Page 64 of Play Book

“It’s not a prison.” Canyon rolls his eyes. “It’s one of the best private schools in L.A.”

“Whoop-de-doo. I hate school. And those uniforms are butt ugly.”

“Uniforms make it easier,” Autumn says gently. “Everyone is wearing the same thing so there’s no competition.”

“I don’t give a shit about that,” Ally mutters.

“Ally.” Canyon looks at her. “Stop trying to show off. You’re eleven. You don’t get to use words like that.”

“I bet you did.” She issues it like a challenge.

“I did not,” he corrects in a tone that’s equal parts admonishment and frustration. “My mother didn’t allow it. And neither do I.”

“Well, you’re not my dad.”

“No, but I am your guardian and your uncle. So, my rules apply.”

The power play between them is almost tangible, and it seems like this half of the table is collectively holding their breath, waiting to see where it ends.

Amazingly, Ally backs down.

But not without getting in the last word. “You just won’t hear it when I do it at school,” she mumbles under her breath.

Canyon looks like he wants to argue but then merely shrugs. “I may not hear it, but your teachers will, and you’ll be the one dealing with detentions.”

She shrinks down into herself a little, and I feel bad for her. Unfortunately, she’s doing this to herself and there isn’t much I can do to help her get past what she’s going through. It’s going to take time, so we’re going to have to be patient.

We.

As if it’s a foregone conclusion that I’m going to be part of this.

Canyon and I really need to talk, but we have neither the time nor the privacy to do it here.

On the flip side, I’m having a good time.

Harper and Gabe are talking animatedly about their recent trip to Mexico during the All Star Break, Ivan and Chey have just moved into a new house, and Stevie is a lot more excited about working at my gallery than I’d imagined.

When she brings up the art classes, I notice Ally’s head turn, interest blooming in the depths of her hazel eyes.

She looks so much like Canyon she could almost be his kid.

He would have beautiful children someday.

I almost kick myself for thinking that.

For imagining I could be the one he’d have them with.

For allowing myself to buy into the stupid fantasy of being his girlfriend.

Because I’m not.

No matter what he’d said in the lounge.

“Are you teaching the class?” Ally asks Stevie.

Stevie grins and shakes her head. “No. That’s all Saylor. She’s an amazing artist.”

“She is?” Ally wrinkles her nose. “You paint?”

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