Page 63 of Play Book

“Yeah. How about Carlotta’s?” I suggest. It’s an Italian restaurant not too far from the arena and the food is good. Plus, they’ll stay open late for us if we call.

“I’ll call!” Marty says, overhearing us and taking out his phone.

I notice that Brenna isn’t here, but I’m not going to say anything in front of everyone.

“I guess I’ll meet you there,” Saylor says.

“Meet me there?” I’m confused for a second.

Then I remember my Ferrari.

It’s one of the only things Ally actually thinks is cool and she loves riding in it.

And it’s a two-seater.

Shit.

“I’m going to need another car,” I mutter. “Sorry, babe.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure some of the girls are going. I can ride with one of them. Or Connor.”

I snicker. “Watch out for Connor… he thinks he’s a stud now that he’s been hooking up with Effie.”

She laughs. “I think I can handle him.”

“I know, but I feel bad.”

“It’s fine. Give Ally a little extra one-on-one attention. I’m a big girl.”

She leans over and gently brushes her lips across mine before walking over to Harper.

NINETEEN

Saylor

Carlotta’s puts us at a string of big, long tables in the back of the restaurant. They’ve pushed them together so we’re basically all at the same table, except there are so many of us, there’s no way to talk to everyone, which is inevitable but a little frustrating since I don’t know everyone, and I’d like to meet them. This probably isn’t the right setting for that, though.

I’ve never been here before, but I’ve passed by a million times. That’s the trouble with L.A. There are so many choices, so many wonderful bars and restaurants, it’s hard to choose. And like most people, I have my favorites, so I tend to go to the same places over and over.

This place is low-key, empty since it’s almost eleven o’clock at night, but the owners had agreed to stay open for us and we’re a large group. Apparently, the news that Canyon’s niece is living with him now has half the team joining us, and it’s obvious they’re all paying extra attention to me. I’m sure they recognize me. Not only have I been a season ticket holder for a long time, I’ve made multiple appearances on a popular sitcom, have been on the cover of Sports Illustrated twice, and my face has been on probably thousands of magazine covers over the course of my career.

Not to mention, he called me his girlfriend right there in the family lounge. While I don’t think that’s true—that I’m now officially his girlfriend—I’ve suddenly been elevated to a new status with the team. Not that I care about something so ridiculous, but there’s no doubt the vibe is different now that he made that unofficially official announcement.

I’m ninety-nine percent sure he only said it because Ally had put him on the spot, and he probably hadn’t wanted to embarrass me since we’d been holding hands, but it makes me uncomfortable. Despite our quick talk before heading down to the family lounge, we’re still basically friends with benefits. I might go so far as to say we’re in the early stages of dating. But boyfriend and girlfriend? No. We aren’t there yet.

Even if hearing the words makes my stupid, romantic heart skip a beat.

Now, he has his arm casually slung along the back of my chair, occasionally stroking the side of my bicep with his fingers. He’s laid back, casual, like we do this all the time, and it’s confusing. Having a private, low-key sexual relationship is one thing. Doing this in front of a group of our mutual friends and co-workers elevates it to a level I can’t wrap my head around.

What happens when he gets the itch to fuck someone else and ends it? Then I’m going to be the one who’ll have to explain that we had a deal. That it hadn’t been serious. That I was never really his girlfriend, and it had been a ruse because of his niece.

Ugh.

I’m overthinking the whole thing, and it’s pissing me off.

“Ally, when do you start school?” I ask, trying to bring her into the conversation since most of us are talking around her.

She scowls. “You mean that prison he’s making me go to?”

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