Gemma turned her back to the mirror and lifted up her shirt. When she looked over her shoulder, her jaw dropped. The massive bruise was nearly gone. It was only a blotch in the center of her back, and the color had even faded from a deep eggplant to a soft gray.

“That cannot be possible.” Gemma gaped at the reflection.

“Did you say something?” Alex called from the hallway.

“Uh … no.” She dropped her shirt, as if he’d be able to see through the door. “I was just talking to myself. I’ll be out in a sec.”

Hurriedly, she ran her fingers through her hair to comb it out. Even her hair didn’t seem as tangled as it usually was. All the salt water and chlorine were harsh on her hair, but it felt silkier than it had in years.

She didn’t have time to worry about it, though. Alex was waiting for her, and she wanted to hurry and see him while she still could. When she got home from work Harper would send him away, and Gemma had no idea when she’d get a minute alone with him again.

“It’s actually really good that you stopped by,” Gemma said as she opened the bathroom door. She’d expected him to be out in the hall waiting for her, but he wasn’t.

“Why is that?” Alex asked, his voice coming from her bedroom.

“Because I’m probably going to be grounded from now until the end of time.”

She went into her room, trying not to let on how nervous it made her, having him in her room. It wasn’t a bad nervous, but this was the first time she’d had a boy she dated in here. This wasn’t Alex’s first time in her room, but it was different somehow. She hadn’t wanted to kiss him before.

She glanced around quickly to make sure she didn’t have anything embarrassing out in the open. Her dirty bathing suit was crumpled up on the floor and her bed was unmade, but there wasn’t anything too bad. Maybe the poster of Michael Phelps on her wall, but Alex couldn’t really fault her for that.

Alex had been standing next to her bed, admiring the picture on her bedside table of her, Harper, and their mother. As soon as Gemma came in the room, he turned to face her, and his brown eyes widened. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He tried to set the picture back on the nightstand, but he wasn’t paying attention, and it fell to the floor.

“Sorry.” He scrambled to pick it up, and Gemma laughed.

“It’s okay.”

“No, I’m sorry.” He looked back at her, giving her a sheepish smile. “I’m so clumsy. You make me…”

“What?” She stepped closer to her bed, and his eyes stayed on her.

“I don’t know.” He laughed and furrowed his brow in confusion. “It’s like … I can’t think around you sometimes.”

“You can’t think?” Gemma asked dubiously and sat on the bed. “You’re the smartest person I know. How can you stop thinking?”