Kryptonite
"Ms. Montgomery, please stay after class for a moment. I would like to speak with you about the homework assignment." Mr. Fitz's velvety voice flitted across the bustling room as AP English students gathered their textbooks, chattering animatedly. Aria bit her lip to hide her smile, averting her eyes from Spencer as the raven-haired girl passed by her desk on her way out of the classroom, meeting Hanna and Emily by the door. They shot her curious glances before heading off to their lockers to stock up for next period.
Aria felt Mr. Fitz move to close the door, but she didn't look up from the white-painted wood until he was in front of her, leaning his back against a desk belonging to a kid whose name she could never remember, one with spiky brown hair who reeked of cheap cologne. Releasing her lip, she broke out into a smile and looked him up and down.
Ezra was decked in a sky blue button down rolled up at the elbows — darn him, he knew his toned forearms were her kryptonite. Aria's lip found its way between her teeth again, a spark igniting in her stomach. They were little jolts, ones she felt whenever she would read a first kiss in a novel, whenever she would think about Ezra… he was her love interest, you could say.
Seconds passed by, the clock on the green-tinted walls sounding them out like an elementary school child, and they watched each other, imagining touches, until they realized that they didn't have to imagine anymore. His mouth found hers. Aria slammed her back into the chair, pulling him closer over the desk, tangling her fingers in his messy hair. They kissed wildly, heat pouring off of their bodies, the world fading away.
When they pulled apart, flushed, Aria's skin was tingling. Her breathing was laboured, and her voice came out cracked, letting her emotions seep through it. "I've wanted to do that all day."
"Me too," he said, and she felt his heart beat through her palm on his chest. It was racing, his breathing just as laboured as hers. She grinned lazily and loosened his midnight blue tie to let him breathe. He wore a tie every day, left the top button undone, always looking so… mature, yet still so casual. She would watch him as he taught a lesson and revel in how at ease he was in front of a class, how knowledgable he was about his course. Then she would remember — he wasn't nervous, because this wasn't a class presentation he was giving, it was a lecture. He was knowledgable because he'd been to college, studied, graduated, and here she was, in high school, in his class. She didn't deserve Ezra. Sure, sometimes she came off as confident, secure, but sometimes she was a wreck, just like everyone else. Sometimes she was insecure.
He took all those negative feelings away with three words. "I love you."
"I love you too," she replied, because she believed him. Her hand on his heart was like a lie detector, and by the way it raced, she knew it was true. To be honest, she didn't believed he loved her at first. That was why she'd gotten so jealous over Simone, why she'd freaked over Jackie.
When they exchanged those words for the first time, she'd been the first to say them; only, she didn't let him say them back. Instead, she kissed him.
But why? Why was she so insecure around him? She was beautiful, that much was undeniable. In fact, it was so obvious that it needn't be said. Yet still, people told her all the time. Men would come up to her and offer to buy her drinks, flatter her, shower her with compliments about her hair or her eyes or, well (ha, Orwell. Ezra would love that pun), her body… but her beauty did not make her special. Everyone was beautiful — Ezra, especially. So, the real question was: why did he love her?
"You're smart, you've travelled, great taste in music… I'd like to know more about you." That was what he told her that day in Snookers after sliding his scotch down the bar and himself into a closer stool. He didn't tell her she was beautiful, because he didn't need to. Instead, he told her how great she was, told her the same things that would come to be the answer to that real question of why he loved her.
When they exchanged those words for the first time, she'd been the first to say them; only, she didn't let him say them back. She kissed him, because she was afraid. Afraid, that is, that he would tell her she was a child, that he could only ever see her as his student, that she was too immature. He had a tendency to freak out, she'd noticed, especially when it came to their situation (ahem, Hardy), so it wasn't her fault that she started to think he was embarrassed of her.
She kissed him to stop him from answering, but they couldn't kiss forever (no matter how much they wanted to). He said it the second their lips parted, told her over and over how much he loved her, told her he'd say it a million times to make her believe him. She didn't tell him that he just might have to.
Now, she was never afraid to tell him. Now, they would say it as often as they could. Now… she was late for calculus. Darn it.
"Ezra," she murmured against his skin, tucked into the crook of his neck. "I know you don't have a class this period, but I do." Now, she didn't even stop to agonize over how those words held totally different connotations for the both of them. Well, maybe a little (Orwell, maybe a lot).
He groaned into her hair, pulling her even closer for a second before hesitantly letting her go. "I'll write you a note." He had the power to do that, she mused. No, Aria, stop thinking… He handed her a yellow sticky and flashed her a confident grin. She tried not to stare at his signature and how cool it looked compared to hers (just Aria in poor cursive). "Have fun in calc. Ah, who am I kidding. My only advice is not to get caught texting your boyfriend when you get bored, or I just might have to bail you out of school jail."
"No promises," she replied. She tried not to imagine bailing him out of actual jail.
Ezra frowned. "Are you okay, Aria?" She had to think about it for a second before responding, "Yeah."
He didn't ask her any more questions and walked her the short distance from her desk to the door. She gave him a smile to thank him for the note, and he replied, "You're welcome, Miss Montgomery," just as he should have. Then she walked away, down the hall to her next class, heels clicking against the marble floor, reciting in her head that Mr. Fitz had only wanted to tell her what a great job she'd done on the assignment. She hated lying, but she just couldn't wait eight hours to kiss him every day.
When the door closed behind her, Mr. Fitz leaned against it and sighed, running his fingers through his flawlessly messed up hair; he would never deserve her. The muscles in his forearms bulged as he balled up his fists, thinking about how he was afraid.
She was his kryptonite.
A/N: Write about things that scare you. Write when you get inspiration, even if it's at two in the morning like myself. Sometimes you make something beautiful, and sometimes it's sucky (I don't know which this classifies as, but you get the point). What I'm trying to say is that writing is never worthless. So do it.
I think that's all Aria and Ezra needed to hear. Maybe one of you is the next Ezria.
Disclaimer: I do not own Pretty Little Liars. There is no financial gain from this, nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only. I do not own anything that bears a resemblance to Pretty Little Liars or any other story on this site.