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forty-seven

Knox

Harlow sits across from me on the couch, computer perched on her lap. “How do you handle the fame? You have the lowest ERA of any starting pitcher in the league, bringing you a lot of notoriety.”

“I’m pretty sure I can’t handle the fame at all,” I reply with a low laugh. “I’m pretty well-known for trying to avoid any of the fame that comes with this. I’ve never been one to seek out the limelight, so being thrust into it was never something I dreamed of. Honestly, it’s more of a nightmare, but I think I’m finally getting a better handle on approaching it.”

“What’s changed in your approach then? You’ve been known as Fort Knox for years—why the sudden change?”

“As if you don’t know,” I smile.

Harlow sighs. “Of course, I know, but I don’t think I can put ‘I’m faking a relationship thanks to my agent, and because of that, I have to pretend to be happy.’ That won’t be well-received.”

I laugh heartily. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t. But just so you know, I’m not pretending to be happy, Lo.” She meets my gaze. “None of that is fake.”

She takes a deep breath. “But you said-”

“I know what I said,” I sigh. “I’d love to forget I ever said it, but I can’t. But let’s not focus on that right now. I want to finish this interview for you.”

“Right,” she says warily. “So, why the sudden change?”

“The change is thanks to something I don’t think anyone expected before this season—my girlfriend, who just so happens to be you . You made me this way.”

“You’re talking to my readers, not to me. Tell them how you ended up where you are now.”

“Okay then, my girlfriend, Harlow, is the brightest and happiest person I’ve ever known. Even the most stoic and grumpy of people—yes, I do mean myself—can’t help but soak that all in. Her optimism is contagious, and that’s already having an impact on the field this season. Her brother is my teammate, Cole, so she’s somewhat familiar with what our lives look like. Because of that, she’s been able to help me navigate the increased fame. I couldn’t do any of this without her.”

She looks at me nervously. “That should help sell it. The man who never spoke before has quite a way with words.”

“I would hope that sells it,” I say, leaning back against the sofa. “It’s all true.” I face her now. “I couldn’t do this without you. You have no idea how grateful I am for you.”

“I think I’m starting to,” she says with a soft and sincere smile. “Thank you, Knox.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Lo. I know how much words mean to you.”

“It’s not an act of service,” Harlow says, “but I’m pretty good with words, too.” She reaches her hand out and rests it on my arm. “You’re very special to me, Knox. I hope you know that.”

“I do.”

There’s tension in the air. That itself isn’t unusual, but for the longest time, that tension was sexual. It was us trying to deny our physical desires.

This feels different.

This is starting to feel like… something I don’t think I’m ready to say, even in my own head.

But I’m not afraid.

And I think that means that this is right .

“Anyway,” she says quickly. “There are just a few more questions, the fun ones I ask everyone. What’s your favorite color?”

“I’ve always liked green,” I say.

“Like your eyes,” she replies with a smile, and I smile in return.

“Yeah, I guess so. Maybe I should say blue.”

“You flirting with me, Slick?”

I smile even brighter. We’re back to our usual banter. God, I missed this. “I flirt with you every chance I get, Freckles.”

“Lucky I like that then. What’s your favorite food?”

“Burnt pizza.”

Harlow picks up the throw pillow beside her and tosses it at me. “You’re an ass. I told you my oven is shitty.”

“You’re violent, Pierce.” I laugh as I put the pillow beside me. “Honestly, though, I do love any type of Thai food.”

“And the last question—what’s your favorite Taylor Swift song?”

“The Way I Loved You.”

“You didn’t even know any Taylor Swift songs a few months ago. How do you know that one?” Harlow looks at me, curious and skeptical.

“You played it for me on the plane the day after we launched the relationship. When you asked what I was listening to, I told you to put on Taylor Swift because you mentioned she was your favorite artist. You played your favorite album. I’ve listened to the rest of her discography now, but that album is played heavily in my rotation.”

“You listen… because of me? Because I like that album?”

“Yeah,” I shrug. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah, a little bit. But it’s also really sweet, Knox.”

“I figured out your favorite song that day, too.”

“How?” she asks. “I didn’t tell you my favorite song.”

“No, you didn’t,” I reply. “But I think it’s a safe bet to say that your favorite song is probably on your favorite album. And there was one song you played a bit more often than the others.” She looks at me curiously now. “You played Fearless multiple times during that flight, Lo.”

“Uh, yeah…” she blushes. “That’s my favorite song.”

“It makes sense,” I reply, gently pulling Harlow into my lap. “It’s a bright and happy song—perfect for you.”

She leans her head against my chest. “You’ve done nothing but surprise me this season.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

“In the best way.”

“I really enjoy you talking to me again, Harlow. I missed this.”

“Yeah,” she says. “I did, too. I just wanted to protect myself. Turns out, though, it hurts more to stay away from you.”

“So don’t stay away then.”

“As long as you promise you don’t try to pull away again.”

I smile. “That seems fair.”

She does her best to stifle a yawn, but it’s unsuccessful. “It’s getting late. I think I might head to bed.”

“Yeah, good idea,” I say before adding, “If you want, you can, uh… sleep beside me. Just sleep. You don’t have to, but like I said, I’ve missed you.”

“Oh,” she says softly as she slides off of me. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”

“Right, of course,” I say, a bit disappointed. “That’s more than fair.”

I stand from the couch and place a kiss on the top of her head before I walk out of the living room and toward my bedroom.

When I reach my door, I hear Harlow call out, “Good night, Knox.”

“Night, Lo. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sleep eludes me.

Wow, that sounds dramatic.

But still. I can’t sleep.

Thoughts of Harlow have taken up permanent residence in my brain, and they’re swirling even stronger tonight.

I’ve been trying to give her the space she needs, but that’s hell for me. Now, she doesn’t seem to want any distance between us again.

That’s all I’ve wanted since we went back to “playing our parts,” but if I was playing a part after our argument, I did a fucking terrible job. I’m not getting nominated for an Academy Award anytime soon, that’s for fucking sure.

All that matters, though, is that Harlow wants to be around me again. And her bringing back an entire cheesecake tonight helps me realize it.

She didn’t need to do that. She could have come back without it, and I wouldn’t have been any the wiser.

But she didn’t.

She brought back that damn cheesecake, and we ate it together before I did that interview for her.

All of this tonight makes things feel like they were before. Before I told her this was fake because I thought opening myself up completely would come back to bite me in the ass like it did with Emily.

But Harlow is not and never will be anyone but Harlow.

She’s going to be the sweet, kind, bright soul that she is no matter the circumstance.

Asking her to sleep beside me tonight was probably a leap too far, though. Hopefully, that doesn’t push her away again. But once the words were out, it’s not like I could take them back.

She only slept beside me for a few weeks, but my bed has felt empty without her ever since. I don’t know how she got to me so quickly, but she did. She did, and I actually enjoy every part of it. I miss having her here beside me.

I look at the clock on my nightstand—it’s a quarter ’til one, and I still haven’t gotten a goddamn wink of sleep tonight.

I rub my eyes out of frustration, hoping to find a way to fall asleep. Nothing is coming to mind.

Then, across the room, I hear my door knob slowly turn before the door opens. I can’t help but smile.

“I’m hoping that’s you, Freckles, and not somebody coming to murder me in my sleep.”

“What makes you so sure I’m not here to do just that?” Harlow asks, gently climbing into the bed beside me as I turn on my side to face her.

“If you’re here to kill me, at least the last thing I see will be you.”

“Oh my God,” she laughs. “When did you become so fucking cheesy?”

“I have no clue,” I reply, chuckling. “Wasn’t expecting you to come in, though.”

I hear her sigh. “I told myself I shouldn’t, that it was a bad idea.”

“Yet here you are.”

“Yet here I am.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “I guess I can’t really stay away from you.”

“You won’t hear me complaining about that, Lo. I haven’t slept well without you beside me.”

“Me too,” she admits. “I guess I got used to having somebody next to me.”

“Somebody next to you,” I ask, “or me next to you?”

“I could tease you about it, but we both know it’ll end with me saying the same thing: not just somebody, you. I only want it to be you beside me.”

“I like that answer,” I admit. “I really fucking like that answer.”

“I had a feeling you would.”

My hand finds hers under the covers, and I rest it on hers. “Good night, Harlow.”

“Good night, Knox.”

For the first time in weeks, I’m going to get a good night’s rest.