His phone buzzes with a call, and it shows how well he's doing, because it spooks him. He's pulling out of the garage parking lot, headed home after a late-night shift, and he doesn't recognize the number. Really, he does not want to waste the time with what is probably a wrong number, but after the fight him and Tad had last night, he's not exactly in a rush to get home either. He stops the car and fumbles for his phone, pretending the stiffness in his fingers is just from the cold, from work.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" He doesn't recognize the voice, but it has that cadence that makes him think of the rich boys he went to school with. Must be a mistake.

"Sorry to bother you. Is this still Adam Parrish's number?"

Oh. "It is," he says, hyperaware of his own accent, which comes straight from the dirt of Henrietta. Just like him. "Who's asking?"

"Ah, excellent! My name is Gansey, and it appears we have a mutual friend."

Adam tenses in spite of himself. If a friend of Tad's is calling him, it can't be for anything good.

There are voices in the background of Gansey's call, soft and indistinct. Someone must ask Gansey a question, because his voice sounds muffled, momentarily.

"Yes, it's still his number. Would you like to talk to him?"

The answer must be a negative, and there's a chuckle that Adam can hear even through whatever's muffling the line.

"Okay," says Adam, voice dry. "I'm going to hang up now."

"No, don't do that!" The stranger is instantly sheepish. "Please?"

Adam can feel a headache starting. "Look, I don't know how you got my number, but I just got off work and I'm exhausted. So whatever kind of prank this is, or joke, can we please skip to the punchline?"

"I apologize. I hadn't meant for this to come off like some prank. My friend isn't so good with phones, is all, but since we are briefly on his home turf, he wanted to give you a call, see if you were still around."

Whoever's phone this is must not know him very well, if he honestly thought he might be anywhere else.

"Okay. Whose phone is it?"

"Ronan Lynch."

There's a buzzing in his ear, and maybe his good ear is going on him, because there's no way Ronan Lynch is calling him. They haven't talking in almost four years. Not since graduation, and the party afterwards.

"Adam? You still there? I'm doing this wrong, Lynch, he's your friend."

There's shuffling on the other end, and then a voice that is all too familiar leaks over the line.

"Parrish? Hey."

This free fall of his carefully built world should scare him, but instead it just feels like returning to normal. This was that feeling he battled all throughout high school, like his nerve endings were alive, like every movement had the potential to be dangerous. Back then, he'd almost drowned in it. Now, it is much more scary.

"Hey yourself, Lynch," he retorts, and tries to hide the fact that he's gasping for air.

"You're still in this shit town?"

"Guess so." Fake a laugh, avoid looking at the clock because he's almost late enough to be missed, but he doesn't want to hang up the phone. "You back?"

"Only for the weekend." He sounds exactly the same, his rough voice like sand paper against Adam's very bones. "We have a show in town."

"A show?" Adam tries to imagine Ronan Lunch performing in any kind of show. It's a struggle.

"I'm in a band."

"Oh." Would it be rude to ask what band? Is this something Adam should already have known?

"Yeah." Awkward pause, almost long enough that Adam worries Ronan's already hung up, that he messed up somewhere. But then "Hey, look. We're at that place on seventh, Saturday. We go on at eight."

"Cool." Not a huge place, but nothing really is, here. A good stage, a bar with decent food too. Popular. Adam's been there all of once.

"You should come."

"What?"

Ronan sighs. "Jesus, Parrish. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one."

Didn't help him though, did it, still stuck here, still got nothing in his pockets, still living less than a ten minute drive from the doublewide he grew up in.

"It was nice of you to call," Adam's voice sounds cold, but he's really just tired. "I've gotta go, though."

"Fine. There'll be a ticket for you under your name, if you come."

And Ronan hangs up before Adam had a chance to react. To politely decline, because he shouldn't, he has the night off but he should probably spend it with Tad.

Tad, who is gonna be calling him any second. Stomach clenching (he's just hungry, that's all, he's not afraid to go home, he used to be but he left that behind and that's not his life anymore), he tosses his phone down, puts the truck in gear, and drives.