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“Of course it matters! You’re supposed to be finding a Match and…” She was suddenly morbidly aware of how close she was standing to Kahn’s barber chair. “I’m going to go supervise Julius.”

“No!” Kahn protested before she could flee. “I need you.”

She edged backward another step. “For what?”

“Moral support.”

“You don’t like my morals.”

He frowned in self-disgust. “I’ve been difficult with you. I get that.”

“Do you?” She doubted it.

“I do. Saying the wrong thing is my default setting.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do better, then.”

“I will. I won’t be an ass. I swear.” Dark eyes met hers, willing her to believe him. “I don’t like the idea of my hair getting cut. Stay and help me get through it.”

He almost sounded sincere. She still didn’t forgive him, but it was enough to sway her resolve. Calling herself a sucker, Randa sighed and settled into the chair next to him.

Kahn’s expression brightened, pleased that she’d acquiesced. “Thanks.”

“It’s fine.”

She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say next, so she focused on the paintings hanging on the walls. The spa had a subtle southwestern theme, which didn’t make much sense in Florida, but was still pleasant. The art depicted the Ancient Puebloan dwellings at Mesa Verde National Park. They reminded Randa of the Stone Kingdom, which also constructed their buildings on cliffs. She’d grown up fearless of heights. Huge canyons, no railings, and long balconies had been the norm in her House.

The painting to the left really reminded her of Heart Stone Academy. It made her miss her grandmother. She pretended to study it, hoping Kahn would just ignore her.

Kahn did not ignore her.

He shifted so he was sitting sideways, facing her chair. He seemed far more interested in talking to her than in his makeover. “Are you really going to make me wear that dumb shirt with the alligators?”

Her head snapped around in shock. “It’s Lacoste.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means yes, you have to wear it. It’s tasteful and expensive.”

“I don’t like it, though.”

Just that fast, he was back to being difficult. “It doesn’t matter if you like it. It matters that girls like it. Finding you a Match is the only goal here, and you look amazing in that shirt.”

Kahn stared at her. “You think I look amazing?”

Randa stifled a wince, unwilling to admit how devastatingly handsome she found him. (Not that she was attracted to his handsomeness. She just noted that he was factually handsome. It was a scientific observation.) “I mean… You could definitely look worse.” She muttered, not meeting his eyes. “The shirt will help you attract the right sort of woman.”

“The kind that wants little alligators?”

“Someone respectable. Who will not just use you for sex. Who is ready to find a partner. Who will treat you well and have an emotional connection to you.”

Kahn kept staring at her.

Randa frowned. Polo shirts were entirely proper attire for a casual human outing. Even Randa’s grandmother would have approved, if she hadn’t died before they were invented. “What?” She demanded when he stayed silent.

“Just… you really are trying to find us Matches.”

“Of course I am. That was the deal.”