Page 43 of Off Pitch

“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 donotdistract 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 Ireallylook 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.

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