Page 382 of Faking the Goal

Pride.

So much fucking pride.

I know how badly he wanted this. I know how much pressure he's carried all season. I know everything he's had to fight through just to stand in that crease tonight.

And now he's standing there as a national champion.

My grumpy goalie did it.

By the time the team finally leaves the ice, my throat is raw from screaming and I've taken enough pictures to fill approximately seventeen issues of the student paper.

Miho and I wait near the tunnel while players begin filtering through, still riding the adrenaline of the win. They're loud as hell, shoving each other, yelling, laughing, already beginning what I'm certain will become a night of increasingly terrible decisions.

Then I see number thirty-one.

Kentaro comes through the tunnel with his mask in one hand, hair damp and hopelessly disheveled, his face flushed from the game.

His eyes find me immediately.

Everything else might as well disappear.

His grin breaks wide.

"Trouble."

I don't even get the chance to move.

Kentaro strides straight toward me, drops his mask and stick beside the wall, and scoops me clean off my feet.

I squeal as his arms lock around my waist and mine immediately snake around his neck. "Ken-chan!"

He crushes me against all that bulky goalie gear, lifting me high enough that my feet dangle as I laugh into his neck.

"You did it!" I pull back and grab his sweaty face between my hands. "You fucking did it! National champion. A shutout in the fucking championship, you ridiculous, beautiful bastard. I am so fucking proud of you."

Something changes in his expression.

His smile softens, and suddenly he's looking at me like those are the only words he needed to hear tonight.

"Yeah?"

"Are you kidding me?" I kiss his forehead, then his cheek, then the other one because apparently I've lost all restraint. "I was obnoxiously proud. Miho can confirm. I nearly got fired from a job I don't technically get paid for because approximately ninety percent of my pictures are of you."

Behind me, Miho snorts. "Ninety-eight."

"Traitor."

Kentaro laughs, tightening his arms around me.

And surrounded by screaming players, celebrating families, reporters, arena staff, and whatever other madness is happening around us, I kiss my national champion anyway.

Because after everything it took for us to get here, I'm done hiding how much I love him.

Kentaro's laugh rumbles against my mouth as his arms tighten around me, and I barely have time to smile before he kisses me again.

This one is nothing like the quick kiss I gave him.

His hand slides into my hair and he kisses me with absolutely zero concern for the fact that we're standing in a crowded arena tunnel with teammates, reporters, families, and probably several cameras within viewing distance. The hollering starts almost immediately behind us.