There was something about you that wound Lip Gallagher up the wrong way.

Maybe it was the way that your friends were always the loudest, the ones that laughed obnoxiously and yet seemed to get away with anything. Maybe it was the fact that you and your family always looked so put together despite living literally two doors down from him. Maybe it was the fact that you had a proper family, and still felt the need to hang around with his brother, his best friend, of all people.

He hates you, without a doubt. But he just has to put up with you, for Ian.

Every time you’re face to face, you’re met with sneers and snarky comments, sarcastic compliments, but sometimes…, just sometimes, you catch him looking. Looking at the curve of your ass or the peak of your collarbones so longingly.

God, he’s so confused. You’re so fucking frustrating.

He nearly, just nearly, turns around and walks straight back up the stairs when he sees you in the living room, on your own, Ian not even home. Why the fuck are you here and why do you look so fucking hot?..

It’s hard for him to act casually when he slumps down at the opposite end of the couch, because all he can think about is the fact that he was jerking off to your pictures on Facebook this morning. Oh fuck.

And with the way you’re dressed, sat there so invitingly… You’ve just got to be teasing him.

“Your own house blow away or somethin’?…”