“Trouble in paradise?” I say in a chipper greeting. “Did you tell her about last night?”
His face burns bright red, which only serves to make me laugh. I knew this would work. I just didn’t know it would be so easy.
“Nothing happened last night,” he bites back, his voice low.
“I meant the fight with your dad.” I lift a brow at him. “I didn’t mean the part where you took your shirt off for me and let me use you for my art.”
As expected, he goes off.
His massive hands grab my shirt, and he shoves me against the wall. Electric blue eyes sear into me. I’m taken aback by his scent—a cologne I’ve salivated over one too many times when I’ve gone to Hollister at the mall. Come to think of it, Canyon is a poster boy for that store. He should really look into modeling.
“I know what you’re doing,” he growls. “You’re flirting with me to piss me off.”
“It’s working beautifully.”
His nostrils flare. “It won’t work.”
“It already has, bro.”
“No,” he murmurs, his voice going husky and making all the hairs on my arms stand on end. “All it does is make you look like a desperate queer aching for the dick of someone he can’t have.” The fury melts away as he gives me an arrogant lift of his chin. “Imagine how disappointed your daddy would be in you if he knew you were trying to get into my pants.”
I tense at his words but wisely keep my mouth shut.
“That’s what I thought.” He winks at me. “You’ll do anything to please Quinn. I wonder why that is. It’s almost as if you think—”
“Voss. Sommers. Is there a problem here, boys?” assistant principal, Mr. Martin, asks as he approaches.
Canyon’s evil face transforms into a smile that is charming enough to convince anyone of anything. “Just giving my brother a pep talk. I heard someone beat his time yesterday. He’s kind of torn up about it.”
Mr. Martin’s eyes narrow as he darts them my way. “What’s really going on here?”
I playfully shove Canyon away from me, adopting the same deceptive smile he’s wearing. “My humble brother here failed to mention he was the one who beat me yesterday. The football team sure is going to miss him.”
Mr. Martin shakes his head and huffs. “You two do realize you’re not brothers yet, right? And I’m not an idiot. There’s some animosity going on with the two of you, and I won’t stand for it.” He lifts a brow, pinning me with a firm stare. “Do I need to call your fathers?”
“No,” I bark out. “We’ve come to an agreement. He’ll stay in his lane, and I’ll stay in mine. Everything’s fine, Mr. Martin.”
“Then get into Garrison’s class before the bell rings, or I’ll pull you both in for detention.”
Getting detention is not an option.
Dad would be disgusted with me.
“Yes, sir,” I grit out and dart into the classroom. “Sorry.”
Canyon ambles behind me, chuckling under his breath. This motherfucker is going to make me lose my shit. The only two places open are two desks beside each other. I take the one behind Leon, and he sits behind Naomi. Maybe she’ll distract the idiot long enough for me to regroup.
After the bell rings and the trig lecture begins, I pull out my phone and save the unknown number in my contact list as “Brother Lover.”
Canyon’s smugness is almost gag-worthy, and I avoid his constant smirks. If he continues to pay more attention to me than his studies, I won’t have to worry about him in all my AP classes too much longer. He’ll get his ass tossed back into regular ed so fast his head will spin. Now I just need to focus on a way to destroy him in track, too, so he can go back to tossing the football around and stay out of my sport.
At least there’s one place he can’t reach me.
Orchestra.
And it’s my one opportunity to fuck with him while he’s not watching.
A smile tugs at my lips at the thought of getting to him through his sister. It’s almost too easy. I’m surprised I didn’t think about it until now.
Canyon glances back at me, his own self-assured smile fading as he takes in the determined look on my face. His glare hardens, and his jaw clenches. We spend the entire hour of trig staring each other down. Unlucky for him, I can multitask like a motherfucker. His empty notebook won’t be doing him any favors, whereas my mental notes will be there come test time.
The school’s dumbest jock should know better than to fuck with a genius.
It’s only a matter of time before Canyon realizes his place in my life.
Behind me and in the shadows.
I will not let him take one goddamn thing from me, especially my dad.
Carrie Voss is the spitting image of her brother. Just smaller and softer. They have the same sharp, sapphire eyes that can slice through you without effort, and a smile, when genuine, that’s bright enough to light up the room.
She’s a great violin player, but her mind is too busy to be the best. Last year, she tried desperately to get better because apparently, she’s as competitive as her brother, but she never came close to taking first chair.
That would mean knocking me off my pedestal.
Not going to help her do that.
But I could help her improve. When I graduate in the spring, she could easily be a shoo-in for this seat next year. Helping her won’t come without payment, though.
I need to understand Canyon.
All his weaknesses.
What drives him fucking insane.
I’ll exploit it all, of course, because it’s only fair. The shithead has been doing the same to me. It’s time to play dirty.
Carrie approaches me warily. I must look a little too eager to see her. Quickly, I tone down my devious glee at making her brother suffer and force a friendly smile instead.
“Canny Jr,” I say as she sits down. “How’s life treating you?”
“Don’t talk to me, loser.”
Damn, she’s as bitchy as her brother.
I’m so lucky to have these people joining my family.
Not.
“Says the girl who’s not sitting in this chair.” I flash her a smug grin. “Do you mind if I call you Junior, Junior?”
“Fuck off, Alis.”
“You sound just like big bro when you say that, so the nickname fits perfectly.”
She ignores me to pull her instrument out of her case for class. Several of the students are already warming up. I lean back in my chair, angling my body toward hers so I can scrutinize her form.
“Straighten your back,” I order, earning a nasty glare. “Now, Junior.”
She purses her lips but does improve her posture. Her brows are furled as though she’s pissed off at the world. Thoughts are distracting when the music wants to flow through you.
“Stop thinking about it.”
Her blue eyes cut to mine. “About what?”
“Whatever it is that has you scowling. It’s distracting. Think about Bach.”
She runs the hair of the bow along the strings, listening as she tunes the instrument. I reach over and tug at her hair.
“Don’t tilt your head,” I chide. “Head and neck need to be straight.”