I took a seat and watched Calvin work the grill while Charlotte stared at him longingly. How could he not see how she felt about him? That girl was more than in love. She was obsessed. Maybe he knew that. And maybe he liked the attention. But why the hell was she dressed like me? I looked down at my clothing, then back at hers, and considered changing into something else. But imitation was the sincerest form of flattery.
