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The thing about Tad Carruthers’ house parties was this: they were usually as awful as they were predictable.
What made tonight’s party neither of those things was this: Adam Parrish actually came to this one.
It wasn’t just a rare occurrence, but the first of its kind. Adam Parrish didn’t do parties. He was too studious, too responsible, and too uninterested to partake in such debauchery.
Or, at least, he was until he showed up tonight—by default making it the best damn party Ronan Lynch had ever attended. Not that he’d be caught dead saying it out loud. Hell, even thinking it felt dangerous. Especially when—
“Lynch! I need you to lower my inhibitions.”
—especially when Adam Parrish decided at that very moment to invade his personal space with the same stubborn determination that caused Ronan to catch pesky feelings for him in the first place.
“Excuse you?” Ronan asked, trying his best to both look and sound unaffected by the other boy.
They weren’t strangers. Not in the least. In fact, they were technically a part of the same friend group. But that didn’t mean they were close. They’d barely ever had a conversation alone before. Not that Ronan didn’t look for every opportunity to do so, but because every time he saw Adam, their other friends were almost always around. It was never just the two of them.
“I mean it. Look around. We’re at a house party , Ronan.”
Until now.
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” he said.
“Look at our friends. Look at Blue and Gansey. Look at Noah and Henry. Look at Matthew and Layla,” Adam said, grabbing Ronan’s head and forcing him to look at each couple as he listed them.
“I see them, thank you. They’re all exhibiting grotesque displays of public affection in the form of tonsil hockey. How utterly pedestrian,” Ronan said.
“Exactly! They’re all so normal and carefree. And do you know why? ‘Cause alcohol is lowering their inhibitions. They’re uninhibited. Me, on the other hand? I’m miserable and overthinking everything and no one is lining up to kiss me! Okay, technically I always have Tad ‘loves negging Adam’ Carruthers on the back-burner.”
If Ronan was taking a sip of something in that moment, he surely would have spit it back out.
“Loves whatting Adam?” he asked.
“Negging? You know, when you try to flirt with someone by insulting them,” Adam explained.
“Huh, never realized there was a word for that,” Ronan said, feeling mildly embarrassed for reasons he wasn’t prepared to identify.
“Regardless, I’ve been dodging Tad’s advances all night with mild success.”
“Wait, what do you mean ‘mild’?” Ronan asked.
Adam ignored him. “Look, I didn’t pull an all-nighter getting a jumpstart on this weekend’s homework to finally come to a party and not get to at least first base. I need to get on that level. Uninhibited-level.”
Dear god, Adam must have been trying to kill Ronan. It was the only logical explanation for the last five minutes of his life.
“What do you need me for? Booze is that way,” Ronan said, pointing vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.
“I don’t drink. I can’t just go in there blind and risk blacking out or vomiting on a potential make-out-ee. I need the help of an expert,” Adam said. He grabbed Ronan by the sleeve of his jacket and dragged him into the kitchen.
“An expert drinker? You realize you just called me an alcoholic, right?” Ronan asked.
“Will you stop thinking about yourself for five seconds and be a good friend to me?” Adam paused in front of the kitchen island filled with various bottles of alcohol.“Which of these is considered ‘top shelf’?”
“Umm,” Ronan mused, eyeing the different labels carefully, “I’m only seeing bottom shelf and maybe medium shelf if you’re feeling generous.”
Adam grabbed a bottle of Fireball Whisky. “What about this one? It looks like it could be expensive.”
Ronan suppressed a grin as he took in the sight of Adam Parrish holding every new drinker’s worst nightmare in his hand.
“Oh yeah, that’s the good stuff right there,” Ronan told him.
“See, was that so hard?” Adam asked. He unceremoniously uncapped the Fireball and took a huge swig.
Ronan watched carefully as Adam held the horrid cinnamon liquid in his mouth for a moment, before doing an outrageous spit-take into the kitchen sink. And then he burst out laughing at Adam’s expense.
“I hate you so much,” Adam half-growled over his shoulder, using the faucet water to rinse out his mouth.
“Just trying to be a good friend,” Ronan said. “Lest we forget, you asked for my help.”
“And how exactly was that supposed to help me?” Adam asked.
He turned around to face Ronan, frowning. But that frown quickly turned into a look of intrigue when Ronan pulled a silver flask out of his leather jacket’s inside pocket.
“Now that you know what the shit stuff tastes like, you’ll be able to appreciate the good stuff,” Ronan said.
“Top shelf?” Adam asked hopefully.
Ronan nodded before jerking his head in the other direction: “C’mon, it’s too noisy up here.”
Adam blindly followed Ronan down a staircase leading into a finished basement that somehow had not been discovered by the other party guests.
Ronan plopped down on the tweed couch and motioned for Adam to do the same.
“How’d you know to come down here?” Adam asked.
“This isn’t my first time here,” Ronan said, adding: “Tad always keeps the basement door locked for god knows what reason. So naturally picking said lock is always one of the first things I do.”
“So that’s where you disappeared to when we first arrived,” Adam said out loud, though mostly to himself.
Ronan half-wondered why Adam would have noticed his absence at all, before he shook the thought from his mind. He had a task to get back to.
He took a small sip from his flask before offering it to Adam, who was watching him thoughtfully, like he was forming a scientific hypothesis in his head.
Adam took the flask, eyeing it suspiciously.
“Promise it isn’t poison,” Ronan said. “Well, I guess all alcohol is, but it won’t kill you tonight.”
“Very reassuring,” Adam said. He took a cautious sip and winced as he swallowed.
“Smooth, right?”
“Not the first descriptor I’d choose, though it is decidedly smoother than that fireball crap,” Adam said. “Is it supposed to burn that much?”
Ronan shrugged. “You get used to it.”
“I don’t love the sound of that.”
“You’re the one who wants his inhibitions lowered. Unless you changed your…”
But clearly Adam’s mind remained unchanged, because the second Ronan mentioned his inhibitions, he quickly took another pull from the flask. Then another.
“Okay, easy, cowboy. This stuff is meant to be savored. If you’re interested in guzzling booze, I’m certain Tad’s got a tapped keg and plastic funnel upstairs with your name on it.”
“Oh god, don’t remind me,” Adam said, already raising the flask to his lips again—before Ronan intercepted his hand and swiped the flask back for his own consumption.
“Sharing is caring, Parrish.”
“This isn’t the type of saliva-swapping I was planning on doing tonight,” Adam said.
“Night’s still young, no need to lose hope already,” Ronan said.
“Never thought I’d be getting a pep-talk from you of all people. Doesn’t hook-up culture disgust you or whatever?”
“What gave you that idea?” Ronan asked, feigning ignorance.
“The fact that you don’t do it. And constantly make fun of people who do, including your friends, who happen to be my friends too. And a majority of the making fun that you do happens to be within ear-shot of me—”
“I don’t… yeah, I like to take the piss out of people. Our friends included. It’s not like I’m against kissing or whatever, I just don’t see the appeal in doing it just to do it. It has to have some kind of meaning or else…”
“Or else what?” Adam asked.
“It’s just empty,” Ronan told him as he passed the flask back.
“Huh, if I didn’t know better, I might think you were a closeted romantic, Lynch,” Adam said.
“Maybe I’m just a germaphobe,” Ronan said.
“We should probably stop sharing your flask then,” Adam told him, waving said flask in his face.
“Nah, you don’t count,” Ronan said, taking another pull from the flask to prove a point.
“Why not?” Adam asked, taking a pull himself. He’d stopped flinching at the taste by now, though he didn’t seem to notice. His freckled cheeks had also gone ruddy, something Ronan wished he could un-notice.
“‘Cause I said so.”
“You should really try out for the debate team, I think you’d be a real asset,” Adam told him. “Okay, so to recap: Ronan Lynch is not a germaphobe and he isn’t morally opposed to kissing, as long as it’s the right person. Or at the very least, not the wrong person. Is that accurate?”
“I guess. Sure,” Ronan finally said.
“Then why bother coming to these parties at all? No offense, but you seemed to spend most of the night sulking in the corner until I came to your rescue.”
“I don’t know, Parrish. Why does any man do what he does? Because he’s bored? Because he wants to be entertained? Because it’s where all his friends are, so why not? What’s your excuse?”
Adam stayed silent for a few moments, as if he was seriously mulling this over.
“I guess I always thought I was depriving myself of something by not coming to these parties. Like I was missing out on this quintessential high school activity. And maybe if I just said ‘fuck it’ and let myself have fun for once, I could finally figure out what it feels like to be a normal teenager,” Adam said. “But now look at me. I’m drinking alone in the basement with the biggest social reject I know.”
“Think of it this way: next to me, you’re practically prom king,” Ronan told him.
Adam huffed out a laugh at that. “Yay.”
Ronan watched as Adam leaned back against the couch, letting his head rest on the cushions as he closed his eyes.
“Huh, so this is what drinking feels like.”
“What do you think?” Ronan asked.
“I don’t hate it. Yet,” Adam said. “Actually feels kinda nice.”
“Imagine what would have happened if you stuck with the Fireball,” Ronan said.
“Oh, I’d definitely be mid-kegstand by now,” Adam said. He took a moment to stretch his arms over his head, causing this thin t-shirt to ride up and expose a sliver of tan skin.
Ronan took another sip of whiskey to stop himself from saying something he couldn’t take back.
“Hey, can I ask you something? Anything ever happen between you and Kavinsky?”
Ronan choked slightly as he swallowed. He coughed a few times to clear his throat.
“Sorry,” Adam continued, “It’s just. You used to hang out all the time and when he was around, you could pretty much cut the tension with a knife—”
“—No. God, no,” Ronan finally said. “I mean, he tried. A few times. But it wasn’t like that for me. It just…he was…”
“The wrong person?” Adam offered. He took the flask and had another sip.
“Definitely not the right one,” Ronan said.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”
“Nah, I barely think about him anymore. Waste of brain space,” Ronan said.
Adam snorted out a laugh at that. “Heh, brain space.”
“You’re completely hammered, aren’t you?” Ronan asked, grinning.
Adam returned his grin, though he tried to suppress it as he shook his head emphatically.
“Nope, just tipsy. Pretty sure. Look,” Adam said, sloppily touching his nose with alternating forefingers to prove his point.
“Oh yeah, you’re totally sober,” Ronan deadpanned.
“If I decide to do something really dumb tonight, do you promise you won’t judge me?” Adam asked.
“Depends on what it is,” Ronan said.
“Oh, come on. Just say you won’t.”
“You know I can’t lie,” Ronan said.
Adam threw an arm over his face dramatically, not saying anything for a few moments. Then, he dropped his arm.
“Screw it, I’m gonna go find Tad,” Adam announced.
“Wait, what? Why?” Ronan asked.
“Because he’s desperate to make out with me and I’m just tipsy enough to finally let him,” Adam said.
Ronan forced out a laugh, not believing what he’d just heard.
“No way. I’m not letting you degrade yourself like that,” he told Adam.
“Don’t think of it as degrading. Think of it as a well-needed ego boost,” Adam said.
“Jesus, if that’s all you need, I’ll make out with you.” The words were out of Ronan’s mouth before he could stop them.
“Oh, screw off Lynch. I don’t want your pity,” Adam said, moving to stand.
Ronan grabbed his arm, stopping him. “You’d rather Tad’s desperation than my pity?”
Adam considered this. “Honestly, yes.”
Ronan moved closer to Adam, not letting go of his arm. “What if I’m desperate too?”
“Huh?”
Ronan said it again, clearer this time. “What if I’m desperate too?”
Adam pulled a face, “You’re desperate to make out with someone too?”
“No, Parrish. I’m desperate to make out with you. Like, Tad-desperate. I just have more pride. Usually. Not now, ‘cause alcohol has raised the stakes and you’re acting a little insane. So...”
Adam stared into Ronan’s eyes. His gaze then dropped down to Ronan’s mouth, before moving back upward.
“Are you pulling my leg?”
“I’ll pull any limb you want if it means I can kiss you,” Ronan told him, secretly wishing a sink-hole would magically appear and swallow him whole.
Adam merely gaped, seemingly waiting patiently for the punchline that didn’t come.
“Jesus, Lynch. You’re serious?” he asked.
“I don’t…” Ronan began.
“...lie. Yeah, I...oh. Oh ...” Adam said, as if finally processing.
Ronan noticed two things in that moment. One, Adam had never looked more beautiful. Two, he no longer seemed interested in finding Tad.
“Yeah,” Ronan said. “So, can I? Can we? I mean, do I have your consent or whatever?”
Adam was looking at Ronan’s mouth again. Then he licked his lips.
“Yuh. I mean, yeah. That’d be...oomf—” Adam’s words were cut off as Ronan swooped in to kiss him.
It could have been a disaster, considering it was his first kiss. Even in his wildest dreams, Ronan imagined there’d most likely be some gentle teeth-banging upon impact. Maybe he’d miss Adam’s mouth entirely and kiss his chin or be overzealous with his tongue.
But this?
This was perfect.
But then the perfect moment was over before it really got started. The boys barely had time to pry their mouths apart before they heard someone come barrelling down the stairs.
“ Lynch ! How many times do I have to tell you, my parents’ basement is off—oh! Adam, I’ve been looking for you,” Tad Carruthers said. “What are you doing down here with him ?”
“Well...kissing, for starters,” Adam said honestly.
Both Ronan and Tad looked like they’d swallowed their respective tongues.
“Oh, well, that’s...disappointing to say the least. Didn’t realize you swung that way, Lynch,” Tad said, almost accusingly.
Ronan could practically hear the moment Adam realized he’d just outed Ronan to Tad.
“It’s the only way I swing, actually,” Ronan said, putting his hand on Adam’s thigh for good measure. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Well that’s just...great,” Tad bit out, staring at Ronan’s hand on Adam’s thigh like it personally offended him.
“Hey Tad, do you think we can have a little privacy? We were sort of in the middle of something…” Adam began.
“...before you so rudely interrupted,” Ronan finished.
A gobsmacked Tad just sort of stared at them for a few moments before he let out an exasperated sigh and stomped back upstairs.
Ronan huffed out a laugh, but Adam looked mortified as he turned to make eye contact with him. “I am so sorry, Ronan, I don’t know what I was thinking—”
But then Ronan was kissing him again. Except it wasn’t like the first kiss at all. It was deeper, hungrier. And after a brief moment of hesitation, Adam responded with the same vigor.
Adam moved to lay back on the couch, dragging Ronan down on top of him as he moved to kiss his way down Adam’s neck.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Adam panted, trying to catch his breath. “Tad’s the biggest blabber mouth and—”
Ronan lifted his head to look Adam in the eye. “I’m okay if you’re okay.”
“I’m very okay. I’m just, like...processing. Kinda thought you hated me,” Adam said, wrapping his legs around Ronan’s waist for good measure. “But I guess not.”
“Yeah, turns out I’m really bad at flirting,” Ronan said, before kissing him again.
“Me too. Thank god for whiskey,” Adam said against his lips.
Ronan’s body tensed slightly at these words. If it wasn’t for Adam’s body being fused against his, he may not have noticed, but he clearly did. He scooched back just enough to look into Ronan’s eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just that I can be kind of uptight and overthink stuff. And get in my own way a lot. I really like you. In case that wasn’t clear.”
Ronan relaxed, allowing his body to sink further against Adam’s.
“Cool,” Ronan said, cupping Adam’s cheek in his hand. “And same.”
“Cool,” Adam agreed, before pulling Ronan back down to kiss him.