You’re already tired five minutes into your shift when you see your boss walking in with someone behind him—someone tall, smirking, and way too familiar.

Lip Gallagher.

He spots you immediately and stops dead in his tracks. “You work here?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

You cross your arms. “Unfortunately for both of us, yes.”

Lip laughs under his breath. “Well, lucky me. Guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

You don’t get the chance to argue before your boss claps his hands. “Great, now that you two know each other, maybe you can train him. He’ll shadow you today.”

Perfect. Exactly what you needed: Lip Gallagher glued to your hip.

It starts with little things.

You finish stocking your aisle first. Lip finishes his faster the next day. You ring up customers quicker. Lip beats your record by one second and rubs it in shamelessly.

“Try to keep up, genius,” he teases as he slings a box onto a shelf with annoying ease.

You shoot him a glare. “You mis-scanned half your last order.”

“Details,” he grins.

But he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking. Leans close when he “needs help.” Finds excuses to brush his shoulder against yours. And every time he smiles at you—really smiles—you feel that stupid rush in your chest.

At closing time, you race to see who can clean their section faster.

Lip finishes first. Of course he does.

He leans against the wall, arms folded, breathless from running around, sweat on his forehead, and that stupid cocky grin.

“So,” he says, “what do I win?”

You scoff. “You want a prize for doing your job?”

“Yeah,” he says, stepping closer. “Preferably something you’d have to give me.”