Two more button clicks and the TV comes to life. “Promise you won’t laugh?” He sweeps his wineglass above an ivory leather couch, inviting me to sit. “Nope. I won’t promise that.” I opt for the floor instead, pulling one of the throw pillows into my lap as I sit down between the couch and coffee table. Three cushions line the length of the couch, but Devon picks one right behind me. I’d touch his legs if I leaned back. “But Allison, you can’t go to prom with Eric. You have to go with me.” Devon looks like a baby, jet-black hair and dazzling navy-rimmed eyes, playing the clichéd football star brooding over some bimbo cheerleader. I roar with laughter. “Okay, penguin arms! Were you fresh off the boat or was your acting coach that awful?” “Hey, easy!” Devon grimaces. “I’d never been in front of a camera before.”
