"You." It wasn't a question. More of a statement. He couldn't have been much older than her. If she'd wanted a teenage boy to do her hair, she would have gone over Sarah's house and asked Wes. Not that she trusted Wes with cutting her ha-- wait. Wes. She narrowed her eyes at the boy in front of her, suddenly realizing that she knew him. Yep, she definitely knew him. Wasn't he like, Wes' best friend or something?
Whatever. It wasn't important right now. "If you come near me with a pair of scissors, I'm going to leave." Rielle wasn't going to trust some... raggedy-muffin-hooligan (she was assuming because he'd had his feet up on the appointment book)... near her perfect head of hair. "But I suppose you can give me my scalp massage and what not." She stood, took off her jacket and folded it neatly across the seat she'd cleaned.