There is nothing unusual about my hair. Except for the fact that my sister and I share its light shade, but no one else in our family does. Blonde hair is not common in the Italian community. Bianca and I are the only ones who take after our Norwegian grandmother.
He takes a few strands between his gloved fingers, lightly brushing the locks.
Tell him to stop! He’s crossing boundaries. You can’t let a random stranger do that.
I ignore the voice of reason completely and look at the strand of hair he’s holding, noticing he’s only using the first three digits, while the other two remain slightly rigid and bent. I wonder what happened with his hand.
“So, you were waiting for me,” I say. “Why?”
“Is there anything wrong with my wanting to take a beautiful woman out to lunch?”
“That usually
