Page 75 of Faking the Goal

"Nah. No family to do the whole Thanksgiving thing with."

I say it casually, because to me, it is. Thanksgiving has never been some big family holiday I'm missing out on. You need the family part first.

His expression shifts, and I can tell the second he remembers what I told him about growing up in foster care. His mouth tightens slightly.

"Sorry."

"Pfft." I wave him off. "Don't be. I'm fine."

And I am. What I don't need is him suddenly feeling bad for me. I hate when people do that—when they learn I grew up in the system and start looking at me like my life is the saddest thing they've heard all week.

So before the conversation has any chance of drifting into dangerous emotional territory, I gather my manga against my chest and start backing away.

"Anyway, I have about twelve volumes demanding my attention, so—"

I turn toward one of the sofas beneath the fake cherry blossoms, only to hear footsteps following behind me.

"Why the sudden move?"

I glance over my shoulder. Kentaro is following me toward the sofas, which only makes the question more amusing.

"Why, Sunshine? What's with the sudden interest in my living arrangements?"

"No interest. I'm just curious." He shrugs. "Trying to make conversation."

I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. Well, shit. Look at him voluntarily making conversation with me when there isn't an interview question involved. A few weeks ago, getting this man to talk required persistence, threats, and possibly divine intervention. Now he's following me around a manga lounge asking about my life.

Who knew Sunshine had it in him?

He catches me looking at him and grunts. "You don't have to answer."

That makes me chuckle. "Relax. I just thought it was time for a change of environment."

It's vague enough to end there, because I can't exactly tell him the real reason.

Although sometimes I wish I could tell someone. Just one person so I wouldn't have to keep carrying all of this around by myself.

And standing here with him, I hate how badly I want that person to be Kentaro.

But we're not friends.

We're getting along better, sure. Maybe even starting to like each other a little more than either of us would willingly admit. But that doesn't mean I get to hand him something this heavy and expect him to carry it with me.

So I don't.

I set my stack of manga on the table and settle onto the sofa. When I look back at Kentaro, he's still standing there, watching me with that assessing look of his, like he knows there's more to my answer than I'm giving him.

"Is this because of Kirk?"

"No." I shake my head. "Kirk hasn't bothered me since the restraining order was served."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. He's not even in the country anymore." I tuck one leg underneath me. "Janice from Student Media was working on a piece about former Ridgewater athletes who went pro, and his name came up. Apparently, he flew to Australia a few weeks ago to train for the next professional tennis season. Melbourne or Brisbane or... one of the places with kangaroos. I stopped listening after Australia."

Kentaro gives a small nod, and I don't miss the way his expression eases at that.

Hmm.