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Ronan narrowed his eyes and glared into his cup. He shouldn’t have come.
All around him well-dressed tall people were laughing at each other – the Harvard laugh (Gansey had entreated to him to stop calling it the asshole-Harvard laugh) – and there was some weak dance music playing that didn’t build up properly or have any satisfactory drops. He sipped at his beer – asshole-Harvard beer, some sort of pretentious dark Boston ale that he only tolerated because it was better than not drinking – and went back to glaring at students.
Gansey had complained that he hadn’t seen Ronan in weeks. Come on Lynch it’s just a party, what harm could it do to tag along? I miss you! Ronan wasn’t sure what was worse, the underestimation of how much he loathed parties or the earnestness of Gansey’s plea.
He downed the rest of his beer in one for something to do then put his cup down and chewed at the leather bands around his wrist. Two women walked past, one of them mumbling with a grin, “Yeah Derek’s brought some thank god,” and he was about to follow them when a hand came down on his shoulder.
“Having fun yet?” asked Gansey, a small knowing smile playing on his lips.
“Oh yeah,” said Ronan. “This is my idea of a fun Saturday night.” Anyone else might have missed the subtle sarcasm in Ronan’s low voice, but not Gansey.
Gansey looked into the crowd, sipping his drink. “They’re not so bad. Granted they’re not all street racers and druggies....”
Ronan winced. “Druggies Gansey Jesus don’t let anyone hear you talk like that.”
Gansey grinned and put his drink on the table, leaning against the wall. “So what is your idea of a fun Saturday night? A red traffic light, 100 miles per hour, spending the night in prison?”
“Ha ha, you know I never get caught.”
“That’s a dangerous attitude,” Gansey mumbled, reaching for his drink again and pushing his glasses back up his nose as he gazed into it. “One day you might, and would it kill you to meet some different types of people for once?”
Ronan stared at him blankly. “Sure thing old man, would you like to go ahead and pick out some friends for me?”
Gansey grinned. “Ok,” and to Ronan’s surprise grabbed him and steered him towards the kitchen.
The kitchen was littered with half-empty bottles and cans, and was empty except for a guy leaning against the counter. He was staring into his drink, seemingly lost in thought, but looked up when they entered the room and smiled.
“Parrish,” Gansey said, “this is the old school friend I told you about, Ronan Lynch.” Gansey clapped Ronan on the back, pushing him forward into the room slightly. Ronan glowered at him and didn’t say anything to the guy.
Parrish cleared his throat. “Right, yeah. Hi. I’m Adam.”
Ronan looked at him then, and simply nodded back.
Gansey smiled as if the two had just made friends for life. A second later a crash came from the living room and someone yelled, “Oh shit Gansey??”
“Oh I better go, hold on,” Gansey said, and left the room abruptly.
Christ, thought Ronan as the two were left alone. He looked back at Adam who smiled at him, awkward. And tall, almost as tall as Ronan. He had light ash-coloured hair, unbrushed and messy on his pale freckled face. Ronan looked away, and made himself another drink.
“So,” Adam said. “You went to high school with Gansey?”
“Yep,” Ronan replied, glancing up at him before concentrating on mixing his drink.
“What do you do now?”
“I work on my dad’s farm,” Ronan replied, finding the whisky.
“Cool,” said Adam, and for a second Ronan wished he hadn’t come, knew these fucking college kids would think they were better than him, knew these kind of people, they were the reason he hadn’t gone to college in the first place. Adam spoke again, “Gotta say you don’t look like a farmer.” Ronan was about to rebuff that Adam didn’t look like an asshole, but when he looked up to glare at him he saw a smile hovering on Adam’s face. He was joking. Ronan looked down at himself, at his black vest top and leather jacket, faded black jeans with a rip in one knee.
“It’s laundry day,” Ronan replied, and Adam burst out laughing, his face crinkling. It was almost enough to make Ronan smile. Almost. He cleared his throat and pointed at his glass. “Do you want one?”
“What are you making?” Adam asked as he pushed off the counter.
“A Manhattan. Whisky and... shit.”
“Oh well if it’s whisky and shit,” Adam shrugged, smiling, “sure.”
Ronan found a second glass and poured some whisky into it. His mind worked furiously for small talk. “So, uh, Harvard huh.”
Adam nodded. “Yep. Don’t ask why, this weekend I honestly can’t remember.”
Ronan looked up at that, and handed Adam a glass. They knocked them together and took a sip each before Ronan said, “Ok.”
“Red wine stain,” Gansey announced, walking back in the room. “Adam, do you remember what we used to get red wine out of the carpet at Johnson’s party?”
“Salt and white wine,” Adam replied, “I’m on it.” They gathered the supplies and walked out of the room, Gansey sending an apologetic look at Ronan.
Ronan followed more slowly, walking through the house until he was in the garden, a porch with a fence that he could lean on and watch people smoking. His fingers itched for something to do, so he played with his leather bands, drinking his Manhattan faster than he’d intended.
A little while later Gansey found him again, sighing heavily. “Do I have to babysit you all night to make sure you socialise?” he asked, exasperated.
Ronan shrugged. “So how do you know Parrish?” he asked, too quick. He looked away from Gansey, sipping his drink and watching the smokers at the end of the garden, laughing and pushing at each other.
Gansey leaned against the fence. “He’s in my Latin class.”
“He’s a history major too?”
Gansey shook his head. “No, don’t think he’s decided on one yet. He seems to be taking a bit of everything. Wicked smart,” he added, having another drink.
Ronan contemplated his next words, but there was no dignity to be found in what he wanted to say. “Is he uh... does he have a uh...” He cleared his throat, aware of Gansey smiling at him in a way that made him want to punch him. “You know what never mind,” Ronan announced, straightening and knocking back his drink.
Gansey caught his sleeve before he could leave, smile gone but a knowing look in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said. “He’s never mentioned anything. I’ve known him 6 months and he’s never mentioned anyone so,” he shrugged. “Worth a shot?” he added, grinning.
Ronan left immediately, unable to bear the smugness any longer.
Right, he thought. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do. He made another drink in the kitchen and then walked slowly back through the house, looking out for ashen hair.
He found it leaning against a wall at the bottom of a staircase, talking to a girl. Ronan tried to turn back round before he was seen, but Adam’s eyes found his before he could. Adam smiled at him and Ronan moved forward slowly. “We were just talking about rowing,” Adam said, communicating something with a smile in his eyes, but Ronan wasn’t sure what it was. “Hazel, this is Ronan.” Ronan and the girl nodded to each other in acknowledgement, and then Hazel continued a stream of what Ronan caught on was crew talk that Adam could clearly not care less about. That made Ronan smirk at Adam over Hazel’s head as she gestured emphatically at the floor.
Eventually the girl left to top up her drink and Adam let out a heavy breath. “Rowers,” he muttered into his drink.
Ronan smirked. “Not a fan of boats?” he asked.
Adam looked at him. “The fact that you just called them boats means you’re the person I want to talk to the most right now,” he said, and something clenched inside Ronan.
A second beat past and neither of them spoke, so Ronan scrambled for conversation. “Gansey says you haven’t picked a major yet,” he said.
Adam shook his head. “Don’t know what I want to study. Don’t really know what I want to do yet.” He looked embarrassed and ran a hand through his hair. “Kind of pathetic I know.”
Ronan shrugged, “Better than being an arrogant douchebag asshole pretending like he does know.”
Adam’s eyes sparkled, amused. “Yeah,” he murmured, and the two leaned against the wall, watching as other party guests moved around them.
“What do you do on your dad’s farm?”
Ronan was surprised; he hadn’t expected Adam to ask him anything. “Well,” he started, “farm work.” And then realised how dumb that sounded. Maybe Adam had never been on a farm. “Uh, we’re a dairy farm so I look after the cows.” When Adam just looked at him, smiling, Ronan continued, “I check them and milk them, change their beds, let them out for a bit.” He shrugged.
“Well if you do all that what does your dad do?”
Ronan looked into his drink. “Nothing he’s gone,” he said flatly, taking another drink then staring at the wall.
Adam didn’t reply immediately. “Right,” he merely said, taking another drink himself.
And then Hazel returned and started talking about her rowing team’s schedule, moaning about long days and Ronan rolled his eyes and Adam pointed out that Ronan was a farmer and probably knew all about early starts, and then Hazel gave Ronan a fascinated expression as if he was a character from a storybook and quizzed him oh what’s it like I bet it’s brilliant fresh air and all that exercise must be really good for you with a glance at his upper arms and I bet it’s so different from all this all that time to yourself and a chance to think yeah and Ronan pushed off from the wall and walked away.
Ronan spent some time in the den watching college kids play poker badly from the view of a comfortable armchair, and was contemplating trying to find Derek and wherever the secret second party was probably happening when Gansey appeared. He sat in the chair next to Ronan and glanced over at the poker. He winced. “Ouch,” he remarked. “Do you think we should help?”
Ronan shook his head. “This is more fun,” he said as one of the guys grinned broadly at another player, all limbs slapping enthusiastically on the table. His friend at least had the decency to look embarrassed.
“Did you find Parrish?” Gansey asked.
Ronan looked at him, but didn’t answer.
“Well, did you talk to him?”
“I talked to him,” Ronan acknowledged.
“...And?”
Ronan looked away. “I don’t know,” he answered. “It’s not like I can just ask.”
“Well what did you talk about?”
“He asked about the farm, and then that girl came back and blathered on about rowing.”
“Wait, which girl?”
“Hazel?”
Gansey smirked. “Oh really? Yeah she’s had her eye on him for a while now,” he said, nodding. “She’s a bit obvious about it. He didn’t seem interested?”
Ronan shrugged, but then said, “No not really. At least, he wasn’t interested in rowing,” he added, eyeing Gansey, “so I guess we know you don’t have a chance.”
Gansey rolled his eyes. “Look I went along for a few weeks, I was trying to make friends, I didn’t know any better can we drop it.”
Ronan just smirked and let his attention wonder back to the poker players.
“Well, Hazel – I mean aside from her questionable taste in hobbies she’s very good looking.” Ronan raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t noticed. “So if Adam wasn’t interested... well you never know.”
“Either that or he has good taste in personality,” Ronan added drily.
“Oh damn you’re right, I guess that’s your brooding bad-boy anti-education no-social-skills cursing ass out then isn’t it,” Gansey said, wincing when Ronan punched him on the arm. Ronan stood up and left the room.
Goddamn it, he thought.
He didn’t know how to do this.
Ronan was 19 years old, and he’d never been in a relationship. Had met a couple of guys at school and in bars who made it clear they were interested in him, but he’d never cared enough to do anything about it.
He’d watched Gansey flirt with women in that odd way of his – dissecting and analysing feminism and colonialism, listening attentively when they moaned about men or white people, nodding furiously and agreeing wholeheartedly, and then filling up their next drink with a smile. Nerd. But it seemed to work.
Ronan almost bumped into Adam coming out of the bathroom. “Oh, uh, sorry man,” he said awkwardly.
Adam just smiled and moved aside. Ronan had no choice but to go into the bathroom, even though he didn’t really need to go.
A while later he found Adam perched outside, leaning against the same fence Ronan had, alone as Ronan had been. Ronan waited a second, wondering if Adam was going to think he was stalking him – but he could be coming outside for a cigarette. Ronan patted his pockets, but he was trying to quit and hadn’t brought them. He looked to the side to see the two girls from before with what he could only assume was Derek, so he got a cigarette off them, lit it, muttered thanks and then made his way over to Adam.
Adam turned his head slightly as Ronan leaned his arms on top of the fence, taking a drag and not looking at him.
“You smoke?”
Ronan turned to Adam, let the smoke out the side of his mouth and raised an eyebrow. “No?”
Adam chuckled and looked away.
Ronan thought again about Gansey’s flirting method, wondered if he could break it down in the seconds he had before Adam was sure to walk off. Adam shifted and Ronan blurted out, “What music do you like?” Another second passed and he considered killing himself. What music do you like? Seriously?
Adam settled back into the fence, staring down the garden. Ronan risked a glance at him. One of his lips was curved upwards. “Music,” he repeated, as if considering, but Ronan got the impression he was being mocked. “I dunno. I like a lot of music.” Ronan waited, not sure that was worth a response. Adam merely shrugged. “I listen to music when I’m driving, but that’s about it. Whatever’s on the radio.”
Ronan let out a deep groan and buried his head in his hands. Adam laughed quietly, “Why, what do you like?”
Ronan considered, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Yeah, same,” he said, “whatever’s on the radio,” and the look he gave Adam made the other boy laugh again. Ronan let out a shallow breath, watching the way Adam’s face moved when it was lit up.
“So,” said Adam, and Ronan took another drink. “You live with anyone else at the farm?”
Ronan thought it was a bit of an odd question, but then remembered the conversation about his dad. He shook his head. “My parents are both dead,” he said bluntly, the only way he knew how to say it at all, “but my brothers visit occasionally. Lazy fuckers,” he added, almost instinctively, “not that they lift a finger to help.”
“So it’s just you?”
Ronan shrugged, “I have help. A couple of guys that come in on days I’m not there.” Adam nodded. He contemplated his glass, and Ronan noticed he was still on the same Manhattan he’d made him at the start of the night. Ronan gestured towards it. “You don’t drink much, huh?”
Adam shook his head. “Only started drinking when I got to college,” he admitted, “and even then I don’t like it much. Gives you something to do at parties though doesn’t it.”
“Why don’t you like it?”
“My dad –” Adam started, and then stopped, as if catching himself. He put his glass down on the top of the fence and smiled at Ronan, but it was tight. “He has a drinking problem,” was all he said.
Ronan nodded. “Ok,” he said, and sipped slowly at his drink, wondering where he could get rid of it. He wondered whether this was going well. They were having a conversation, but it felt stilted, and he felt hot in his own skin, and everything he said felt stupid, and the wrong thing to say. But he liked the way Adam laughed, and the way he didn’t seem to mind silence, and every time he spoke his heart beat faster. He wanted to get him talking again.
“Why don’t you like Harvard so much right now?”
Adam quirked an eyebrow at him. Ronan panicked, it was too much, remembering what he’d said in the kitchen, but then Adam sighed and said, “It’s just a lot. I had to get up early for work today, and I have two papers due Monday. I shouldn’t really be here right now to be honest.” He straightened his frame, clenching his fingers on the fence.
Ronan straightened too. “Work?” he repeated.
“I work part-time at a garage,” Adam explained, “as a mechanic. It’s just a temporary thing,” he added quickly, probably taking Ronan’s silence as judgement, “I have a scholarship but it doesn’t cover it all, you know?” He ran a hand through his hair. “And it’s just until I can figure out... everything.”
Ronan cleared his throat, and managed, “You like cars?”
Adam looked at Ronan, frowning. “Sure, I guess,” he said, shrugging. “I like cars.”
Ronan looked away from Adam and finished the rest of his drink. “Oh look at that I’m empty, refill? Uh, water?” he added.
Adam smiled. “Sure,” he said again, and handed his mostly empty glass over to Ronan.
Ronan stormed back through the house, two glasses in his hand, and found Gansey in the front hallway, greeting a new guest at the door.
“Ronan!” It was Gansey’s annoyingly short girlfriend, Yellow or Blue or whatever.
Ronan ignored her. “Fuck,” he said to Gansey.
Gansey grinned at him. “What happened?”
“I’m fucked that’s what happened.”
Blue looked between them both. “What have I missed? Fill me in!”
“I introduced Ronan to Parrish. We’re trying to figure out if he’s –”
Ronan slapped him round the head. “Jesus Gansey say it a little louder why don’t you.”
Blue smirked. “Well? What’s wrong?”
Ronan ignored her, glaring at Gansey. “He likes cars,” he accused him. When Gansey didn’t reply Ronan threw his hands up, clutching the empty glasses in his hands. “He likes cars, Gansey, this is all your fault you inadequately prepared me, and you’re a fucking terrible wingman by the way you don’t even know if he’s into guys, and he doesn’t like alcohol by the way thanks for warning me, and he keeps laughing at me, and I’m absolutely fucked –”
“Okay,” Blue said slowly, holding out her hand to steady Ronan’s, righting the glass of Adam’s that still had a little drink left in it. “Where is he now?”
“Outside,” Ronan said, taking a deep breath. “I’m supposed to be getting him a drink. I don’t know what to fucking say. I don’t think he’s – he doesn’t seem to be – how are you supposed to tell?” he demanded. He contemplated the centimetre of drink in Adam’s glass and downed it.
“What have you talked about so far?” asked Gansey.
Ronan considered. “I asked what music he liked.”
Blue looked amused. “Is that your best line?”
Ronan scowled at her. “As opposed to who’s your favourite feminist?”
Gansey frowned. “Hey that’s my line, not hers.”
“That was a line are you kidding me –”
Ronan started walking off before he had to listen to any more, but Gansey grabbed his arm. “Look, just talk to him like he’s a person. If he’s sticking around he probably doesn’t hate talking to you either.” Gansey grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “And if that doesn’t work you can probably just ask him what his favourite car is.” Ronan swept away as Blue started laying into him.
He stopped by the kitchen, filling both glasses with water, and hurried outside, surprised to see Adam was still there. He took in a deep breath. Talk to him like a normal person. Right.
He handed Adam a glass, and Adam smiled back at him, raising an eyebrow at Ronan’s water. Ronan shrugged. “Hydration’s important,” he said, taking a sip, and Adam chuckled. Ronan felt a smile tug at his lips, and he let it.
They did talk about cars, but only briefly.
Ronan asked why Adam worked as a mechanic.
“My dad taught me a little when I was younger, it was the only time I trusted being with him. He didn’t let me do a lot, but I watched him work on our shitty car, and when I was old enough our town’s garage was the first place that would hire me.” He shrugged. “I needed money for school.”
Ronan pressed, “So why still?”
“I like the quiet,” Adam said, staring at his glass, contemplative. “There’s a quiet logic to it, when it’s just you and the car. And I’m good at it, I like doing something I’m good at when there’s no one to tell me I’m messing up.” He was frowning, but then his face straightened out and his lip curled. “It feels like power, you know?” Ronan nodded, mind miles away.
Adam asked how far away Ronan’s farm was, and whether he ever found it lonely.
“No,” Ronan said, but then considered. “I don’t think so. I don’t really think like that. It doesn’t feel like being alone, not surrounded by my family’s things, our land, that home.” He thought that sounded dumb, so he added quickly, “And I have Chainsaw.”
After a second Adam said, “Uh, do I want to know what that is?”
“My pet raven.”
After insisting he wasn’t joking Gansey and her get along great and explaining through Adam’s laughter that he’d left Chainsaw plenty of food, Adam tried to hide a small smile as he looked away from Ronan.
Adam explained that his dad was abusive, and how he stopped speaking to his parents when it finally landed him in hospital and with a deaf ear.
“Which ear?” Ronan asked. Adam tapped his right earlobe, the one closest to Ronan, so he pulled back from the fence, stepped around Adam and leaned against the railing at his other side, looking directly at him while drinking, a challenge in his eye. When Adam looked away, shoulders relaxing, Ronan asked, “Do you still feel angry about it?”
Adam tapped his fingers against his glass. “Anger isn’t quite right,” he said, quietly. “I don’t let myself get angry, or… that’s letting him win. It happened, and I just try to accept it.” He shrugged. “It’s amazing the things you get used to.”
“So you don’t want to break his face?”
Adam almost grinned, a pained expression on his face, at the brazenness of Ronan’s remark, and replied, “Sure, on bad days. But what would that solve?”
“It would solve his face being ok,” Ronan explained, as if to a child. “I’ll do it if you want.”
Adam shook his head. “What would that solve,” he muttered, and Ronan took the hint.
Ronan talked about finding his dad dead in front of the house, the result of a bad deal in a shady line of work, how the cops had never found the guys who did it. Adam winced, but said nothing, when Ronan answered that he was 14 at the time. He talked about how his mom got cancer not long after. How long it had taken to repair his relationship with his oldest brother.
“What’s it like having brothers?”
“Declan thinks he has to be dad,” Ronan said bitterly. “We get on better when he doesn’t try so hard. Matthew’s ok,” he added, not sure what to say. “It is what it is, we make it work.”
“I can’t imagine what it’s like to have siblings,” Adam said quietly, and it felt like he meant to say family, and something painful stirred inside Ronan.
It was getting cold, and Ronan was ok in his leather jacket, but Adam was only in a t-shirt, and he was rapidly aware of time running out. This was... Adam was... Ronan’s heart was beating fast in his chest and his water had long gone so he didn’t have anything to do with his hands, and he wanted to ask but he didn’t know how to, and fuck why was this so hard?
Eventually Adam straightened and stretched, his t-shirt lifting to reveal a line of skin above his jeans, and Ronan looked away. “Sorry, but I should probably go,” Adam said. “I’ve got another shift tomorrow and, those papers you know.”
Heat rushed to Ronan’s face. “Oh, sure man, I didn’t mean to keep you –” Adam waved that aside. “But uh, thanks for talking to me. I don’t really do... parties,” he finished, feeling like an idiot.
“That’s ok,” Adam said with a smile, “me neither to be honest.” There was a moment’s pause, and possibilities flitted through Ronan’s brain, nothing good enough, nothing subtle enough, nothing obvious enough, and Adam looked at him, hesitating, but then lifted a hand in a wave and said, “Well, see you,” and walked off.
Ronan opened his mouth, shut it, and blinked at the empty space. After a few seconds he sighed, and went to the kitchen to look for more alcohol.
- - -
A few weeks later Ronan’s phone rang. He glanced at it to see Gansey’s name on the screen. He didn’t like to encourage his friends calling so used his phone as little as it seemed he’d get away with, but he didn’t think he’d answered Gansey’s last few calls. “What?”
“Lynch!” exclaimed Gansey. “Finished your brooding for the day? Uh, I mean, chores?”
Ronan rolled his eyes into the phone. “What do you want?”
“We’ve been invited to another party!”
“Jesus I’m not driving all the way up to Boston for another fucking party, no offence Gansey but Harvard parties are not as hot as you think they are.” Ronan paused. “Wait, what do you mean we?”
He could practically hear the smugness in Gansey’s tone. “Adam invited us. You and me. He said to pass it on.”
Ronan paused. He looked at his watch. It was 4pm and he’d just finished his chores. If he left now he’d be there by 7. “I dunno Dick I was gonna wash my hair.”
Gansey chuckled. “Sure. I’ll see you at mine in a few hours.” He hung up on him. Ronan sighed. He hated when other people hung up before he got a chance to. That was his thing.
Three hours and fifteen minutes later Ronan and Gansey were knocking on the door of Adam’s suite. Unlike Gansey’s ridiculously sized house which was on the outskirts of Boston, Adam lived in a dorm on campus with a couple of other guys. The door opened and Gansey smiled, introducing Ronan to Charlie, one of Adam’s roommates.
“Uh huh,” Ronan said, looking past Charlie and into the crowded living area. There were only about twenty people there, but for a dorm with one living area and three single bedrooms it was already quite crowded. He spotted Adam by a window and he and Gansey headed over.
Under his breath Gansey said, “Maybe this time ask him if he likes piña coladas –” Ronan elbowed him in the ribs as Adam looked up from his conversation and smiled at them.
He shook Gansey’s hand in a way Ronan wasn’t familiar with – probably some asshole-Harvard handshake – and then turned to Ronan. “Drink?” he asked, and Ronan nodded, not trusting himself to speak, following Adam to the kitchenette that clung to one side of the living room. Gansey stayed behind, chatting with Adam’s friends.
Adam lifted the whisky in a question, and Ronan gulped, nodding. As Adam started making two Manhattans, Ronan asked, “So what’s the occasion? Gansey didn’t say.”
Adam shrugged. “Do we need an occasion?” But then he smiled. “It’s Charlie’s birthday.”
“Ah,” said Ronan.
He didn’t want to waste any words this time, didn’t want to fuck it up, didn’t want to wreck having a second chance, but before he could say anything Adam asked, “You never told me what music you liked?” a small smile playing on his lips.
Ronan’s heart crashed into his stomach. “Electronic stuff,” he answered lamely, “anything that makes the old man bleed out of his ears.”
Adam looked confused at old man but then saw Ronan’s eyes flick over at Gansey and nodded. “Right,” he said. “So noise basically.”
Ronan faked hurt on his face. “Only the best noise though, man,” he insisted. Adam smirked. “Anything that makes you feel the same way as a fast car, or an empty road during summer, or –” he stopped, feeling embarrassed suddenly. He cleared his throat. “I listen to a lot of dubstep,” he finished, quietly.
Adam nodded, handing Ronan a drink and taking a sip of his own. “You’ll have to show me some time,” he said, holding Ronan’s gaze and then looking away and over the party. Ronan blinked and took a large gulp of his drink.
“Sure,” he said flatly. “Uh, bathroom?” he asked. Adam pointed down the short hallway and Ronan left, taking his drink with him. Inside he looked at his drink, balanced it on the sink, and took a deep breath.
Contrary to what he wanted to do Ronan spent the rest of the party avoiding Adam, which was hard, considering it was kind of a small crowd. He clung by Gansey’s side when he could, letting Gansey introduce him as his old school friend, or this is Ronan he’s a farmer, answering in monosyllables wherever he could get away with, rolling his eyes as hard as he possibly could when one of Gansey’s friends said she didn’t know farmers could look so badass, trying not to notice Adam grinning across the room when Ronan retorted, “I didn’t know Harvard students could look so constipated, must be the ale,” letting Gansey wheel him away quickly after.
“She thought she was being nice,” came Adam’s voice from behind him as he argued with Gansey in the kitchenette. Someone was fussy about being a good guest and he invited us and why come all this way if you’re just going to.
Ronan looked round, and didn’t notice Gansey grabbing a beer and moving away. “What?”
“Lindsay,” Adam said. “She was flirting with you. She thinks she was complimenting you.” He reached past Ronan for a glass, brushing past his arm, and then moved away to fill it at the sink.
“That was flirting?” Ronan demanded, horrified. “Jesus.”
Adam smirked. “I feel sorry for her, we can’t all be naturally talented at it.”
Ronan hesitated. “I guess,” he said carefully, any glib response leaving him in that minute as he tried to work out what Adam was saying.
Adam’s expression was amused. “Want to show me some of that music you like?” he asked. “I have speakers in my bedroom.”
Ronan lifted his eyebrows, and Adam ran a hand through his hair, blushing slightly. “Yeah,” Ronan said, putting his drink down. “Ok.”
Adam lead the way, and Ronan mentally added Gansey to his Kill List as he saw his friend give him the thumbs up as they walked past. In Adam’s bedroom Ronan thumbed through his phone until he found something relatively mainstream, that eased in slightly, that had a bit of a tune to it – at least in part – and then handed it over to Adam to plug into his speakers. Adam half-sat, resting against the bedpost and Ronan leant back against the closed door, fidgeting at his oversized navy jumper before stuffing his hands in his pockets.
It was relatively easy-going for the first minute or so. After the first drop had kicked in Adam breathed out. “Jesus.”
Ronan grinned. “Isn’t it great?”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “I can’t tell,” he said, and Ronan laughed, which seemed to make Adam smile. He gestured at Adam energetically. “It’s all context, man,” he said, “this is the wrong place to be hearing it. Imagine it’s dark, and there’s no one else here.” He closed his eyes, letting the sound burst through him so he was overflowing with it, and he could see an empty stretch of road in front of him, could hear his car switching gears, felt a grin on his face. He loved it, and he knew it was hard. Perhaps loved it because it was hard. Felt the beat pound through his skin and twitched his fingers against his thigh. When it finished and the next track started he opened his eyes to see Adam gazing intently at him.
Ronan cleared his throat. “I mean, whatever, Gansey hates it so, it’s not exactly fucking Ariana Grande,” he finished.
“I have no idea who that is,” Adam said lightly, and Ronan’s heart almost melted, “but actually I kind of liked it. I could imagine you driving to it.” Adam pushed away from the bedpost and moved slowly over to Ronan. “I bet you run that BMW into the ground.”
He remembered what car Ronan owned. “Until it’s screaming for its mother,” Ronan said quietly, not breaking eye contact with Adam.
Adam groaned, looking away before grinning back at him. His face was inches away now and Ronan was having difficulty remembering how to breathe. “Just what every mechanic wants to hear,” he said, and then leaned forward, closed his eyes, and kissed him.
Ronan tensed, with Adam’s lips on his, his hot breath on his skin, one hand on his cheek, and Adam pulled away. “Oh shit,” Adam breathed.
“No,” Ronan started.
“No, I’m sorry,” said Adam, eyes avoiding Ronan's as he stepped away.
“No, don’t, it’s not –”
“I – man that’s embarrassing, listen, no worries,” Adam’s face turned away as he started to blush, so Ronan grabbed his stupid faded t-shirt and dragged him forward, catching his bottom lip between his.
That time Ronan didn’t tense, didn’t freak out, didn’t overthink, but kissed Adam gently, let Adam kiss him back, ran a hand through Adam’s hair, felt Adam’s fingers press unsure through his buzzcut. The pounding beat of the music did nothing to still his heartbeat as he let Adam explore his mouth, one hand on his side, playing at the end of his jumper, stroking above his hip.
Ronan pulled away, breathless, put his forehead against Adam’s, didn’t open his eyes. “Shit,” he said, and felt Adam smile. “I uh – fuck,” he said, and moved to brush his lips against Adam’s. He’d been thinking about this for weeks, but now that they were kissing it felt like he’d been starved of Adam for centuries, finally taking in whole lungfuls of air. Adam squeezed Ronan’s hip and Ronan ran a hand down Adam’s back, feeling muscle beneath his fingers. He wanted more – felt like he lived a life of always wanting more – but he forced his hand still, felt Adam’s lips still on his own, wondered if he felt the same. Ronan drew his head back and opened his eyes, and Adam was smiling at him.
Ronan gulped. “I wasn’t sure,” he started.
“Yeah well me neither,” Adam said, fingers interlacing in Ronan’s dark jumper. “It’s not like you can just ask, hey Gansey is your badass farmer friend into me?” Ronan grinned, and Adam laughed, and Ronan leaned forward again, meeting Adam in the middle, and Adam said, “By the way you suck at flirting,” and Ronan said, “Shut up,” and Adam said, “What music do you like I mean Jesus,” and Ronan said, “I think I might be straight after all,” and Adam chuckled into his mouth and kissed him again, and again, and again, and again.