Unlike the majority of young teenagers, Adam Parrish spent his summer working in a store that didn't believe in air-conditioning. The required uniform did nothing to cool him off; it consisted of a white button up shirt, a pair of khakis, and a name tag (which was the only thing he didn't have to buy himself). Alongside the requirements was a black vest the workers could choose to wear if they wanted, but no one ever did.
The only reason working was slightly bearable was because of his coworker, Blue Sargent. Even she had passed up the chance to wear the black vest when they denied her request to 'fix it', which in her language translated to 'cutting a ridiculous amount of holes in it until no one could longer identify it as a vest'. Fortunately, they shared the same hours and the same days: Tuesdays, 12p.m.-4p.m.; Fridays, 8 a.m.-12 p.m., and Saturdays, 2p.m.-6p.m.. He worked Sunday as well (1p.m.-5p.m.). It was always Adam's first job of the day, leaving there to spend another four hours at an ever hotter junkyard. When he wasn't working at the store or at the junkyard, he was at the fast-food restaurant a couple miles away from his apartment.
Summer was no luxury to Adam, nor was it a break. Though he didn't have to worry about paying for his tuition at Aglionby Academy, he had to worry about buying everything else, including paying his two-hundred-dollars-a-month rent.
Adam Parrish had forgotten what it was like to have a body that never ached, or what it felt like to fall asleep and wake up feeling relaxed. He had forgotten what it was like to have fun, or to do things for fun.
One day, he constantly told himself, it will all pay off.
Adam had just finished wiping the counter when the small bell hanging above the door chimed. It wasn't a busy day, but Sundays never were.
"Welcome to Evan's Everything," he mumbled, hopefully loud enough for the customer to hear. There was no answer to his greeting, but then again, he hadn't expected one. The usual shoppers were old people with horrible hearing, or loud teenagers that didn't even acknowledge the workers, too busy being loud and obnoxious. Adam didn't mind going unnoticed; it meant less people would hurt when he left Henrietta, never to return.
Since it was a Sunday and Sundays tended to be slow, his lane was the only one open. The box with the number 3 glowed dimly, barely giving off enough light to show the number. Someone would have to change the bulbs for all five lanes, and since Blue was too short to reach hers even when standing on the counter, Adam supposed he could do it for her.
It was another ten minutes before the customer found what he wanted. With more aggression than needed, he slammed a box on the counter, the weight of his gaze causing Adam to look up. The boy was a walking 'beware' sign, his shaved head matching his expression, which could scare someone as easily as holding a gun to their forehead. His knuckles carried old wounds, small scars noticeable on his pale skin. There was a dangerous aura surrounding him, giving Adam the impression that he frightened many people. But Adam wasn't frightened; no expression could make him feel fear unless it was an expression from his father. It wasn't until the boy asked, "Are you going to ring up my fucking item or not?" that Adam realized he had been staring.
"Yeah," he said, shaking his head, "sorry." His Henrietta accent slipped in, and he inwardly cringed, hoping the boy standing on the other side of the counter hadn't noticed. Quickly, he rung up the box, pausing when he saw what the computer read. Making sure the computer screen wasn't mistaking since it was ancient, he glanced down. But when Adam saw that the item was indeed a pregnancy test, he ducked his head, feeling the tips of his ears turn a dark red.
The customer didn't wait on Adam to bag his purchase, doing it himself with an annoyed huff. Without looking at Adam, he slammed a ten-dollar bill on the counter, turning on his heel and walking out, the bell ringing loudly above the door. Adam watched as he climbed into the driver side of an expensive looking car, speeding off like he couldn't get away from the store fast enough.
It wasn't the last time Adam saw the customer. He returned every day after that, standing in Adam's line even if it was packed and the line next to him wasn't. At first, he bought things that could be used in everyday life: razors, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and even deodorant. He would never give Adam the chance to bag the items, insisting that he was in a hurry and Adam was 'too damn slow'. Adam assumed he had a credit card with more money than he knew what to do with, but he never used it, only handing Adam cash. And each time he handed the bills to Adam, their hands would brush. The first time it happened, Adam had shrugged it off as an accident, but when it happened again the next day, he wondered if it wasn't as accidental as he had originally thought.
Friday morning was no different. Adam arrived a few minutes before Blue, both using bicycles as their transportation. "Do you know his name by now?" Blue asked, fixing the collar of her shirt.
Adam was slightly regretting telling her about it, knowing he could do without her repeating questions she already knew the answers to. But he figured she would have noticed sooner or later since they did share the same work hours. He had no idea why the customer chose his lane, or why Blue felt a need to tease him about it. Maybe the other cashiers said something about his flippant attitude, though Adam highly doubted it. Sure his expressions and demeanor could scare people more than a horror film could, but the policy for this job—and almost every other job—is: the customer is always right, meaning their attitude as well.
"It's not like we talk," Adam said, pressing the small button to light up his number, "I don't even get a chance to tell him how much he needs to pay. He just gives me money, which is usually much more than he owes, and bags his item himself before leaving."
Blue rolled her eyes, walking around him to get to her register. She grabbed the small stool she kept underneath the counter, standing on it to reach the button that would light up her number. "You talk with your eyes," she teased, shooting him a look before climbing down and leaning back against the counter. Adam rolled his eyes in return, facing forward once again. A customer was a customer, and he didn't get why Blue was treating this one differently, or why she expected him to.
The manager came out of the back room, greeting Blue and Adam while going over to the door, flipping the sign to show the passing cars they were open. Not many people came in at this time, and the ones who did bought small things, like a cold drink and a snack. It was usually people heading to a job they most likely hated. Adam knew he hated his jobs, but he also knew they weren't forever. Just another school year, plus a few more months, and he would be out of Henrietta and on his way to an Ivy League of his choice.
His intentions were to apply to as many as he could: Princeton, Harvard, Dartmouth, and maybe even Yale. The only thing he worried about was transportation; he didn't have a car, and he could only imagine the ache his bottom would endure if he tried biking to the schools that might as well be in another country. He supposed he could take a bus, but that would mean spending money he didn't have. Perhaps he would try juggling another job in order to pay for the tickets. The computers at the local library provided him the free internet he needed to look up financial aid, knowing he would have to pick the school which offered the most in that department. So if he was lucky—which he rarely was—maybe the school which offered him the most was also the school closest to him.
The bell hanging above the door chimed, pulling Adam out of his thought and back into the small work atmosphere. He looked up in time to meet two blue eyes, heart leaping into his throat. Swallowing quietly, he nodded in greeting to the customer—his customer—before saying, "Welcome to Evan's Everything."
The customer rolled his eyes before walking down a seemingly random aisle, footsteps audible in the quiet store. Adam wondered what he was going to buy today, then wondered if he lived in some type of sorority and was the go-to-the-store-and-get-what-we-need guy.
A small 'ahem' made him turn around, raising a brow at Blue's smirking face. He opened his mouth to ask what the look was about, but she nodded towards who he assumed was the customer, turning around in time to see the box laid before him. His ears flushed as he scanned the item, avoiding looking up. He could feel the customer staring at him, and he wanted to tell him it was impolite to stare, but he also didn't want him to stop. Buying a pregnancy test and condoms in the same week didn't strike Adam as smart, but he didn't say so.
"Your total is-" Adam started, but was interrupted by the customer saying, "I can read."
Adam watched as he tapped the small screen which indeed showed the amount he owed. Narrowing his eyes at the boorish behavior, Adam nodded, holding his hand out for the money. The boy handed him a twenty dollar bill, fingers brushing against Adam's palm. He pretended not to notice even though he knew it wasn't an accident, reaching down and grabbing a bag.
Rough fingers wrapped around his wrist, and when Adam looked up, he was surprised to see the customer smirking. It was so different than the usual scowl he wore that Adam could only stare.
"The pregnancy test wasn't for me," the customer said, finally letting go of Adam's wrist, "but the condoms are." He dropped the Trojan box into the bag, eying Adam for a moment longer before turning around and walking out of the store.
Adam ignored Blue's laughter from behind him, focusing on the way his wrist still burned where the other boy had touched it.
It was Tuesday afternoon when Adam finally found out the customer's name.
He found himself watching the door as soon as his shift started, heart sinking each time an unfamiliar face entered. It was almost a routine, but unlike the other routines in Adam's life, he liked this one.
"Waiting for someone?" Blue asked, fixing the hair-clips she had in front. Instead of the khakis, she wore a black skirt, making her look more like a school girl than an employee. The only things missing were pigtails and knee high socks. Adam hoped she wouldn't get in trouble for violating the uniform code, but he didn't think anyone would care, and Blue didn't seem to mind even if someone would.
"No," he responded, turning around to face her. Her expression told him that she didn't believe a word he said, but he ignored it, quickly changing the topic. "Have you figured out what school you're going to apply to in the spring?"
She opened her mouth to respond, but when he heard the door open, he turned around, seeing his customer right away. He wasn't alone this time, a boy around the same age as them walking behind him, looking around the store like it was the most fascinating place he had ever been to. Adam could tell he was also rich, so he doubted a shitty store that was nothing more than a ripoff Dollar Tree was all that fascinating. Maybe he was pretending to be interested, like Adam had pretended to be when he applied for the job.
He waited for the customer to lead his friend down a random aisle, but when they started coming his way, he widened his eyes, taking a deep breath. It took no time for both boys to be in front of him, though only one of them looked his way.
"So," the customer's friend began, grinning brightly, "this is the famous Adam whom Ronan talks about in his sleep." Even though Adam was fairly certain it was a joke, he could feel the tips of his ears burning red. The cus—Ronan rolled his eyes, avoiding Adam's gaze in a way he probably thought was subtle. Adam, however, had tried to subtly avoid his gaze more than enough times to know when he was trying to do the same to him.
His friend continued smiling at Adam until he shifted uncomfortably, a part of him wishing Blue would come help him. But he could hear her sniggering from where he stood, and he hoped neither Ronan nor his friend could as well.
"I'm Gansey," the boy said, holding out his hand for Adam to shake, which he did. "You don't have to tell me who you are. Not only are you wearing a name tag, but you're the topic during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I feel like I know you already."
Ronan shot his friend a venomous look, but he merely waved him off, tilting his head to look over Adam's shoulder. His lips shaped into a perfect 'o', and with another friendly smile, he made his way to Blue's lane. Adam turned and watched in amusement, feeling a small pity for the boy, knowing Blue never dated. Slowly, he turned back around, facing Ronan. They had been alone like this every day for a week, but it felt different today. Ronan wasn't shopping, and Adam wasn't scanning anything. Was he here to have a conversation? If yes, then why?
Crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes at Adam, Ronan leaned forward against the counter. His expression was guarded, but Adam was already able to see the cracks in the 'I don't give a shit' mask he wore.
"I have other customers who might want to check out soon," Adam said calmly, raising a brow at Ronan, "so if you're here for a reason, you might want to hurry and tell me what that reason is."
Ronan stared at him for another full minute before he finally spoke, tone annoyed, but Adam could hear the slight tremor in it. "Can I see you somewhere other than this fucking store?" he asked, blue eyes flashing with something Adam couldn't exactly analyze fast enough.
Adam could only stand there, confused by the question. Was this him asking Adam on a date? Ronan hadn't struck Adam as the 'into boys' type, but then again, Adam probably didn't come off as being into boys either. Except to Ronan, who probably didn't know if Adam actually was into boys, but having enough confidence to ask anyway. He wished he had confidence to do something as risky as that.
When he noticed Ronan's expression start to change, he realized he hadn't answer, Ronan probably thinking he would deny the request. "Yeah," he said quickly, flashing the boy a small smile, "that sounds great." And it did. The last time Adam had went out with anyone was years ago, before his father got the way he was and before Adam had to grow up before he had even lived.
He could tell Ronan was trying not to grin by the way his lip twitched, rolling his eyes to keep the attention away from his mouth. But it was all Adam could focus on at the moment, almost not hearing Ronan's, "Whatever."
Ronan grabbed the sole ink pen in a small cup on the counter, then Adam's arm. His fingers gently pressed into Adam's skin, making his entire arm feel like it was on fire. "If I don't get a call from you tonight or tomorrow, I'm going to come back and demand an explanation." He moved his hand from Adam's arm to his wrist, neatly writing his phone number down on his palm. Ronan's thumb rested over his pulse, and Adam wondered if he could tell how fast his heart was beating against his chest. When he was finished, he leaned forward even more, sliding the pen behind Adam's ear.
"Gansey," he called for his friend, still staring at Adam, "we can go now."
Adam stared back at Ronan, letting out a breathless laugh. Slowly, he turned around, squinting at Blue's red cheeks. It wasn't until he saw her expression that he realized she was that color because of anger, and he wondered what Gansey had said to piss her off. But he didn't seem too concerned, smiling one last time at her before walking back over to Ronan.
"She's a gem," Gansey said, sighing in a way that reminded Adam of old romantic movies. Maybe being called a gem was all it took to set Blue off.
Ronan huffed out a laugh, shoving his friend toward the door.
"Adam," he paused, standing halfway inside and outside the store, "I didn't properly introduce myself. I'm Ronan Lynch."
Adam laughed, thinking it was a little too late to exchange names. "Nice to officially meet you, Ronan Lynch. I'm Adam Parrish."