1

It's a snowy day on the South Side of Chicago.The kind of cold that cuts through your jacket and settles in your bones.

The days feel longer now—darker, heavier—and the tension in the house is thick enough to warm it.

Lip started drinking again.He tried to hide it for a while, but that didn't last long. I knew the signs before he even opened his mouth.

He started college two weeks ago, so I haven't seen much of him lately. We text. We call. But it's not the same.I miss him, and I think that's starting to scare me more than anything else.

We managed to smooth things over with Fiona and Sean. Long story short: they broke up. Fiona's heartbroken, but honestly? It was only a matter of time.

Lip invited me to a party at his dorm tonight.Debbie's watching Lucas for me, and Conner and Carl are supposed to be watching each other... but let's be real—something's bound to go wrong by the end of the night.

It's 3:30 now. I have to leave by 4:15 if I want to catch the L and meet up with Lip by 5.

Lucas and Conner headed over to the Gallaghers early, so for once, the house is silent.It's weird—too quiet—but I'm not complaining.

I turn on some music, loud enough to fill the empty space, and start getting ready.

Lip said it's nothing fancy, so I go for something simple: a short black skirt, a white crop top, and my thickest black tights. I'll freeze on the walk to the train, but once I'm inside the party, I'll be fine.

I brush through my hair, put on a little makeup, and give myself a quick spin in the mirror.My reflection is flushed from the heat of the room and the anticipation tightening in my chest.

"Not bad," I murmur to myself with a smirk.

I grab my purse, throw on my jacket, and step out into the cold.

The snow crunches beneath my boots as I walk.The sky is already starting to dim, casting the city in that late-afternoon winter blue. My breath fogs the air in front of me, and I tuck my hands deep into my pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind.

The L platform is half-empty when I get there. I wait with my earbuds in, music loud in one ear and the city buzzing faintly in the other.

The train screeches to a stop and I climb aboard, sliding into a seat by the window.The ride is short but quiet. Too quiet, really.

My phone buzzes in my hand.Lip: Lobby in 10?Me: On my way.

I look up. My stop is next.

I stand and steady myself as the train jerks forward, my reflection in the glass looking nervous and excited all at once.

The doors slide open. Cold air rushes in.

I step off the train—

And that's when I see him.

I clear my throat, and his head lifts, a grin already pulling at his mouth the second he sees me.

I practically run to him, throwing my arms around his neck. He catches me with a low chuckle, his hands immediately settling on my ass like he owns me.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs into my ear, breath warm against my cheek.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Gallagher," I smirk, pulling back just enough to look at him—though not for long.

He pulls me right back in, hands sliding up my sides as he kisses me—long and hard—like he's been starving and I'm the only thing that could ever satisfy him.

"Hey," he says between kisses, "we've got like thirty minutes before the party actually starts. Wanna take a little detour to my dorm?"

"Duh." I grin, already tugging at his hand.

We move fast through the snow-dusted sidewalk and into his building. He's practically dragging me down the hall, both of us laughing, trying not to trip over ourselves as we reach his door.

The second it clicks shut behind us, he has me backed against it, his mouth on mine, fingers fumbling at the hem of my top.

"What if your roommate walks in?" I manage to say, though my voice is breathless and my hands are already sliding under his hoodie.

"He won't. He's always gone from five to nine," Lip mumbles as he picks me up, carrying me the short distance to the bed.

I fall back into the mattress, my heart racing as his mouth moves down my chest, leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses along my skin.

"I missed you," he says, voice low, and I arch into him instinctively.

"Yeah, me too," I breathe, running my hands through his hair. "Like crazy."

Clothes disappear fast. He moves inside me like he never forgot how—like he never could. We move together slowly, deeply, every touch lingering, like we're trying to make up for the time apart.

I whisper his name and he groans, gripping my waist and moving harder.

We switch and I climb on top of him, hands on his chest, hips rolling slow and steady.

"You know, you could visit more often," he says, trying to sound casual but completely out of breath.

"Yeah?" I grin, leaning down until my mouth brushes his. "So could you."

We finish tangled together, breaths uneven, bodies flushed. He pulls me down into his chest, arms wrapped around me tight as he drags the covers over us.

For a few moments, we just lay there, quiet except for the steady sound of his heart against my cheek.

Eventually, I stretch, already reaching for my clothes. "Okay, well... I think it's time for us to go."

"Boooo," he groans dramatically, grabbing a pillow and half-heartedly chucking it at me.

I laugh and dodge it, hopping around the room as I wiggle into my skirt. He gets dressed slower, eyes on me the entire time.

As he throws on his hoodie, he grins. "You know, I'd be way more into this party if we were just gonna sit in the corner and make out the whole time."

"We still can," I tease. "But only if you don't say anything too dumb in the next hour."

He opens the door and we step into the hallway, the warm air buzzing with music from other rooms, distant voices echoing around us.

"So," he says, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we walk, "when are you gonna let me show off my Duolingo skills again?"

I smirk. "You mean when you butcher basic Spanish and act like it's impressive?"

He bumps me with his hip. "Hey, I've been practicing."

"Oh really?" I say, raising a brow. "Hit me with something then."

"Te ves muy, muy sexy esta noche," he says, slow and confident.

I give him a look. "You looked that one up right before I got here, didn't you?"

"Maybe." He shrugs.

I grin. "I like the enthusiasm, Gallagher."

We round the corner, the sound of bass thudding louder with every step.

The party is just ahead.

"Is now a good time to say I've never really been to a real party?" I ask as we step into a hallway crammed with college students.

"You'll be fine," Lip says, squeezing my hand. "Just have fun. Be yourself."

"That's dangerous advice."

He grins. "Yeah, well, it's a dangerous party."

The music is already pounding through the walls before we even step inside. Once the door opens, it's like getting hit in the face with noise, heat, and the unmistakable stench of cheap beer and body spray. A group of guys are doing shots off a plastic ironing board. Someone's trying to dance with a traffic cone on their head.

"You know what—what the hell," I say with a shrug. "I'm getting us drinks."

Lip nods and disappears into the crowd while I head toward the makeshift bar table in the corner, dodging elbows and red solo cups.

"Hey," a voice calls from behind me. I turn around and see a tall blonde guy, definitely drunk, definitely staring too hard.

"Hi. Can I help you?" I ask, casually grabbing two beers.

"You're beautiful," he slurs over the music.

"Thanks. My boyfriend thinks so too," I say, offering a tight smile as I brush past him.

As I make my way back toward Lip, I spot him talking to a blonde girl near the window. She's laughing a little too loud, leaning in closer than necessary. He points to some guy across the room, but her eyes are glued to him.

I inch closer, just in time to hear—

"Why don't you go and flirt with him?" Lip says, nodding toward the guy.

"How?" she giggles, definitely putting on a show.

"Like how you're doing with me," he replies, clearly over it.

"Yeah, but you're a freshman—it's easy," she purrs, batting her lashes.

"Yeah? Well, I fuck like a sophomore," he fires back.

I step in before she can respond.

"Hey, Lip! Got our drinks. And hi, I'm Erin—his girlfriend." I flash my most polite smile and offer her a hand.

The girl's face turns a shade paler. "Oh—I was just asking him a question. I'll, uh—I'll leave you guys alone."

She vanishes into the crowd.

I hand Lip his drink and stare him down. "I fuck like a sophomore. Seriously?"

"What? I panicked," he says with a shrug, trying not to laugh.

I sip my beer. "You really thought that was a flex?"

He takes a long swig and smirks. "Come on, it was kind of funny."

"Sure. You're hilarious. But for the record, I'd say more junior year."

That makes him crack up. "Damn right."

The rest of the party is chaotic in the best way. We end up dancing in the middle of the room—badly. Lip does this weird shimmy that I promise I'll never let him forget. Someone hands us jello shots. We take them without asking what's in them. At one point, Lip tries to prove he can beat someone at beer pong and loses miserably.

"You suck," I laugh as another ping pong ball bounces off the rim.

"Rematch," he says. "You'll be on my team this time. We're unstoppable."

We are not.

By the time the party starts to die down, it's close to 2 a.m. and we're stumbling out into the cold with a half-empty bottle of something that tastes like paint thinner.

"Why does my face feel like it's vibrating?" I ask as we walk back to his dorm.

"Because your body's rejecting whatever that blue drink was," Lip says, draping his arm around my shoulder. "You did like three shots in five minutes. I'm impressed."

"I was trying to catch up with you."

"Rookie mistake." He kisses the side of my head. "You good?"

"Yep. Little dizzy. Still hot, though."

"You are. Just slightly more slurred than usual."

We barely make it to his dorm before collapsing into bed in a heap of limbs and laughter. He's warm, even if his feet are freezing. At some point he tries to make a dramatic speech about being in love with me but forgets what he was saying halfway through and falls asleep with one leg hanging off the bed.

The next morning, I wake up to sunlight slicing through the window and a dull, throbbing ache behind my eyes. Lip's snoring lightly, one arm flopped over my stomach, hair a total mess.

I groan, pressing my face into the pillow. "Ugh. Who let us do that?"

"Your idea," Lip mutters, eyes still closed.

"Liar."

He cracks one eye open. "You said, and I quote, 'What the hell, I'm feeling spontaneous.'"

I squint at him. "I hate that version of me."

He grins. "I like her. She's fun."

I shove him lightly, and he just pulls me closer, beer breath and all.

"Ugh, Gallagher. Shower. Immediately."

"Make me."

"Fine. Then I'm stealing all the blankets."

"Rude."

We groan and stretch and kiss and stall like two idiots who know damn well they have places to be—but don't really care just yet.

The room smells like stale beer, sleep, and whatever was in that blue drink last night. My mouth is dry, my head is pounding, and Lip's arm is still heavy across my stomach like a damn sandbag.

I blink blearily at the ceiling. "Okay... maybe I did say something about being spontaneous."

"Told you," Lip mumbles into the pillow, his voice gravelly. "You also said you were going to start a mosh pit."

I groan. "Did I?"

"Almost. You threw a ping pong ball at some dude's forehead and yelled 'anarchy.'"

I laugh—instantly regret it. "Ow. No more jokes. My skull feels like it's pulsing."

Lip stretches next to me, one leg kicking off the tangled blanket. "Hangover cure?"

"Yeah," I say, sitting up slowly. "Coffee, water, greasy food, and about six hours of silence."

"Hot," he says, rubbing his face. "I'll walk you home after we hit the dining hall."

⸻

The dining hall is aggressively fluorescent and too full of loud voices and burnt toast. We sit hunched in the corner booth like vampires avoiding the sun, sipping black coffee and picking at the greasiest things we can find.

"I think my hash brown is still frozen in the middle," I say.

Lip shrugs. "Just pretend it's a popsicle."

Some guy walks by and high-fives Lip. "Yo, sophomore!"

Lip flips him off without even looking up.

"Unreal," I mutter.

"Hey," he says, mouth full of egg. "You're the one who said junior."

"And I stand by it. But don't let it go to your head."

He smirks. "Too late."

⸻

It's almost noon when we finally make it back to my place, trudging through slushy sidewalks, the snow now more gray than white. The Gallaghers' house is alive with noise, as usual.

Carl opens the door before we even knock.

"Dude," he says to Lip. "Conner stabbed me."

Conner appears behind him with a butter knife. "It barely broke skin."

"Are you kidding me?" I step past them both and scoop Conner by the arm. "Give me that. Now."

"Tell him to stop trying to sit on my head!"

"I told you it was a wrestling move!" Carl yells, holding up a tissue with a suspicious red spot.

Debbie passes by in the hallway with Lucas on her hip, looking frazzled. "He threw up twice, Erin. I think he ate something at breakfast that wasn't food."

Lucas waves at me sleepily. "Hi Erin. Carl said ketchup counts as fruit."

"Oh my god." I look at Lip. "Never again."

He shrugs. "Could've been worse."

"How?"

"We could've brought them to the party."

Fair point.

Upstairs, I help Lucas change into new clothes while Conner sits in time out (aka sulking on the couch like a gremlin). Lip leans against the doorway with that lazy smirk that says this is chaos, but it's mine too now.

When things finally calm down—well, calm enough—we walk outside together. The air bites a little more than before, and the street is quiet, blanketed in new snow. Just us and the crunch of boots on the sidewalk.

"I should get back," he says, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. "Got class tomorrow."

I nod, even though I don't want to. "Yeah."

We stop at the edge of the street. Neither of us moves.

"Thanks for coming last night," he says, eyes still on mine. "You being there... it made the night better. And a hell of a lot funnier."

"Yeah," I say, nudging his side. "It was fun. You were an idiot, but it was fun."

"I'm charming when I'm drunk," he says, stepping closer.

"Mm. That's a strong word for someone who started a dance circle alone."

He grins. "I was the glue holding that party together."

"You were the glue stick melting in the corner," I laugh.

He chuckles under his breath, then gets quiet. His gaze lingers on me like he's memorizing something.

"I love you, you know," he says suddenly, like it's been sitting in his chest for hours and just now made it out. "Even when I suck at showing it."

I blink, caught off guard. But only for a second.

"I love you too," I say softly. "Even when you say things like 'I fuck like a sophomore.'"

He groans, pressing his forehead against mine. "I knew that line was gonna haunt me."

"It's already written in the family history books."

We laugh quietly, our noses brushing, and then he kisses me—slow, solid, and real. The kind of kiss that feels like we've done this a hundred times and still mean it more every time.

"I'll come by this week," he murmurs when we finally pull apart, breath clouding between us.

"You better," I say, fingers still curled into the front of his hoodie.

"I will," he promises, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. "Text me when you're home safe, okay?"

"Okay."

He backs away a step, then another, eyes never leaving mine.

"I love you," he says again, like he just wants me to hear it one more time.

"I love you too, Gallagher."

He flashes me a tired grin, turns, and starts walking toward the L.

And I stand there for a minute longer, heart full, toes frozen, watching the boy I love disappear into the snow.