“Does she look like you?” Boy, he is full of questions. “No,” I snort. “She’s like my mom’s mini me. Everyone thinks they’re sisters when we go out. I look just like my dad. Well, except my hair.” I pull at the ends of the long, curly strands. “Everyone in my family, except my sister and dad have my hair, it’s all from my mom’s side. Though, hers looks like natural beach waves; mine usually looks like a lion stuck his claw into a socket.” Fletcher doesn’t laugh with me; he just stares at the curls resting on my shoulder for a beat. “I like your hair.” Judging by how he‘s looking at it right
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