My lips fell open as a flock of butterflies fluttered wildly in my belly. I clenched involuntarily at the unfamiliar sensation. Diego sauntered over to us, looking from me on the floor to the boy and the magazine in his hands. Diego’s olive eyes, the same color as mine, flashed with annoyance as he snatched the magazine from the boy. “Gemma, you aren’t supposed to read this shit! Nonna is going to wash your mouth with soap if she finds out.” “She only threatens to wash my mouth with soap if I say bad words, not if I read them.” “It’s worse. You’ll be grounded for weeks,” Diego muttered.
