Page 38 of Off Pitch

She stares at me, breathless, with a racing heart. Well, I imagine her heart is racing because mine sure as hell is. Our banter from the beginning has always been fun, but it’s starting to feel more…flirty. And I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

“We should head out,” she says, breaking our eye contact. “Let’s go give those tabloids something to talk about.”

We start our outing by walking through The Battery, the large city park near my place. On the rare occasions I get out of my house, I like to come here. It’s relaxing to stroll through a patch of nature amidst the bustling city.

As we make our way through the tree-covered park, I take Harlow’s hand in mine. She looks at me, surprised. “Just in case there are any people with cameras,” I reassure her.

“We can do one better, then.” With her hand still in mine, she leans her head against my arm as we continue down the trail step by step.

This shouldn’t feel so easy, should it? It shouldn’t be so easy for us to fall into step with such a romantic position when we’re not really dating. Regardless of whether it shouldn’t be, it is. It’seasy. Everything with Harlow is effortless. It all just feelsright.And I don’t really know what to make of that right now.

We continue down the trail and come across one of my favorite places in the entire park. “What is this?” she asks.

“This is Castle Clinton. It was built as a fort between 1808 and 1811, but it was never used in war. It was actually the first US immigration station, years before Ellis Island.”

Harlow looks at me with amusement. “You some kind of history buff, Spencer?”

I slide my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve always loved history, especially learning about any of the American wars.”

“Tell me more about this then, Knox. What war would this have been used in?”

I lead her over to the plaque explaining the fort’s history. “If it was ever used in a war, it would’ve been during the War of 1812. The peace treaty for that war was signed in 1815, and the army gave up use of the fort in 1821, so it never did see battle.”

“And you said this was also used for immigration?”

“It was,” I confirm. “It was used for immigration until 1890, two years before Ellis Island. Some seven and a half million people came into the US through Castle Clinton.”

“Fascinating,” she replies.

“You don’t have to pretend to enjoy it, Lo. I know history is boring for a lot of people.”

“No,” she says, turning to face me. “I like hearing you talk about the things you enjoy. Besides, a history lesson could probably do me some good.” I can’t help but smile. “Now, tell me everything you know, Professor Spencer.”

seventeen

Knox

Harlow listens to everyword I say with undivided attention. She genuinely enjoys hearing me talk about something I like. And I actually find it nice to be open about myself with someone. It’s been so long since I’ve done that, but she seems to ease my worries and insecurities.

When we continue past the fort, we come upon the SeaGlass Carousel. She somehow talks me into going on with her. I see people taking pictures, so I’m sure images of us sitting inside a giant fish, Harlow on my lap as I hold her close, will end up plastered all over the internet by tonight. And since we both smile the entire time, the pictures will lookreal. That’s really what we’re both hoping for.

Now, we find ourselves on a bench overlooking New York Harbor as Harlow continues to listen to me ramble on about history. “What would you say is your favorite historical fact?” she asks, glancing up from the spot where she’s taken residence on my shoulder.

“In all of history? That’s a lot of time, Lo.”

She laughs. “Fine. What’s your favorite random fact in American history, then?”

“Okay, did you know that Abraham Lincoln’s son, Robert, was present for three presidential assassinations?”

“What? He saw three of them?!”

“He did,” I reply. “He was in Washington when his father was assassinated in 1863. He was on the scene when President James Garfield was shot in 1881. Garfield didn’t die directly from the gunshot but developed sepsis from it, and that’s what ultimately killed him. Robert was then also present when President William McKinley was assassinated in 1901.”

“Apparently, that man needed to stay away from sitting presidents,” she laughs. “That’s insane.”

“And probably a bit morbid,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t shy away from a little morbidness.” She smiles at me again, and I think my heart skips a beat. I’ve been so closed off from everyone for so long that sitting with Harlow and having a conversation is just refreshing. I’m finding that I like her presence more and more.

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