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Ronan wasn’t the kind of person to be found in a bookstore.
He was, however, the kind of person to be found following his best friend to the end of the world. And his best friend just happened to be Gansey, someone who would commonly be found in a bookstore.
Ronan always refused to go whenever Gansey offered, but each time the Pig-Gansey’s Camaro-broke down on the way there (which happened a lot), he found himself driving down there in his BMW and spending the rest of his afternoon flipping through books while Gansey went around obsessing over every history book he found.
The bookstore was this small, cramped and cozy place with wooden floors and shelves lining the walls. There was a desk for the cashier by the door with a bell that made a small ding every time it swung open. The space between each shelf was tiny; it could barely fit two people standing next to each other at once.
This place wasn’t a place for the likes of Ronan and the few people there could tell. But it wasn’t their job to judge and no one bothered him.
Until today.
“Can I help you?”
--
Adam worked many jobs to pay for his college expenses. He had a full scholarship but he still needed to pay for some of his food and few supplies. One of those jobs was his job at the small bookstore. It was an easy job; he had space to do his homework and didn’t need to do much except for answer the few questions people would sometimes have and check out the books they wanted to buy.
Today, he had to get up and put four books back on their shelves. A mother and her son had came up to his desk to pay for five books but in the end, they didn’t have enough money to pay for all of them. They walked away with only one textbook. Adam knew that feeling all too well.
All of the books the boy wanted to buy were textbooks and one classic book (Don Quixote). But when Adam approached the shelf of classical literature, there already stood a man blocking his way. He wore black, ripped jeans and a dark leather jacket, his back facing Adam and his face towards the bookshelf where Adam needed to place Don Quixote down.
He cleared his throat. The man didn’t seem to have heard him. “Can I help you?” Adam asked dryly.
The stranger-he seemed to be around Adam’s age, so it felt strange to be referring to him as a man-turned around and glared down at Adam. That was very unfair in Adam’s opinion, for he was only a bit taller than Adam.
“No,” he said rather simply, in the way one would say leave me alone or fuck off for the less polite. Adam assumed he was the latter.
“Then can you move?” Adam asked, gesturing to the shelf with the book in hand.
The stranger stared at Adam, his gaze unmoving. He grunted a yes or something obscene or both as he finally moved away.
Adam shoved Don Quixote between the other copies of the book the store had. While his back was turned to the stranger, Adam couldn’t help but feel stared at. Presumably the stranger was just waiting for him to leave.
Adam stepped back to look at the stranger and say sarcastically, “They’re all yours.”
--
The next day, a figure threateningly slapped a book down on the cashier’s desk, a millimeter away from where Adam’s calculus homework laid. Adam tried to cover up his flinch when he realized that it was the same stranger standing in front of him. Adam glanced down at the book in front of him-a high school math textbook-and then at his homework. He sighed and dropped his pencil, moving the sheet away from him as he looked up at the stranger.
“Now can I help you?” he asked, exasperated.
“I’m returning this.”
The textbook was very old. The cover was smeared with ink and the corners resembled something more like stubs than points. The spine was in horrible condition. Adam could only imagine what the pages inside looked like.
“This isn’t a library,” Adam replied, “And we have a no refund policy so even if this book was from this store, you still can’t return it.”
The stranger walked away and returned shortly with another book in hand. It was the Constitution.
“Then I’d like to buy this book,” he said, slapping the book down lighter than he did with the first book, almost as though he was gently placing it down.
“Do you have a membership card?”
The stranger fished a card attached to a keychain out from his pocket and Adam scanned both the book and the card.
“Your name’s Richard Gansey?” Adam asked, looking up at the stranger with something that could only be described as shock with a tint of judgement. Richard Gansey wasn’t the sort of name a hooligan would bear.
“No,” was once again, his short answer. He didn’t elaborate.
Adam mumered an “Alright,” and handed the two items back to Not-Richard Gansey.
--
The next day, Not-Richard Gansey came back to buy a pencil. A singular, mechanical pencil. Again, he used Richard Gansey’s card.
The day after that, he tried to return the Constitution, describing it as “boring as fuck, you guys should have an exception in your policy.”
He then bought an eraser to “match with his pencil.”
He appeared again, this time buying Pride and Prejudice. Adam had told him, “Maybe you should make all your purchases in one trip.”
The stranger gave Adam the parting gift of the middle finger.
The next day, Adam didn’t have a shift at the bookstore so he didn’t know if the stranger came back and did something stupid or not.
He did feel bad for the short girl that had a shift when he normally did, however, if Not-Richard Gansey decided to come.
--
Gansey came to the bookstore to buy a book containing Welsh legends he had been eyeing for a while. He had asked Ronan to come, somewhat worried about all the mysterious disappearances that had been happening in the past five days. He gave Gansey a look like he already knew the answer to that question, which he did. So Gansey went alone this time.
He handed the cashier his membership card when checking out. The cashier had strangely froze for a split second when he looked at the computer screen but just as soon as the moment came, it flitted away.
--
For the rest of the week, Not-Richard Gansey and Maybe-Richard Gansey didn’t show up. Finally, on Wednesday, Maybe-Richard Gansey came and browsed around. He didn’t buy anything this time, however.
On Thursday, when he didn’t have a shift and instead the majority of his afternoon free, he went to the bookstore. The short girl with spiky hair who replaced him on Thursdays immediately recognized him.
“You don’t have a shift today,” she said, looking at him, her head tilted slightly.
“Yeah, I know. I figured I’d just come by to do my homework here.”
“Ever heard of things called coffee shops?”
“You really want me out, don’t you?” Adam asked.
The girl nodded with an unsettling glare that Not-Richard Gansey would be proud of. That was a strange thought, Adam realized right after he let it process in his head.
He sighed and proceeded to walk towards the door, but as an afterthought, turned around, held his hand out, and said, “Adam Parrish.”
The girl said, “Blue Sargent,” and shook his hand.
“Like the color?” Adam couldn’t help asking.
“Like the Bible story guy?” she asked in response.
Adam gave a small grin at the comeback and walked out.
--
Adam sat himself down in a coffee shop at one of the large tables. He plopped his large bag in the empty seat next to him. He got himself a small iced coffee with milk, the cheapest option on the menu. After around half an hour there, someone proceeded to put their stuff down by the seat across from him. The black iced coffee that was placed down would’ve splashed onto the table and maybe his science worksheet if there hadn’t been lid.
“What are you doing here?” the voice asked rudely.
Adam looked up at Not-Richard Gansey, who was still standing up, wearing a muscle tank, hand gripping the back of his seat.
“Studying,” he answered, ignoring the thoughts in his head that kept on chanting, what a small world it is, Adam. How coincidental is it that you went to the bookstore to find him but instead you find him where you got pushed out to?
Not-Richard Gansey seemed to accept that as an answer, and that was just as well because it was a very reasonable and self explanatory answer, for he sat down and pulled out Pride and Prejudice from his pocket.
“Why are there two people using Richard Gansey’s card?” Adam finally asked, putting his pencil down.
Not-Richard Gansey, who hadn’t made much progress in his book, looked up. “Why the fuck would I get my own card?”
“Because,” Adam pointed out, “You came to the store four times in a row to buy things.”
“Are you just trying to promote your business?” he asked rather concisely.
“You think I care?”
“Then why would you care whether or not I get a fucking card or not?”
“Maybe I’d like to refer to you as something other than Not-Richard Gansey.”
The stranger-the stranger seemed to be a weird way to refer to him-smiled. It was a dangerous, sharp thing. Like the smile of jackal, sharpened points for teeth and a sly grin.
“Do I get a refund on this piece of shit?” he asked, waving Pride and Prejudice.
Adam’s shoulders slumped as he gave Not-Richard Gansey a point blank look.
He chewed on one of his leather bands that circled his wrist. He dropped his wrist after a moment of pondering and said, “Your bookstore’s a scam.”
Not-Richard Gansey got up to leave and Adam didn’t stop him.
--
The day after that, Not-Richard Gansey didn’t come back. For some reason, Adam felt deflated.
But he came on Saturday, halfway through Adam’s shift.
“I’m signing up,” he said.
Adam walked him through all the steps of the form. The first step was for him to enter his name, and Adam saw the words “Ronan Lynch.”
Ronan Lynch.
That seemed to be a fitting name for him. Sharp, different, interesting-dammit Adam, get it together.
One he was supposedly done, Ronan turned the computer screen towards Adam so he could check over the form. As he scanned the screen, Adam frowned.
“You didn’t enter in your phone number. We need it so we can make the card valid.”
Ronan scowled. “I don’t use my phone.”
“So?”
“Fuck this,” he said, forcing the computer screen back towards him as he deleted everything. “I’ll just use Gansey’s card. What’s yours?”
The question caught Adam off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean? What’s mine?” What is mine?”
“I gave you my name. Yours. Your name.”
“Adam Parrish,” he said. He didn’t offer a hand, though. He figured that this really wasn’t an introduction that required hand shakes. All in all, he didn’t even think this was an introduction. “And your friend’s Richard Gansey?”
“Gansey,” Ronan corrected, and then, “He’s a nerd like you.”
“Good to know,” Adam said bitingly.
And at that, Ronan left.
--
The next couple of days were uneventful. Adam found it both normal and unusual for Ronan not to show up. Eventually, Gansey came. He didn’t buy anything again but as he proceeded to leave, Adam spoke up and said, “I met your friend Ronan a couple days ago.”
Gansey processed this for a moment. Finally, he said, “Ronan came here a few days ago?”
“Yeah, he also came a lot around two weeks ago,” Adam said, unsure of why he was even speaking.
Gansey raised his eyebrows in a pleasant way. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” he said, powerfully polite as he approached the desk. “I’m Gansey, but you probably know that already spoke to Ronan.”
“Adam Parrish,” Adam said, debating whether or not this was a situation where he should shake the other boy’s hand.
“Are you a college student?” Gansey asked, looking at the homework littered all over the desk.
“Yeah. Harvard.”
Gansey made a small hum of approval as he said, “M.I.T. for me.” He then checked his expensive watch and waved goodbye to Adam.
--
Ronan was dragged over by Gansey to the bookstore the next day.
“You didn’t tell me you visited the bookstore on your own,” he had said, excited. “All this time I was worried you were off doing something illegal but no, you were reading books and making friends!”
“Gansey,” Ronan said, “Stop being such a mom.”
But that didn’t stop Gansey from forcing Ronan into his Camaro and driving to the bookstore where Adam sat at the desk as always.
“Adam, hey!” Gansey greeted, Ronan trailing behind him.
Adam first took in Gansey but when his gaze moved to Ronan, his eyes widened only slightly.
“Hey,” he said to them.
--
“Why the fuck did you tell Gansey that I came here, Parrish?” Ronan hissed into Adam’s left ear when Gansey was somewhere else in the store.
Adam turned his face slightly so he was facing Ronan. “Huh?”
“You-” he said, pointing at Adam, “-told Gansey that I was coming here.”
“And why’s that bad?” Adam asked tauntingly.
Ronan grunted and mumbled something as he stalked away to find a book or Gansey.
--
For the next few weeks, Gansey and Ronan came after school (or for Ronan, the afternoon since he didn’t have school) to the bookstore to converse with Adam. Gansey sometimes helped him with his homework and Ronan always disrupted Adam when he was trying to study. Strangely enough, Adam enjoyed the company. He liked talking with Gansey about history, specifically Welsh history. Despite trying to maintain this “coolness”, Adam would sometimes find Ronan reading difficult Latin texts and his only explanation for why he could read them was, “I’m not dumb, Parrish.”
Which wasn’t much of an explanation, but Adam took it.
At one point, Ronan even brought in a raven to the store.
“Why? Why did you bring it into the store? Why do you even have a bird?”
“She’s a raven, and her name is Chainsaw,” Ronan bit back, holding the arm that the bird-Chainsaw-perched on away from Adam.
“There’s a not pet policy here,” Adam said.
“First a no refund or return whatever policy and now a fucking no pet policy? This place is a shithole,” Ronan said, stomping out.
Adam ended up bending the rules just a little bit, allowing Ronan to bring Chainsaw into the store. Gansey was horrified, however, for he believed that Chainsaw should stay outside. Blue was also upset when she found a small bit of bird poop that Chainsaw left behind. Ronan, who had already met her on the day that Adam didn’t have a shift, told her that it was organic material and “geezes Sargent, I thought you loved this shit.”
Blue proceeded to call Adam biased when he wouldn’t do anything about it since he clearly had a liking to Chainsaw (it was true, Chainsaw would often fly over to his arm and Adam would welcome it wholeheartedly).
Ronan had argued that maybe Chainsaw would like Blue back if she allowed Chainsaw to be in the store, like Adam. Blue had glared at Ronan and he glared back and Adam had to take a sip of water for he was laughing too hard. Gansey just looked back and forth between the two.
--
On a day Adam wasn’t expecting Gansey or Ronan to come over, Ronan stormed in. He threw Pride and Prejudice in front of Adam.
“I know there’s a no refund policy, but what if I traded this book for another one?”
“This is not a library,” Adam repeated.
“But what I if I want to be cultured. Read poetry,” Ronan walked away and into the maze of shelves and came back with another book. “See?”
“Seriously?” Adam asked, picking up the book. The book had been flipped to A Dream Within a Dream. “Edgar Allen Poe? Really? Did you even finish Pride and Prejudice.”
“Yes, actually,” Ronan said, “I could even tell you the moral of the story.”
Adam’s gaze said, “Go ahead.”
“It’s about how even if you were at first a dick, you can still get the lady. Because prejudice.”
“That made absolutely no sense. That’s not what the book is about.”
“I think it does make sense. And it is what the book is about,” then, Ronan hesitated but continued, “It’s like us.”
“Oh?” Adam asked, “So you’re the dick and I’m the lady you still have to woo?”
“No, I think it’s reversed. The first thing you ever said to me was sarcasm.”
“The first thing you said to me was no.”
“Prejudice!” Ronan exclaimed.
“Still doesn’t make any sense.”
“Fine,” Ronan huffed, “Did I at least woo the lady?”
Adam leaned forward and quickly kissed Ronan’s lips.
“Yes, you dick.”
This time, Ronan leaned in to kiss Adam, trying not to topple over the table. Adam laughed against his lips.
“Still think that you’re the dick,” Ronan murmured, “But fine.”
“Sure,” Adam said, pulling away and looking at Ronan.
The space between them told them both this: they still had a lot of figuring out to do, but right now was perfect.