aglionby academy parties were not ronan’s style. he much preferred the burnt out reek of tyres on old concrete, cheap alcohol, and the tangible feel of dreams. the greywaren was not particularly forgiving.

however, gansey had somehow managed to drag ronan, adam, and noah along to a party, presumably of some stuck up rich prick who’d never spent a day without his mother’s money. ronan hated the sort.

he did enjoy the taste of danger, though, thick and sharp and all things wild on his tongue. which had, regrettably, been in a few too many mouths this night already. ronan could picture his older brother declan’s disapproving look already.

but the beer — disgustingly expensive, who needed that much ‘flavor-enhancing yeast’? — had slipped down the middle lynch brother’s throat as easily as breathing, and he indulged in a few games of spin the bottle.

“i am being perfectly fucking civil!” ronan snapped mulishly at gansey, who stood outside the cluster of partygoers, mouth still damp from some pretty boy who looked far too similar to one adam parrish.

still pouting, ronan licked his lips salaciously, knowing there would be more than a few eyes on him. a hand went to the back of his skull, rubbed the dark buzzed hair there, and he spun the glass bottle again. really, the antique glasswork was refined enough to smash against the floorboards.

a few kisses couldn’t hurt anyone.

then it landed on you, a prettier stranger, and ronan’s harsh blue eyes flicked to yours. his hand even slipped off the thigh of the adam lookalike, instead fiddling with his own belt loop. “well, pucker up, i haven’t got all evening.”

it was clear snark, etched into the baring of ronan’s teeth. perhaps he saw something in you, that made his cold celtic lips turn upward.

what fresh hell was this?