Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Before I can do anything more than sit straight, Sarah rounds the corner and enters the main living room with August in tow. He spots me immediately.
He smiles with his eyes. The thought hits me in the solar plexus. How had I never noticed this before? Oh, there’s a small curl to his lips, polite and reserved, the kind I’ve seen on August’s face many times before. But his eyes? They’re lit with a glow of pleasure that makes me want to beam with happiness, and spreads a glowing warmth through my belly.
I think I’ve waited my whole life for August Luck to look at me like this, and now that he is, I don’t know what to do with myself. My hands flutter about like butterfly wings before I shove them in my lap and give him a dignified “Hello, August.”
It only makes the smile spread over his whole face. God, he’s like the sun breaking over bleak hills.
“Hello, Penelope.” He uses the same proper tone, but I hear the humor in his voice all the same. It’s as though we’re sharing a private joke, only I’ve forgotten the punch line. All the same, I feel like smiling wide. I don’t, of course. Sarah is hovering, mouth agape as she stares at August. As if feeling her gaze, he glances back at her, and his “dealing with the public” expression returns.
I shove back my chair and stand. “Sarah, this is August. He’s ah . . . an old friend. August, Sarah is my roommate.”
At that moment, as if to voice his protest in being ignored, Edward perks up and lets out a loud croak.
August nearly jumps out of his skin. His wide-eyed gaze zeroes in on Edward and he turns decidedly pale. Despite this, he clearly makes an effort not to react further. No, August Luck, King of Control, merely bows his head. “Good day to you too, sir.”
In less than five minutes he’s made my whole day better. I’m in big trouble.
August
Pen’s roommate looks like she’s cosplaying Daphne from Scooby-Doo, right down to the orange hair. I do mean orange, not red. She’s been eyeing me from the moment she opened the door. And frankly, I’d been too distracted by those long, gawking looks to notice her companion. Until he croaked.
He’s all I notice now. Because sitting on the roommate’s shoulder, is a fucking enormous frog, wearing a jaunty purple top hat. A top hat just like the Mad Hatter’s from Alice in Wonderland. There’s even a tiny “10/6” ticket tucked into the hatband.
I blink again, wondering if I tripped up somewhere and fell down a rabbit hole.
“Where are my manners,” Sarah says, shooting a glare at Pen before picking up the frog and presenting him to me on the palm of her hand. “This is Edward.”
Years ago, I came across my parents laughing their asses off while watching an old ’50s cartoon of a frog in a top hat who would sing and dance for his owner, but only when no one else was looking. I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if Edward here does the same.
“Ah . . . good to meet you, Edward.” I am not shaking hands. It’s all I can do to keep from diving over the red lip-shaped coffee table and hide behind Pen. I’m not ashamed to admit: Frogs give me the creeps. I’m not going to admit this out loud, however. I have the feeling Sarah would brain me if I did.
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 from Twilight?” 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 with her, I’m going to lose it. I doubt Sarah’s mood will improve if I crack up laughing in her living room.