Your first day volunteering at the community center is… chaotic. Kids everywhere, papers scattered, someone screaming about losing a shoe. Exactly the kind of place you signed up for.

You’re helping a twelve-year-old glue macaroni onto cardboard when the front door swings open, and in walks Lip Gallagher.

He looks around once, spots you immediately, and freezes like you weren’t supposed to actually exist.

“Uh… hey,” he says, pretending to act casual. He does a bad job. “Didn’t know you volunteered here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really? Because you’re here every day this week.”

Lip opens his mouth like he has a great excuse, then shuts it again. “…Coincidence.”

Right. Sure.

He wanders over under the pretense of “helping,” which mostly means leaning over your shoulder, handing you supplies you didn’t ask for, and glaring at any guy who gets within two feet of you.

When you move to the supply closet, he follows. When you go to check on the younger kids, he follows. When you go to get water—yep. He’s right there.

“Lip,” you say finally, turning to him. “If you’re going to stalk me, at least admit it so I don’t have to keep pretending it’s normal.”

He scoffs, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m not stalking you. I just—” He swallows. Looks away. “I like being around you.”

You blink. That was… honest. Too honest for Lip, usually.

“So you show up here to see me?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, voice low. “I mean, I figured you wouldn’t mind. And if you did, you’d tell me to screw off, so.” He smirks. “Since you haven’t, I’m taking it as a good sign.”