Lip Gallagher had been working at the campus cafeteria for a while now. Between juggling his studies and scraping together money, this job was his lifeline. The place was chaotic, full of stressed students, and the kind of small, messy kitchen that somehow felt like a safe zone. He didn’t know many people on campus, but working here meant he saw everyone’s worst mornings and their tired attempts at coffee-fueled survival.

You showed up at the cafeteria one Monday, new and a bit nervous. You’d found yourself short on cash, and working here seemed like the most straightforward option. The first few days, you kept to yourself, keeping your head down as you learned the ropes. Lip noticed you almost immediately—the quiet new girl who didn’t say much but moved with a careful confidence behind the counter. After a few shifts, he decided to break the silence.

“Hey,” he said one slow afternoon, “I’m Lip. You new here or what?”

You nodded, shy but grateful. He leaned against the counter, explaining how things worked—when the rush hit, what the regulars liked, and how to handle the cranky old customers who acted like the world owed them good service.

The first few weeks were awkward but steady. You didn’t talk much beyond the job, but little bits spilled out—his quick remarks about classes, your sighs over a tough schedule. Then, a month in, something shifted. The workday ended and instead of rushing out, you two found yourself hanging back, swapping stories between coffee orders and burnt toast.

This morning, you pushed open the employee door, like every day, and said your usual, “Morning, Gallagher.”

He was already there, hands on the coffee maker, steam swirling up in lazy spirals. He glanced up, smirked. “You made it on time. Miracle.”

You shrugged, pulling your apron tighter. “Barely.”

Lip nodded, filling two mugs. “Coffee. You need it.”

You hesitated before blurting out, “Hey, so… something weird happened in class.” You pulled out a crumpled paper from your pocket, sliding it toward him. “Can you… read this? I don’t even know what to think.”

Lip took it, eyebrows raised, scanning the messy handwriting.

He cleared his throat and read aloud, “Hey sexy. I’ve been watching you. The way you bite your lip, the way your thighs look when you cross ‘em… You don’t know what you’re missing. Meet me behind the library tonight. I’ll make you scream so loud the whole campus will hear. Don’t tell anyone. This is our secret.”

He looked up, arching a brow, kinda getting mad. “What the fuck ? Who writes this shit?”

You shrugged, biting your lip. “Some guy in my psychology class. Creepy, right?”

Lip shook his head with a half-smile. “Yeah, that’s… weird as fuck. But also kinda pathetic. You don’t need that drama.”

You both chuckled softly, the easy rhythm between you breaking the awkwardness.

Then Lip’s smile faded a bit, voice low, “You alright, though? You seem… off.”

You hesitated, then nodded, not ready to say more.

He handed the note back. “If it gets worse, you tell me. I’m good with weirdos.”