Lip Gallagher had rules. Or at least, he used to. No dating apps. No fake conversations. No putting yourself out there for people to judge and swipe away. That was for desperate people. Lonely, delusional, “please-like-me” people. Not him.

But that was before Fiona cornered him in the kitchen after an AA meeting, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “You’ve been doing good, Lip. Meetings. Staying sober. Maybe it’s time.” Ian had doubled down with his usual earnestness. “You deserve something real. Doesn’t have to be forever. Just… something.”

He rolled his eyes, lit a cigarette, and mumbled something about it all being bullshit. But the next night, he downloaded the app.

Three weeks of nothing. Matches that fizzled in minutes. People who talked like self-help books. “High vibration energy.” “Looking for good vibes only.” He hated every second of it. Every conversation felt like a performance. And maybe he wasn’t built for that anymore. Or maybe he never was.

Tonight, he was ready to kill it for good. It was late. Quiet. The kind of silence that hangs heavy in South Side nights. His bedroom lit only by the glow of his phone. Thumb hovering over delete account—

Ping.

New match.

He blinked. Thought it was a glitch. But no—you were there. No filters, no forced poses. Just you. A real smile. A real face. And a bio that didn’t make him want to throw his phone. You liked books, sarcasm, and walking around at night.

He didn’t move. Just stared at the screen like it might vanish if he blinked. Something about your eyes—direct, unbothered, a little bit tired but still awake—made him sit up straighter.

He wasn’t ready for this. But he also didn’t want to close the app. Not yet.

So he typed the only word that didn’t feel fake.

“Hey.”

Sent.

Then he leaned back, phone resting on his chest, staring at the cracks in his ceiling. This was stupid. He was stupid. But something about it didn’t feel like all the other times.

For once, he wasn’t thinking about messing everything up. He was just thinking about you.

Then—three dots. Typing.