Edward, perhaps sensing weakness, croaks again and twitches. Like he’ll leap onto my face at the slightest provocation. My body tenses. Flight or fight. It’s fifty-fifty at the moment. I try to hide my terror with a stern warning look. His glassy half-lidded stare tells me he’s unimpressed.
“Edward, dearest.” At this Sarah gives his frog ass a little kiss. “Meet August Luck, our team’s new quarterback.”
So she knows who I am. Wonderful. She’ll probably record it if Edward tries to get personal.
“Edward?” I ask, one eye still on the frog. “Like fromTwilight?” Honestly, my sisters plague me with those damn movies whenever they can.
Sarah, however, sniffs as though she’s smelled something foul. “Certainly not.” She gives the frog a loving smile and sets him back on her shoulder. “Edward, as in Edward Hopper.”
“Ah. Because of the hopping. Cute.”
They both give me a look of disdain.
“Because he’s an artist.” She motions toward a framed painting. It’s a white canvas covered in a rainbow of squiggly smudges, presumably made by a paint-covered Edward hopping around with glee. But what do I know? Maybe he holds a paintbrush too.
Swallowing hard, I nod with due gravity. “You must be very proud.”
A snuffle, like a laugh quickly smothered, sounds to my right where Pen sits. I don’t look that way. If I make eye contact withher, I’m going to lose it. I doubt Sarah’s mood will improve if I crack up laughing in her living room.
I shift my weight on my feet, edging just a little bit away. But I’m ready to spring if shifty-eyed Edward does. It’s a game of chicken now. Sweat breaks out on my lower back.
Sarah doesn’t fill the silence but looks at me expectantly. Okay, then.
“So, how does his little hat stay on?” I push a smile. “Let me guess. Magic?”
Her upper lip curls. “Another comedian.” She shoots an accusatory glance at Pen, then thankfully moves away, heading for the back hall. “His hat stays on with a little elastic band, of course.” The orange of her ponytail swings with her stride. “Maybe try being less of a funny guy and concentrate more on playing football.”
At that, she stops and glares at me from over her shoulder. Edward does too. “True fans are counting on you,Luck.”
Unable to help myself, I give her a quick salute. Her eyes narrow, but she leaves without saying anything other than, “Turn off the record player when it’s done, Pen.”
As soon as she’s gone, I let out a breath and finally look at Pen. “She seems nice.”
“She has her moods but she’s okay.”
“I admit, I was not expecting the frog.”
Her laughter sounds so good and warm, my lingering tension vanishes. “No one does. I think she gets off on disarming people with him.”
She picks up her dishes, and I follow her into the kitchen. “I can’t believe it keeps the hat on.”
Pen grins wide, her brown eyes alight as she puts her plate and fork in the dishwasher. “I couldn’t either at first. But she’s got dozens of them.”
“Frogs?” The horror.
“Hats.” Pen laughs. “Cowboy hats, baseball caps, boaters, derbys, newsboy caps... you name it.”
“Dear God.”
“It’s cute.”
“If you say so.” I suppress a shudder.
“You don’t like the hats?”
“Frogs. They give me the willies. But don’t tell your roommate.”
“Oh, really?” The question is filled with glee. I would expect no less.
