Page 14 of Off Pitch

“I do not have an icy heart,” I reply indignantly.

“You’ll have to show me that then. So far, you’re cold and distant. But I’ll warm you up through the season.”

In an effort to keep my mind from going somewhere itreallyshouldn’t with talk of warming me up, I bring attention to the two coffees in my hand. “I, uh… I brought coffee.”

“Now you’re speaking my language, Spencer. Maybe you can be sweet after all.”

“I didn’t bring them to be sweet,” I admit. “I brought them because I’m a colossal dick early in the morning, and I thought I should probably be more welcoming today.”

Harlow brings her hand up to cover her mouth, hiding her laugh. “I appreciate the honesty. Now, are these black coffees?” I nod. She walks over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of coffee creamer and then a container of sugar from the counter. “I’ve got cream and sugar here then. How do you take your coffee?”

“Two creams, one sugar,” I answer. “Black has always been too bitter for me.”

“Ooh, something we have in common!” she says excitedly. “That’s the exact way I drink my coffee. We can bond over coffee.”

“You want us to bond over coffee?” I say, cocking an eyebrow.

“We have to bond over something, don’t we?” she responds, shrugging her shoulders. “Might be a good starting point.”

She starts walking over to the tiny couch, and I follow, taking a seat right next to her—literally right next to her. Harlow is much smaller than I am, but we’re still basically on top of each other right now. “So, uh… how should we start this?”

Harlow brings her coffee to her lips, takes a sip, and moans in enjoyment. “Mmm, this is good coffee.” Let’s forget that sound. Let’s not imagine her making similar sounds in a very different situation that involves far less clothing. “I thought we should learn a bit about each other to help us get everything straight. I know nothing about you.”

“No one knows anything about me.”

“Because you’re so damn closed off. That’s what we need to work on.”

I sigh. “I know. You’ll just have to give me some time to start opening up. I don’t know you well, and I need to know if I can trust you before that happens.”

“Do you think I’m going to take anything you tell me and air it on my blog?” she asks dejectedly.

“No, of course not,” I admit. “Cole’s a good guy, I imagine you’re a good girl.” Harlow raises her eyebrow and smirks at me. “Oh fuck! Not like that!” I’m stumbling over my words, trying to talk my way out of this. “I mean, maybe you are, I don’t know. I don’t need to know!”

She snorts from laughing so hard at my stupidity. “Damn,” she says, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I thought it would take more than ten minutes for me to make you that uncomfortable.”

“I panicked,” I say, scrubbing my hand over my face. “This is fake. I don’t want you to think I’m suggesting something.”

“Note to self then,” she replies. “Knox Spencer isn’t interested in a physical relationship with me. Good to know.” Harlow smirks at me again as she takes another sip of coffee.

I sigh. “Let’s not tell Cole about me sounding like a bumbling idiot, please.”

“Promise,” she says. “Now, knowing how hard it is for you to open up and how awkward you can get trying to avoid that, let’s just get our story straight. How did we meet?”

“Through your brother. How else would we meet?”

“True. I imagine you don’t give yourself much opportunity to meet women who live in shoeboxes.”

I groan, bringing my hand to my face. “I swear that’s not what I meant. They consider me the league asshole, but I’m not that bad. I just keep to myself.”

“I figured,” she replies honestly. “Cole wouldn’t be friends with you if you were some horrible, unredeemable person. I know there’s going to be more below the surface. That’s the Knox I’m looking forward to getting to know.”

Despite how I’ve come across today, Harlow isn’t giving up. If I were her, I might’ve called the whole thing off. But she’s instead just going to ease herself into my life. Maybe that’ll be a good thing.

I smile at her. “Oh, he does smile!”

“Fucking hell. I can’t smile without someone pointing it out.”

“Sorry,” she says, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Won’t happen again. We can get back to details in a minute, but when do you think we should launch this fake relationship?”

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