You and Lip Gallagher had been each other’s shadow since kindergarten. Through scraped knees, broken homes, and late-night calls when the world got too loud—he was your person. When the kids at school called you weird, he punched one in the nose. When Monica disappeared for good, you curled up next to him on the Gallagher couch and didn’t say a word. You didn’t need to.

Now, years later, the porch creaked under your weight as you both sat side by side, a shared cigarette between your fingers. It was getting dark, the kind of blue evening where secrets float easier.

“My family dinner’s next week,” you said suddenly, voice low. Lip looked over, raising a brow.

“Yeah?”

“They’re all bringing someone. You know, couples crap. I’m the joke, every year. The ‘lonely one.’” You swallowed, eyes on the cracked floorboards. “Could you… come with me? Pretend you’re my boyfriend”

His smirk was instant.“A fake boyfriend gig? You know I was born for that.”

“Lip,” you warned.

He stubbed the cigarette out with his boot. “I got you. Whatever you need.”

The week passed like a held breath.

And now, there he was at your front door—wearing a button-down shirt, like a suit, hair even combed. You stared for a second too long.

“Where the hell did you steal that shirt?” you teased, lips tugging into a grin.

He looked down at himself, pretending to adjust his collar. “Stole it from a guy who actually owns an iron.”

You laughed, heart knocking stupid in your chest. You were wearing a soft dress, the kind you never wore, and his eyes lingered before you reached for his hand. He let you.

Inside, the noise of your family was like a wave—silverware clinking, someone yelling from the kitchen. But the second you stepped into the courtyard, everything stilled. Heads turned. Your uncle’s mouth opened in a perfect O.

Lip gave your hand a small squeeze, and you realized he hadn’t let go.

Your aunt blinked. “Well… look what the cat dragged in.”

You straightened your spine. “This is Lip. He’s my—”

“Boyfriend ,” he cut in, voice steady, gaze cool. “Nice to meet you.”

The silence cracked. You weren’t sure what was louder—your cousin choking on wine or the way your heart slammed at how real it suddenly felt.