The cards feel cool against my fingers as I shuffle the deck, watching Quentin from across the table. Julia's warning echoes in my mind - "Never play cards with Q" - but her words only made the challenge more enticing. Now she's gone, leaving us alone in the apartment with a half-empty candy bowl and the unspoken tension that always simmers between us.

Quentin smirks, already confident despite my winning streak against Julia earlier. "Nervous?" he asks, his voice casual but his eyes sharp with challenge.

I raise an eyebrow, fighting to maintain my composure as I deal the cards. "Why would I be nervous? I've already proven I'm the better player today."

"Strip poker's a different game," he says, his fingers lingering on each card as he picks up his hand. "More... revealing."

The double meaning isn't lost on me. My pulse quickens as I study his face, trying to read him. This is dangerous territory - Quentin knows me too well, can read my tells better than anyone. But I've never been one to back down from a challenge.

Especially not when the prize is getting him out of those clothes.

"Let's make it interesting then," I say, setting down my cards face-down. "Loser takes off an article of clothing. And when we're down to our underwear..."

"When you're down to your underwear," he corrects, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

I lean forward, lowering my voice. "When either of us is down to our underwear, the final hand winner decides the... forfeit."

Quentin's breath catches, just slightly, and I know I've got him. "Deal," he says, but there's something new in his expression - a confidence I haven't seen before.

This might be a bigger mistake than I realized.