Page 292 of Faking the Goal

"With your eyes?"

He ignores that and turns, accelerating toward the goal.

I shake my head and pull my laptop from my bag, but the smile stays on my face as I open it.

I manage to answer exactly one email before movement catches my eye.

A few minutes into his warm-up, Kentaro skates back toward our end instead of staying by the crease.

He stops a few feet in front of the players' bench, close enough that I can hear the soft scrape of his blades against the ice.

Setting his stick against the boards, he drops into a deep lateral stretch, one knee bent while the other leg extends effortlessly to the side. He shifts his weight slowly, holding the position before gliding into the opposite side without the slightest wobble.

I find myself watching longer than I mean to.

Every home game, I hear the girls in the student section whispering about this exact part of warm-ups.

"Oh my God..."

"Look at his legs."

"Why is stretching so hot?"

"I could watch this all day."

I've never understood it.

He's... stretching.

That's it.

No shirtless calendar shoot.

No dramatic slow-motion montage.

Just a guy loosening up before practice.

Curiosity gets the better of me.

I close my laptop and walk down the steps until I'm standing beside the glass.

"Ken-chan?"

He looks over immediately.

"Yeah?"

"I have a question."

He skates closer, resting his forearms on the top of the boards.

"Shoot."

I tilt my head.

"Why do girls lose their minds over hockey warm-ups?"

One eyebrow lifts.