Henry Cheng hummed boredly as he went through the list of all his old classmates and crossed out a few names, slowing down as he remembered (or tried to remember) certain boys he passed. Very few of the names had changed while most remained the same on the supposedly up-to-date list he’d requested from his assistant. Scrolling past and placing a checkmark next to Tad Carruthers, he paused at Richard Campbell Gansey III and let out a wistful sigh.
Richard Campbell Gansey, Dick Gansey, Gansey Boy. Gansey. The brightest bulb in the brightest chandelier entirely made up of Aglionby’s shining stars.
Henry shook his head, tilting it back to exhale a mournful breath. What a damn shame.
He shook himself from his thoughts before crossing out the once influential name and moving on.
As he kept going down the list, he passed more nostalgia-inducing names but was brought to a full stop when he arrived at the L’s.
Ronan N. Lynch.
Ah, Gansey’s guard dog. A snake-like, dangerous boy so sharp you could cut yourself just by looking at him, Henry snorted. Unfortunately, he’d been as handsome as he was dangerous.
A reflexive glance toward the next name made him do a double take and choke on his spit.
Henry stared, his mind working a mile a minute to process this name. There had only ever been one Lynch family at Aglionby, made up of the three starkly different Lynch brothers who would have made a powerful triple threat if only Ronan and Declan had gotten along. There had never been an Adam Lynch as far as he knew.
But, as far as he knew, there was also only one Adam who could have become this unfamiliar Adam Lynch.
Henry rapidly scrolled down to the P’s, and to his satisfaction, there was no Adam Parrish among the names there.
He remembered him, outstandingly beautiful in a way that was so different from all the other boys at Aglionby, including the presidential handsomeness that was Richard Campbell Gansey III and the dangerous appeal of the snake-like Ronan Lynch. Cornflower blue eyes, a sweet Henrietta voice, tawny and soft-looking hair, a brain worth the entire school’s envy, and a bone structure so fine that Adam had been asked to do modeling (and later shirtless modeling which, if Henry remembered correctly, Ronan had made himself present for) with the promise of extra credit for some of the art classes.
Of course, he thought amusedly, there was no one but gorgeous Adam who could have married the wicked Ronan Lynch. The twenty-first century’s modern day Beauty and the Beast, he mused.
Henry chuckled at the pleasant revelation.
Carruthers is going to be so crushed.
Adam hummed into the kiss as his husband groped his ass before lifting him to sit on the counter. Ronan pulled him to the edge and wrapped his legs around his waist, rocking them from side to side as Adam began laughing into the kiss.
The sizzle and pop of bacon in the pan next to him made him break away, wrapping his arms around his husband’s neck as Ronan pressed their foreheads together. Adam gazed into those gentle gunmetal blue eyes, loving the purest sight of his favorite color.
“We got a special letter today,” Ronan smirked, wrapping one strong arm around Adam’s waist and reaching for said letter on the other end of the counter.
“Who’s it from?” Adam asked playfully, curious to see what could possibly have made Ronan so eager (at least, eager for Ronan) to share.
Ronan retrieved the letter and handed it to his husband before resuming running his hands up and down Adam’s sides. Adam raised an eyebrow as he pulled the letter out of the sliced envelope. He spared a glance to find out the address of the sender before pausing.
“Aglionby?” he laughed in disbelief.
“Yeah,” Ronan murmured, “our class is having a reunion party or some shit like that. But that’s not the best part.” The smirk was back on his face full force, and this made Adam unfold the letter faster.
The first line told him the reason for Ronan’s concealed excitement.
“Dear Mr. Ronan and Adam Lynch…”
Adam felt giddiness bubble up in his chest, and Ronan flashed a brilliant smile. He leaned down and pressed their lips together, reaching for his husband’s hand and stroking the dreamy band of gold that was on Adam’s left ring finger and identical to the one on his own.
Later, Adam skimmed the letter, noting the explosive 10 Year Reunion! announcement that seemed to occupy the entire page. At the very bottom of the page was a handwritten portion that Adam was sure was only on his and Ronan’s invitation.
Dearest Ronan and Adam,
Way to invite me to the wedding! I could have planned it to be the ceremony of the century. I would have gone all out with fairy lights, fountains, and even a fucking gazebo. Damn it Lynch, it was probably just you who didn’t want to invite me. Although, now “Lynch” applies to both of you. I don’t take it back, it probably was both of you. Imagine my very hurt and betrayed surprise when I came across “Adam Lynch” right under Ronan’s name on the invite list. I expect to see you both at the reunion, or I’ll tell everyone Adam married Tad Carruthers and has seven kids with him.
Your should-have-been wedding planner,
Strong arms wrapped around Adam from behind, and Ronan’s deep voice mumbled from over his shoulder, “Carruthers is going to be so crushed.”