Lip sat on the sink, cigarette between his fingers, eyes flicking up as you pushed open the grimy bathroom door. “Took you long enough,” he muttered, smirking.

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the wall. “Not all of us can ditch class without getting side-eyed by every teacher.”

Lip took a drag, exhaling slowly. “That’s the trick—you gotta make them expect nothing from you.”

You crossed your arms. “Yeah? And what exactly do they expect from you?”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Bad attitude. Occasional genius. General delinquency. You know, the usual.”

You snorted. “Speaking of genius, I heard about your little side hustle.”

Lip arched a brow. “Oh yeah? And what exactly did you hear?”

You leaned in. “That you’re selling fake test answers, and somehow they actually work.”

Lip grinned, flicking ash into the sink. “Hey, I don’t do fake. If I’m gonna scam people, I at least give ‘em quality.”

He laughed, shaking his head, lowering his voice, “I need a favor.”

Your smirk faded. U studied him for a second. “What kind of favor?”