Chapter Text
Ronan didn’t hate his job.
He didn’t. For all that he made a point of complaining about it to anyone willing to listen, Ronan didn’t mind being a barista at Cabeswater all that much. Ronan certainly never thought he would work behind a counter in his life, but after Blue had told Gansey that her family’s coffee shop was understaffed for the busy season and Gansey had immediately jumped the gun and volunteered both of them in one of his desperate attempts at impressing Blue, Ronan had, after much pleading and persuading, graciously agreed to help out. (Not that he had much of a choice anyway, because Blue had told her family that they would do it before Ronan even agreed, and Calla was one of the few people Ronan had enough self-preservation to know not to cross. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.)
He didn’t regret it, partly because watching Gansey bend over backwards to get in Maura Sargent’s good graces was one of the highlights of Ronan’s day, but mostly because Ronan liked that it made him feel useful and allowed him to spend his time in a more productive way than driving around aimlessly or lying on his bed doing nothing at all. Once he got used to the daily effort to school his features into an expression that wasn’t complete disinterest or outright disdain (Blue’s words), everything else kind of fell into place, and Ronan realized with some surprise that he wasn’t half as bad at it as he thought he would be. It was a welcome distraction from his thoughts, the patrons seemed to genuinely like him for a reason Ronan still couldn’t fathom, and Ronan stopped feeling like he’d rather be anywhere else sometime between the first and fifth week.
Of course, there were days when it all went to shit—assholes having a bad day and taking it out on the baristas, difficult customers finding something wrong with their drink several times in a row, and the occasional self-entitled rants and threats to complain to the manager. Ronan didn’t care enough what other people thought to let any of it upset him, but to say that getting yelled at by strangers for not putting enough syrup in their coffee or taking too long to make their drink tried his notoriously thin patience would be an understatement. Still, Ronan prided himself on handling it better than anyone expected him to. If anything, it made for a good anger management therapy, which was something Ronan admittedly could do with. He’d only lost his temper once, and Gansey was quick to intervene and send Ronan to the back room before he ended up punching the guy in the mouth. Needless to say they never mentioned it to Calla and Maura. (Blue had agreed to keep it a secret on the condition that he do the dishes for a week and let her pick the music in his car. Ronan thought it was fair enough.)
Today, fortunately, was a pretty good day. It was Henry’s day off which meant he and Ronan weren’t getting into petty arguments every other hour, and Noah had just texted Ronan to inform him that their art teacher came down with a bad case of flu and so Ronan didn’t need to come up with an excuse to ask for an extension on his assignment. He felt slightly bad a few seconds after sharing his relief because Ms. Poldma was one of the few teachers Ronan actually liked, but Noah sent back two clapping hands and an inappropriate comment about it being karma for giving him an average grade on his midterm project. Ronan’s friends were awful.
Ronan sent an eye roll face behind the counter just as the bell chimed, signaling a new customer. Ronan looked up distractedly as he pocketed his phone and choked on thin air.
Adam Parrish, living work of art, blessing from the heavens, prince among men, was stepping into Cabeswater and casually strolling towards the counter where Ronan was currently having a stroke.
He wasn’t looking his way, so Ronan practically bolted to the back room where he knew Gansey was spending his break reading some obscure history book instead of going out to get lunch and nearly tripped over a pile of books in the doorway.
“What is he doing here?” Ronan hissed in Gansey’s ear.
Gansey blinked up, brows slightly furrowed, before sliding his gaze to the counter where Adam Parrish (Adam Parrish!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ronan’s brain supplied unhelpfully) was staring at his phone with a concentrated frown and a slight pout that made Ronan want to throw himself at his feet and beg him to walk all over him.
“How should I know? This is a free country, Ronan.”
“He’s never been here before!”
Gansey gave him a flat look that adequately conveyed how much he didn't care about Ronan’s sudden meltdown.
“Who’s never been here before?” Blue asked, suddenly appearing next to Gansey.
“Him!” Ronan almost shouted. It took everything in him not to point frantically at the counter.
Blue followed his gaze curiously, and then she and Gansey shared a Look. Ronan didn’t like that look. He felt his hackles rise at the knowing smirk on Blue’s face and turned pleading eyes back to Gansey.
“Help me.”
Blue’s voice was saccharine. “What? It’s just a customer. Go take his order, Ronan. Don’t make the customer wait.”
“Gansey,” Ronan gritted out, voice pitching up in panic.
Gansey, the bastard, shook his head. “Sorry, Lynch. It’s my break.”
“I fucking hate you both,” Ronan grunted half-heartedly, shoulders slumping in defeat.
He thought he heard Blue’s obnoxious laugh as he stomped out and resolutely ignored it in favor of taking his place behind the counter and finally facing a painfully gorgeous, heart-achingly beautiful, entirely unattainable Adam Parrish.
God, he didn't even look real.
“Hi,” Ronan croaked out.
“Hello,” Adam said. Adam Parrish was talking to him. He didn’t spare him more than a glance, which kind of stung, but was mostly a relief. Ronan thought he might spontaneously combust if he were to be the center of his attention.
Ronan waited in awkward silence while Adam scanned the menu and actively tried not to squirm. His beautiful hands rested on the counter, fingers drumming aimlessly on the surface, and Ronan couldn’t help staring at them and wondering what they would feel like in his mouth.
I’m so fucking gay, Ronan thought dazedly.
“I’ll have a large latte with an extra shot to go, please,” Adam eventually drawled in that low, mild voice Ronan had only heard a couple of times before, though never directed at him. He spoke with a slight accent Ronan couldn't quite place, but it was possibly one of the loveliest (and sexiest) things Ronan had ever heard in his life.
Adam was looking directly at him now, his big blue eyes boring holes into Ronan’s soul. Or most likely they weren’t and it was Ronan’s infatuated brain romanticizing the moment. Frankly, it didn’t matter either way. This moment was going down in history in Ronan’s mind anyway.
“Alright,” Ronan mumbled, barely audible.
He busied himself with making the drink and pointedly didn’t let himself look up. He made sure to get just the right amount of steamed milk and espresso, and contemplated drawing something but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t want Adam to think he was some kind of tryhard hipster.
Once it was ready, he coughed awkwardly and slid the cup across the counter because he didn’t trust himself to make contact.
“Thank you.”
“Uh-huh.”
Adam pulled a bill out of his pocket and Ronan gave him his change without a word. He should say something, do his damn job, but his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and all he could do was nod faintly and watch helplessly as Adam grabbed his drink and walked away.
The door had only just closed behind him when Ronan felt Blue’s strong arm wrap around his shoulders, her other hand coming up to pat his chest a touch harder than necessary. Ronan had no idea how she managed to do that considering he had at least twelve inches on her, but it was always strangely comforting, though Ronan would never admit it.
“You’re lucky Calla likes you, Ronan. That was terrible customer service.”
Ronan groaned loudly and shrugged her away. “Fuck off, maggot.”
☆☆☆
Cheng ☕ [20:03]
a lil birdie told me ur mysterious lover boy showed up at the shop today HO-HO-HO. on a scale from 1 to 10 how much of a fool did you make of yourself?? blue says it was a good 7
You [20:07]
I’m deleting both of you from my life.
☆☆☆
Noah 👻 [21:38]
SO adam parrish hmmmmMmmMMmMmmMMmmmmm
You [22:14]
Stop talking to my co-workers behind my back
☆☆☆
Ronan was most definitely not still thinking about his encounter with Adam Parrish three days later.
He wasn’t that desperate, okay? He had a busy life and he was definitely not still replaying the entire scene in his head like a movie scene stuck on repeat. He had other, more important things to think about like finishing at least half of his assignments on time, calling his mom before she started worrying and asked Declan to pay him a visit, finding a birthday gift for Matthew, and Adam Parrish looking at him through his long eyelashes and smiling ever so slightly when he thanked him and god his freckles looked like specks of gold scattered across his skin and Ronan swore their fingers brushed when he handed him his change—
Ahem. So, yeah, Ronan was certainly not obsessing over it or anything.
Right.
“You’re drooling,” Henry stated, snapping him out of his daze.
Ronan shot him a weak glare from where he was resting his chin on his hands with his elbows propped on the counter.
“Really. You’ve been staring at nothing with your mouth hanging open for the past half-hour.”
“Shut up,” Ronan said eloquently. They were about to clock out and everyone was huddled around the counter, except for Calla who had a mysterious errand to run an hour ago and was still gone. It had been a busy day and Ronan felt positively worn out and slightly on edge, but he knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, not with the way his insomnia had been acting up over the past few weeks. Ronan knew he shouldn’t keep it to himself, that he should tell his mom or Gansey or Blue, but everyone thought he was doing so well, and Ronan wasn’t about to disappoint them. Not again.
“Are you thinking about Adam Parrish?” Henry asked, because it was a well-known fact that the best way to get Henry Cheng to run his mouth was to ask him to shut it.
“Cheng,” Ronan said threateningly. Or, as threateningly as he could when he probably looked like some lovesick loser. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Just so you know, I’m still mad I wasn’t here to see your awkward attempt at flirting.”
“I didn’t flirt with him.”
“He can only flirt with people he doesn’t actually like,” Blue piped in unhelpfully from where she was putting cups away.
“That’s Ronan for you,” Henry agreed good-naturedly. “So much wasted potential.”
“I’m right here,” Ronan huffed indignantly, scowling at both of them. “And I’m perfectly capable of flirting with people I like, thank you very much.”
“If your definition of flirting is pining and staring from a distance, then yes, you’re a champ,” Henry cackled.
“Have you talked to him before?” Jimi asked curiously. Great. Now even Jimi was interested in Ronan's love life—or lack thereof.
“No,” Ronan admitted miserably, slumping back in his seat. “He’s fucking intimidating, okay? I can’t even hold his gaze for longer than two seconds.”
“You’ve got it bad, kid,” Maura said sympathetically. Well, she tried to make it sound sympathetic. It just sounded like she was finding all of this extremely amusing. Ronan couldn’t really blame her.
He wasn’t proud of himself either. Even Noah had interacted with Adam before—they shared a class and worked together on a group project in their first year, which had been the sole focus of Noah and Ronan’s conversations for the following three months. Ronan had learned that Adam Parrish was impossibly smart, could be peculiarly polite, and liked pepperoni and mushroom pizza, all of which had only served to reinforce Ronan’s already all-consuming crush on the guy. At that point, Noah could have told him that Adam poured the milk before the cereal and Ronan would have produced a PowerPoint presentation on why it wasn’t as stupid as people made it out to be, complete with detailed diagrams and comparison tables.
“You’re plenty intimidating yourself,” Blue pointed out.
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to fuck it up,” Ronan said sullenly. “And sometimes the only way not to fuck up is not to do anything at all.”
“If only you lived by that principle more often,” Gansey intoned wryly.
Henry snickered into a mug.
“Jackass,” Blue said with unbridled affection.
Ronan hated all of them.
☆☆☆
“Stop stalking the guy.”
Ronan startled. He looked up and glared at Noah, who slid into the seat across from him with an unrepentant grin and set down a textbook and a pink-purple sugary drink that looked like it was made of unicorn tears.
Ronan didn’t even pretend not to know who he was talking about. “I'm not stalking him.”
“You never come to the library on your own initiative.”
“I have studying to do,” Ronan said, holding up his own textbook as evidence. Okay, he might have been watching Adam Parrish all morning instead of getting anything done, but he actually came here to study for his upcoming test. It wasn’t Ronan's fault if Adam happened to be here when he walked in. It also wasn’t his fault if Ronan's favorite spot was directly across from the table Adam was occupying.
Not that Ronan had any objection whatsoever.
Noah hummed idly in response. They fell into companionable silence, Noah sipping his drink from hell and going over his notes while Ronan tried to wrap his head around lyrical abstraction and very pointedly avoided looking in Adam's direction.
He couldn’t help sneaking a glance when he caught movement in his peripheral vision, and absently chewed on his leather bands as Adam pushed back his chair and gathered up his stuff. How he managed to look like a cover model for one of those magazines Blue’s cousin collected with a dark hoodie and tattered jeans was a mystery to Ronan. Ronan would look like he was about to rob a bank in these clothes.
Ronan was starting to feel a bit like a creep, and he was ready to drop his gaze as soon as Adam made for the door and actually focus on the textbook in front of him. If he concentrated enough, he could get through at least one chapter before his shift, which would leave him with three more chapters to go over before tomorrow. He could pull an all-nighter and cram in as much material as he could. It wasn’t like he was getting any sleep anyway, he might as well put his time to good use. There were very few things Ronan hated as much as studying, but he hated disappointing his mother even more.
Except, Ronan realized belatedly, Adam wasn’t heading for the door. He paused briefly after zipping up his bag and looked around him, eyes flickering in their direction, and then he slung his backpack over his shoulder and promptly started towards them.
Choking back a curse, Ronan shot a panicked look at Noah, who was too engrossed in his notes to notice. Ronan kicked frantically at his shin. Noah eventually raised an eyebrow at him, but it was too late. Ronan had to bite back anything he was about to say because Adam was already within earshot.
Ronan scrambled for his (nonexistent) composure and tried not to think of all the ways this could go wrong.
“Noah,” Adam greeted when he reached their table. His voice sounded like honey, smooth velvet and world peace. “Hello.”
“Hey, Adam,” Noah smiled broadly, somehow sounding genuinely surprised to see him. Ronan always said Noah should have gone into acting. “What's up?”
He turned away from Ronan, which Ronan was vaguely grateful for because this was Noah giving him time to collect himself in the unlikely hope that he didn’t lose his shit. Ronan took a deep breath and plucked up what little courage he had.
He wasn’t a middle schooler with a crush, damn it. He was twenty one and he’d dated people before and he didn’t turn into a jittery mess around pretty faces anymore (well, at least not when the pretty face wasn’t Adam Parrish’s). Ronan could totally do this.
Inevitably, Adam turned to him, because he actually had manners unlike most people Ronan kept company with and wasn't just going to ignore the person sitting with Noah. There was a small, tentative smile on his lips, and Ronan's heart felt two beats away from leaping out of his throat.
Noah gestured towards him and said casually, “My friend, Ronan.”
“We've met,” Adam said. It didn't sound suggestive in the least, but it still sent a thrill down Ronan’s spine. It's the tattoos, he reasoned with himself. He remembers you because of your tattoos.
Ronan's heart was pounding so hard he almost didn't catch the end of Adam's sentence. “You work at the coffee shop a few streets over, if i'm correct.”
“Yes,” Ronan blurted out, almost sagging in relief when his voice sounded relatively even, if a bit high-pitched. “That’s me.”
Adam smiled amiably. Ronan wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about having a religious experience.
“Did you need anything?” Noah asked, a tad dismissive. Ronan almost reached out to elbow him in the face. Way to ruin the moment, asshole.
Adam didn't seem to notice, or perhaps he just didn't care. “Oh, I just saw you and thought I'd say hi. I haven’t seen you in class in a while.”
Noah shrugged dramatically. “I hate that class. No offense, but Whelk’s an asshole and the material is so boring. I don’t know why I ever thought minoring in psych was a good idea. Why would you do that to yourself?”
Ronan kicked him under the table. Hard.
Astonishingly, Adam just kept smiling, like the angel that he was. Ronan was instantly more infatuated. It took a lot for someone to be impervious to Noah's particular brand of obnoxious.
“To each his own, I guess. I have to admit Whelk isn't the easiest teacher to work with, but the course is really interesting once you get into it.”
Ronan coughed loudly to drown out Noah’s answer. Noah gave him a calculated look that set off red flags in Ronan’s mind before looking back up at Adam.
“You want to sit down for a bit?” he offered with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.
The logical side of Ronan knew he should be alarmed and run for the hills, but his heart swelled with pathetic hope at the prospect of spending time with Adam, and he was already rehearsing his call to Maura. Hell, Ronan would miss all his classes and let Noah talk his ear off all afternoon if it meant sitting next to Adam and possibly getting to exchange a few words with him.
His hopes were shattered when Adam said, sounding genuinely regretful, “Ah, I'm afraid I can't. I have to be somewhere in a few minutes. It was nice talking to you, though. And it was nice to meet you, Ronan.”
Fireworks went off in Ronan's head.
Abruptly, Ronan thought, this was it. This was his chance. He could leave a good impression, make up for the near disaster that was their first encounter. Ronan was good at making an impression (though most of the time it was the opposite kind of impression he wanted to make on Adam). He could totally pull this off. He just had to play it cool, look Adam in the eye, and say goodbye.
But because the universe and everything in it hated Ronan, what came out of his mouth instead was a garbled, “You're nice too. I mean meeting you. It was nice… to meet you.”
There was a tense pause. It was, perhaps, some of the longest seconds of Ronan's life.
Adam looked slightly taken aback, forehead creasing in confusion, but he nodded wordlessly after a few seconds. Idly, Ronan wondered if he ever looked anything other than utterly detached or vaguely intrigued. (He thought he would like to find out.)
Ronan stared at him numbly as he walked away, elegant fingers curled around the straps of his backpack, until his slim figure disappeared behind the library doors.
The silence stretched out and out until Noah ultimately broke it, sounding equal parts horrified and grudgingly impressed.
“Really, Ronan?”
Ronan was too mortified to revel in the fact that he'd successfully stunned Noah Czerny into silence.