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nineteen

Harlow

“There she is,” Knox says as he walks up behind me as I chat with Lucia in the hallway outside the clubhouse.

“Ah, hey there, Slick,” I say, turning to face him. “You played a great game in the dugout tonight.”

“Such a goddamn tease,” he replies, sliding up next to me. I turn back around to find Lucia smirking right at us.

“What?” I ask her.

“Nothing,” she says, throwing her hands up. “Nothing at all.” I don’t believe her, but I’m not pressing the issue. I know what she’ll say, and I really don’t want to hear it.

The clubhouse door opens, and a few of the Stars players walk out into the hallway. Since these guys don’t know about the fake relationship, Knox puts his arm around my shoulder and plants a soft kiss on the top of my head. And even though it’s just for show, I can’t help but smile at the show of affection.

It makes me wonder what things would be like if this were real. Would he hold me close like this because he could? Would he kiss me around his teammates? Would he take me to bed and ravish me? I’ll never find out, but there’s no harm in imagining it, right?

As more of the team leaves the clubhouse, Lucia chimes in with a bright-ass smile, “You guys are such a sweet couple.” She’s doing it to make us feel awkward, but Knox and I have been playing this game for more than a month now—we’re used to it.

So, in response, I simply say, “Thank you, Luc,” returning the bright smile she gave me. And Knox just pulls me closer.

“What are your plans tonight, baby?” he asks me, and I almost snort in laughter. Baby? I never took Knox for someone who would be interested in using pet names, so that catches me by surprise, but I can roll with it.

“Not too much, babe ,“ I say as I jokingly push my shoulder into his ribs, earning me a low chuckle. “I’m going to make a frozen pizza, have a glass of wine, and write my blog post for Lane’s interview.”

“Sounds like a wild Tuesday night. Count me in.”

“You want to come over and eat frozen pizza?” I ask him incredulously.

“Yeah, why not?” Knox replies. “I can switch it up from the takeout leftovers in my fridge.”

“Alright, Knox. You can come over.” I point at him now. “But do not distract me. I need to work on my post.”

“I wouldn’t dream of distracting you, Lo. Never.” The tone in his voice tells me I won’t be getting much done tonight. And the way Lucia tries to subtly laugh tells me she knows it, too.

“You know, I do love burnt pizza,” Knox says as he takes a slice from the pan.

“Shut up,” I reply. “My shitty oven doesn’t always heat evenly.”

“I’m just pushing your buttons, Freckles.” He looks at me and smiles softly. “This is fine, I promise.”

That tiny bit of reassurance is all I need to remind myself that Knox isn’t Derek. He’s not going to lose his shit over some burnt pizza. “You okay, Lo? You seem a little lost in your head right now.”

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine!” I say a little too quickly. “Let’s go sit down on the couch. You can put something on the TV while I work on my blog post.”

“Of course,” Knox replies before grabbing my plate from my hand, carrying it across the room, and setting it down on the coffee table.

We both take a seat on the tiny couch, legs brushing up against each other since there’s not much room. “You didn’t need to carry my plate, but thank you.”

“I did tell you I’m not actually an asshole,” he replies, smiling as he chuckles to himself. Knox turns the TV to ESPN, watching the highlights of the games across the league as I open my laptop.

He looks at the screen before I can open a new document to start Lane’s article. “What were you looking at there, Lo?” he asks, noting the beautiful gowns displayed.

“Ah,” I reply. “That was just me daydreaming. I love Rana Dagon’s designs, so I like to see the new styles she releases. I’ll never afford them, but window shopping is always free.”

“I’m used to seeing you in a jersey and jeans,” Knox says back to me. “I don’t know if I can even picture you in a gown.”

“Well, it’s not like I ever really get an opportunity for that,” I laugh. “Jersey and jeans work for me, though. I like being comfortable.”

Knox just smiles at me before returning his attention to the TV so I can start on this post.

When I reach for my slice of burnt pizza, I catch a glimpse of Knox, his eyes staring intently at the screen across the room. And I really look at him. He’s not who I expected him to be, and I’ve grown very fond of the person I know now.

I feel something swell in my chest and try to push it down. Whatever that feeling is isn’t worth exploring.

“What are you looking at, Lo?” Knox asks, raising an eyebrow as I jump, slightly startled by the sudden disruption of the silence. “You alright?”

“Yep! Totally good.” I speak with faux confidence to mask the shakiness in my voice.

“Uh… huh…” he replies, eyeing me.

“You, uh…” I stammer, “You’re just distracting me!”

“What?” he says, laughing. “How am I distracting you?”

Well, how is he distracting me? I’m not going to tell him that I don’t actually know why I’m so unfocused right now. That when I looked at him, I started to see him differently. So instead, I say, “Your shirt! Your shirt is too damn tight, Knox.”

“It’s a white T-shirt, Harlow,” he says, looking at me curiously.

“A white T-shirt that’s clinging to every damn muscle in your arms and chest,” I reply, crossing my arms, trying to make it look like this was the problem the entire time.

Knox thinks for a moment before shooting me a mischievous smile. “Would you prefer I take it off, Lo?” He says it in such a husky tone. A tone I know I’ll be replaying in my head over and over during my morning shower, imagining it’s the one he’d use if we were in bed together.

“No!” I all but shout. “No,” I say, quieter this time. “Keep your shirt on. That would be even more distracting.”

He leans in closer to me. “It’s kinda fun getting you all flustered. You look adorable as you’re flailing around over there.”

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying this,” I state, a hint of exasperation in my voice.

“I probably shouldn’t,” he says before positioning his lips by my ear. “But your goddamn freckles have had me sidetracked all day,” he whispers lowly as the stubble from his facial hair brushes my face. He repositions himself, now looking right into my eyes and running his thumb across my cheek. “I like that, though. You look so much better when you show them off.”

My breath hitches in my throat, fighting for release. That’s an honest admission from a man notorious for not sharing anything. I know by now that he’s comfortable around me, but his sincerity still surprises me. And it warms me to know he’s secure enough with me to share that.

“So, uh…” I sputter, trying to diffuse what feels like awkward tension. “I-I don’t think I’m getting much of my post written tonight.” I yawn genuinely. “I’m too tired to focus on it.”

“Yeah, uh… I’m pretty tired, too,” Knox says, turning his attention back to the TV in front of us.

The silence remains thick in the air as we try to forget what charged between us. But did something actually charge, or is that all in my mind? It doesn’t matter either way, so there’s no point in dwelling on the thought. And as the exhaustion from today finally catches up with me, I hope I don’t dwell on it in my dreams.

I rub my eyes, confused for a moment, before figuring out where I am. I’m still sitting on my sofa, wearing what I wore last night.

I must have fallen asleep while Knox was still here.

As I sit up to stretch myself out, I realize that I’m leaning against something, someone , very muscular.

My six-four fake boyfriend fell asleep on my couch beside me, leaning over and resting his head on the arm. And I apparently used his chest as a pillow.

It’s sort of cute... until I remember that it’s Wednesday morning.

“Knox!” I yell, trying to get his attention. “Knox!” I say louder, shaking his arm to wake him up.

He abruptly wakes, confused. “Huh- Lo? What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is you fell asleep on my couch last night, which wouldn’t normally be a problem, but today is Wednesday!”

“Why is Wednesday so special?” he asks as he stands to stretch himself out and relieve his cramped muscles.

Before I can answer, I hear the padding of feet outside my door before the sound of knocking echoes across the room. Realization finally crosses Knox’s face.

“Fuck, that’s when you meet up with your brother,” he says, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “He’s going to make a big deal of me being here.”

“That’s… probably not the biggest of your concerns right now.” My gaze falls, and his follows… right to the morning wood he’s proudly displaying.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, adjusting himself as I avert my eyes. “I was asleep—I can’t help that!”

“I know,” I say quickly. “Just… take care of that and fix your goddamn shirt.”

Cole knocks on the door again, and I jog across the room to open it. “Hey, Cole. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? How are you on this fine morning?”

He eyes me curiously. “Fine…” he says before stepping into my apartment. When he spots Knox across the room brushing the wrinkles out of his shirt, he breaks out in a wide, teasing smile. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing!” I say too quickly. “It’s really nothing. We both just ended up falling asleep on the couch last night.”

“You really think sleeping on a couch half your size the night before a game was a good idea?” Cole asks, lifting his brow to him.

“It wasn’t intentional,” Knox says, exasperated. “But I’m not pitching today, so I’ll be alright.”

“What an interesting morning this is turning out to be,” Cole says, delighted.

“I’m, uh… gonna head out. I’ll see you before the game, Lo.” As quickly as he can, Knox grabs his things and all but runs out the door, leaving me alone with Cole.

Cole leans back against my kitchen counter. “So, Knox stayed here last night, huh?”

“I didn’t know he was going to stay,” I reply, hands scrubbing down my face. “I was just as surprised as you were when I woke this morning.”

“A month and a half into this whole fake relationship, and Knox is already sleeping on your couch.” He smiles playfully. “Interesting.”

“Why is that interesting?” I ask. “It’s not like we did anything. Hell, we haven’t even kissed outside of when there are cameras on us.”

Cole watches me curiously. “Do you want him to kiss you, Lo?”

“What? No! Of course not!” I shout, trying to sound convincing. Cole passes by me to set out our food, laughing as he does, confirming that he’s not buying what I’m saying.

He should believe me, though. Why would I want Knox to kiss me? This is a show. We’re putting on a show . I don’t need him to kiss me outside of when it’s necessary.

And yet, after seeing him last night, I secretly wish he would kiss me just because he could. Not because of cameras, not because anyone’s around. Just because he wants to. Just because he wants me .

A thought like that will take me down a very dangerous road…