The Gallagher house is loud—always is. Music blares from the living room, someone’s yelling from upstairs, and there’s a very specific kind of chaos that only exists when too many people live too close together. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, half-focused on a mug of coffee, when you notice Lip smirking at his phone.

Ian leans against the counter, arms crossed, trying—and failing—to look innocent.

“What?” you ask, suspicious.

Lip looks up. “Nothing. Just wondering how long it’s gonna take.”

“Take for what?”

Across the room, Fiona freezes for half a second. Not enough for anyone else to notice—but you do. She doesn’t look at you. Instead, she busies herself with wiping down a counter that’s already clean.

Ian clears his throat. “We’ve got a pool going.”

Your stomach drops. “A pool for what?”

Lip grins wider. “When you and Fiona finally kiss.”

Silence. Absolute, deadly silence.

Fiona turns slowly. “You are disgusting,” she snaps, but there’s color creeping into her cheeks. “Both of you.”

Lip shrugs. “Hey, we’re not blind. You hover around each other like idiots.”

Ian nods. “Two weeks is my guess.”

“Three days,” Lip counters.

You open your mouth to argue—to deny it, laugh it off, do anything—but Fiona beats you to it. “It’s not happening,” she says firmly, finally meeting your eyes. Something unreadable passes between you. “Right?”