“You know you can just say I like weed, right?”

“Heard that, too.”

He exhales a frustrated breath, and I cock my head, taking in his pinched expression. “Seriously, Salem. It was a stupid thing to do, but I’m willing to bet a lot of us are here for stupid reasons. I know I am, even if it wasn’t my fault.”

“Can you all just stay the hell out of my business, please?”

“After tonight, yes,” I promise, though we both know I’m lying. “But the girls are already coming, and Matt invited a couple of guys, too. It’s just gonna be a few people, playing poker. That’s it.”

“Why poker?”

Okay, well, at least his curiosity is beating out his anger. That’s a positive sign. We’ll see how that holds when I tell him the truth.

“Um, because I spent a ton of money I don’t actually have today at the mall, and I need to win it back.”

He snorts. “You know poker’s not, like, an automatic win, right? What if you lose even more money you don’t have?”

“I won’t.”

Silvery-gray eyes narrow to slivers. “Do you cheat?”

“I don’t have to,” I say honestly, because I have exactly one useful skill in the world and this is it. “I’m just really, really good.”

He cocks his head and sizes me up, clearly trying to decide if I’m being serious, and finally, he blows out a breath. “Okay. Fine. You can have your stupid party here,” Salem concedes, “but only because this is something I absolutely have to see.”

“You won’t regret it,” I say sweetly. “Well, unless you try playing against me.”

“Trash talk! From the little Barbie literally kneeling at my feet! I’m terrified.”

“You should be.” But I do get up and dust myself off, heading to the door. “Wear something decent. Jeans, at least, and the cologne you were wearing on Friday. Do not be barefoot. No weed. And clean up. If you want a girl to even think about getting into that bed, you need to make the damn bed.”

“Weren’t you leaving?”

“Try not to miss me too much.” But when I’m just about to step out the door, I hear Salem’s voice again, so quiet I’m almost not sure whether I was intended to hear it.

“I liked the unbraidable hair.”

My breath hitches, and for this of all things, I don’t have a comeback. So I simply pretend I did not, in fact, hear it, and leave.