“Wow, you look…different,” Emma says, her head tilting this way and that as she examines my features, a strange little smile in place. “Good, though. More…relaxed.” I run a self-conscious hand through my hair, which I’ve left ungelled because after Wes distracted me with sex the other night, I forgot to pack a few things. For some odd reason, though, I get the sense that Emma’s talking about more than just the hair; but I’m not about to volunteer that the main reason I seem more at ease lately is because of all the epic sex I’ve been having with her brother.
