Page 56 of Faking the Goal

"Yesterday was your birthday?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

My eyebrows shoot up.

Why the hell would I?

We're not friends. We're barely even acquaintances who can stand each other for longer than ten consecutive minutes. Just recently, he was making my life miserable every chance he got, and now he's asking why I didn't announce my birthday to him like I was supposed to expect a cake and balloons?

This guy has been acting fucking weird lately.

"I forgot about it myself," I say with a shrug. "I was too busy recovering from yesterday to remember what day it was."

"It wasn't that bad."

I give him a flat look. "My ass would disagree."

His mouth twitches, but his eyes linger on me again, like he's still not completely buying my explanation for why I look like shit.

Eventually, he sighs and rubs the space between his brows.

"Fine."

I squint at him. "Fine, what?"

"Since it was your birthday yesterday, I'll make an exception."

"To?"

"My rule. You can ask me three questions today. I'll answer them."

I nearly lose my balance.

"Three?"

"Three."

Holy shit.

It's like tossing a steak to a starving dog. Suddenly I'm alert, awake, and very fucking interested in what this man has to say.

"Any three questions?"

"Within reason."

"No, no, no. You said three questions. Don't start sneaking terms and conditions into my birthday present."

"I didn't say it was a birthday present."

"Too late. I've claimed it."

He gives me a look but doesn't argue, which means I have three actual answers from Kentaro Azuma up for grabs, and I need to use them wisely.

I push forward carefully, managing a few shaky glides while he stays beside me.

"Okay. First question." I think for a second. "When did you know you wanted to be a goalie?"