably more than I should.

But I'm not going to get ahead of myself. I've done enough hoping for things in my life only to end up disappointed when they don't work out the way I imagined.

So, friendship with Kentaro Azuma?

Maybe.

Hopefully.

That's as far as I'm letting myself go.

I chuckle and give him a playful look. "You know, I think that was already way more than three things about me."

He doesn't say anything, and the longer his eyes stay on me, the more self-conscious I become under his stare.

"Anyway." I clear my throat and glance at my empty plate. "That strawberry cake was really fucking good. I may have inhaled it a little too fast."

"If you want another slice, I'll get you one."

My eyes flick back to his. "Are you trying to bribe me into telling you more things about myself?"

One corner of his mouth lifts. "Is it working?"

I glance toward the café counter, pretending to seriously consider it.

"Depends. How big is the next slice?"

Before Kentaro can answer, his attention shifts toward a woman walking into the café wearing a floral apron, a pretty silk scarf wrapped around her head instead of hair. She looks a little pale, thinner than I would've expected, and it takes me only a second to put the pieces together.

She must be sick.

Then she spots Kentaro, and her whole face brightens as she lifts a hand in greeting. The resemblance around their eyes is enough that I know who she is before he even gets up.

His mom.

"Excuse me for a second," Kentaro says before getting up and walking over to her.

I pull my laptop closer and start cleaning up the last of my notes while they talk nearby, trying not to eavesdrop even though the café is quiet enough that I can hear them without actually trying.

"Mama. What are you doing down here?"

"I came to tell you breakfast is ready."

Breakfast?

I glance toward the clock above the reception counter and nearly choke all over again. It's already 8:43.

Holy shit. We started at seven. How the hell have almost two hours passed?

I look back down at my laptop and start fixing a few things in my notes while they continue talking nearby. I'm halfway through rewriting one of Kentaro's answers when I get that unmistakable feeling that someone is looking at me.

I glance up.

His mother is staring directly at me.