Technically, guys and girls are only allowed in each other’s rooms during intervisitation hours in the evenings, but even more technically, that’s a dorm-based rather than gender-based rule, so I guess it’s okay? Neither Hoffman nor Dempsey had time to get into the finer logistics, especially since Hoffman was busy pouting that his precious bike would have to live in the bike racks with the—ew—students’.

I step aside and let him in.

“You didn’t bring any pictures?”

“Who prints pictures these days?” I ask airily, holding up my own phone. “I brought plenty.”

It’s a lie. I deleted almost all of them and hid the ones I couldn’t bear to part with but also couldn’t look at ever again.

His mouth twitches like he doesn’t quite believe me but he’s wisely decided to drop it. Clearly, he’s got bigger fish to fry. “Listen, I wanted to run something by you. Not that I need you to do anything,” he adds quickly. “It’s just … you’re not a narc, are you?”

“Me?” I blink. I don’t even know what to say to that very unexpected question.

“I didn’t think so. You seem like a cool girl.” It’s a canned line, but combined with his most charming smile and the biceps peeking out of his sleeves, I’m starting to Get It, even if he and his whole thing are not my type. “So, listen. I’ve kinda got an in at the housing office, and I specifically chose my room for its … discreet location. Every now and again, I get after-hours visitors who’d really like to be able to come and go as they please.”

“And you want them to come and go through my room? That’s—”

“No, of course not.” He points at my window. “I have a rope ladder. But it will go past your window. I just wanna make sure you’ll be … looking the other way.”

A rope ladder. Jesus. Salem was not kidding. “We’re talking fully consensual visitors?”

“Always,” he says firmly.

I shrug. “Then it’s fine with me. It’s your roommate you’re gonna have to work stuff out with.”

“Psh, Salem I can handle. You’re the one who makes me nervous,” he says with a wink. “Glad you’re chill.” He gives me a little punch on the shoulder, and I’m mad that I don’t hate it. “I gotta run, but I’ll catch you later. I owe you one.”