Page 40 of Off Pitch

We part after a few more soft kisses. “That, uh… that should convince them,” she says, uncertainty in her tone. She seems to be affected by the kiss the same way I am.

“Yeah, that should do it,” I say hesitantly. “You’re not a terrible kisser, so we should be able to sell it.”

Harlow pushes me teasingly. “Not terrible? I’m appalled, Spencer. I’m much better than not terrible.”

“Hmm,” I say, pretending to think. “I guess I could take it a step up and say you’re a decent kisser.”

“You fucking suck,” she says, laughing and taking a sip of her strawberry milkshake.

“And you fake love me anyway,” I reply with a wink, earning a head shake from Harlow.

“Are you gonna eat that cherry, Slick?” she asks, pointing directly at my milkshake. “It’s just sitting there, tempting me.”

“Nah, I’m not big on cherries. You want it?” She nods. Instead of sliding my glass over to her so she can grab the cherry, I pluck it from the whipped cream myself and bring it over to her lips. And she bites it from the stem.

I feel my dick stiffen against my jeans as she makes an O with her lips when she takes the cherry, leaving me wondering howthose lips would look wrapped around my cock. Wondering if Harlow would moan like she did as she sipped that coffee if she was underneath me.

I shouldnotbe thinking about her like this. This isn’t a real relationship, and she’s my friend’s sister. Even thinking about crossing that line is a bad idea. But I can play the thought in my head as I take another goddamn shower when I get back to my place later.

I won’t deny that I’m attracted to Harlow. God, I have been since I first saw her. Now that she’s a friend, that attraction isn’t just physical—she’s incredible. But that doesn’t mean I don’t physically want her because Ireallyfucking want her. Doesn’t mean I get her, though. I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing now, pushing all those thoughts down.

Even if she smiles at me the way she does, teases me the way she does,ogles me the way she does.

…

I’m so fucked.

eighteen

Harlow

“Fuck…,“ I breathe out as my bullet vibrator works its magic against my clit. My waterproof companion has taken up permanent residence in my shower as of late. Knox has my hormones going wild like I’m a goddamn teenager again.

Knox spends his mornings shirtless, so when I see him before practice, I’m always left with an image to think of when I’m doing what I’m doing right now. That first full day we spent together—the day we walked around The Battery a month ago—sparked something in me. He was always good-looking, but now he’s so fuckingalluring. So, in order to not cross a line into a territory we had best not visit, I take care of myself in the shower, imagining it’s him.

God, I sound pathetic. Especially when there’s no way in hell he’s thinking of me the way I’ve been thinking of him. He’s opened up so much more over the past month, and we’ve actually gotten very close now, but I’m not the type of girl he’d ever be interested in. He could have his pick of any actual bat bunnies or even celebrities. He’d never want someone like me. And that’s okay. I’m fine with that.

That’s what I’m telling myself, at least.

I lean back against the cold tile of my shower as my breathing intensifies, waiting for my release. And the orgasm that rips through me shortly after leaves me almost completely sated. I say almost because outside of actual sex with Knox, I don’t think I’ll ever be fully satisfied. But since that’s a line I don’t want to cross, this has to be enough.

I don’t have time to worry about that right now, though. Lane has agreed to do an interview with me forStarred and Fastbefore tonight’s game. Rory’s interview was well-received, and I’ve done several more staff members. Still, Lane will be the first player I’m interviewing, and I know my followers will love it.

After I hop out of the shower and dry my hair, I throw on mySpencerStars jersey with a white tank underneath, leaving the jersey open, a pair of jeans, and my favorite Chucks. I opt for some light makeup today, and then I’m on my way to Lane’s.

After a twenty-five-minute subway ride into Soho, I find myself at Lane’s building. Like Knox, Lane lives in a penthouse, so after the door attendant lets me inside, I start the slow ascent to the top floor. A few minutes later, the doors open into his penthouse, and I’m greeted by Lane, who is evidently waiting for my arrival.

“Hey, Lo,” Lane says, gesturing me inside. “Welcome back to La Casa de Brooks. Rory has Sage in her room, so we’ll have some quiet for a bit.”

“Perfect. Thanks for doing this, Lane. I know my readers are really going to enjoy it.”

“Anything for Knox’s girlfriend,” he says with amusement as we both find our places on his couch.

“Fake girlfriend,” I correct.

“We’ll see about that,” Lane replies with a smirk. I just roll my eyes.

“Between you and everyone else, Knox and I will be miserable for the rest of the season.”

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