Disclaimer: I don't own PLL.

A/N: Hey guys, I'm so glad you all seem to like this so far. Happy reading :)

Chapter Two

I open the door to my new red Audi R8 Spyder before sliding out of the car and shutting the door with a solid thump.

I run my eyes over the small cottage style home in Hackberry, Texas still not believing this is where Jason moved to.

He hates small towns; I never thought he'd leave the confines of LA, let alone California.

"I'll take it." I turn towards the real estate agent standing idly by and smile at her.

"Are you sure?" She questions me; her expression clearly showing she was caught off guard.

"Yes. I don't need to see inside, I'll take it." I tell her again, moving my gaze back to the house.

"No, you can't possible want this." She tells me again, her blue eyes wide and her short blonde hair blowing in the slight breeze.

"Why? Do you know something I don't?" I ask, my gaze flickering between the house and the realtor.

"Well you didn't hear it from me but... oh where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself yet. The names Hanna Marin." Her hand shoots out between us, offering me a hand shake.

"Aria Montgomery." I reach out and shake her waiting hand.

"Ok, so you honestly haven't heard about him yet?" She raises her eye brows in disbelief, letting her eyes roam over my body sizing me up.

"Him who?" I ask, my eyes narrowing. Her head twirls around as her eyes search the disserted street for any prying ears.

"A murderer lives across the street." She whispers so quietly I must have heard wrong.

"Why are you whispering? I can't hear you, besides no one's around." She sends another fearful look at our surroundings, afraid that someone must be hiding in the bushes.

What does she think this is? A conspiracy theory?

"I said a murderer lives across the street." She tells me again, her voice clear.

Well I obviously didn't hear wrong.

"A murderer?" I ask as I scan the houses across the street.

"Yea, he lives in that two storey house with the red roof." I survey the house as a shiver runs up my spine.

"How do you know he's a murderer?" I ask as I see the upstairs curtain flutter, I feel the urge to blush and divert my gaze knowing I've been caught staring. However, I hold my ground because I have left the old Aria behind; the new Aria raises an eye brow and keeps looking at the house.

"Well he's totally creepy. He is always writing or got his nose in a book, not to mention he never socialises with anyone. And his garden looks terrible." Her voice has a hint of disgust meshed with excitement on her tone.

Small towns and idle gossip.

"So all that makes him a murderer? I mean since the whole town thinks he's evil maybe that's why he doesn't have a social life." I turn my questioning gaze to hers, waiting for a response.

"Yes, it does. We all knew this was going to happen; he was such a devil in high school. " She tells me, with a judging look.

"Ok, so why isn't he in prison?"

"On account of they couldn't find any evidence." She whispers while looking at the house with a sense of unease.

"Maybe because there wasn't any?" I ask deciding this town is crazy.

"Tell that to Chloe Smith." I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck at her mysterious tone.

"Who is Chloe Smith?" I ask wearily.

"His victim." Her gaze cuts straight through me.

"His victim? I believe the phrase you people need to hear is, innocent until proven guilty." Her lips set in a thin line and she knows I don't entirely believe her story.

Innocent or guilty, he must be a bad boy and good little Aria has always dated the good guys and look where that got me.

I feel a smirk make it way onto my face at my next thought. I think I found the perfect guy to accomplish step six. And to show Jason what he's missing.

"I'll take it." I tell her once more, looking at the house across the street with a determined look.

"Are you sure?" Hanna's voice is full of concern.

"I'm sure. Oh and one more thing. What's his name?" I don't move my eyes from his house and she gets the hint.

"Ezra Fitz."


"Thanks guys." I wave off the movers with a smile before shutting the front door and sighing at all the unpacking I've got to do.

As I start to unpack the kitchen I think of a way to introduce myself to the murderer across the street.

I can't seem too desperate; I quickly shush the old afraid Aria in the back of my mind and try to think of an excuse to be over there.

It takes me two hours to unpack the kitchen and then I reward myself with a break. I make my way upstairs and into my room looking at myself in the mirror.

I look at my long brunette wavy hair and smile as I run my fingers through it. It wasn't a difficult decision to get rid of the red highlights and put extensions in my shoulder length hair. Jason always loved short hair, but I hated it.

I quickly decide that I don't need any lame excuse to be over at his house, I should just march over there right now and introduce myself.

I reach for my lip gloss in my purse before putting it on my lips and fixing my hair, I survey my ass snug in denim shorts in the mirror for a second before smiling and making my way downstairs.

I shut my front door firmly behind me before walking down the front steps and to the street separating us. I freeze suddenly feeling my feet become ice cold and sprint back into the house.

I lean against the front door cursing at myself for letting old the Aria control me again. I silently debate trying again but decide my frazzled nerves just can't take it.

I walk into the kitchen and my eyes find an empty cardboard box with the words 'baking utensils' scrawled along the side in permanent marker.

I bite my lip before going to the cupboard behind it and retrieving a measuring jug. I may not be ready for big steps which include freezing the old Aria out completely, so this will be my 'lame excuse'.

I exit my front door again, giving myself a silent pep talk before making it up to his yard. I hesitate for a moment before taking a few steps forward and slowly walking up his front steps. I feel my heart race in my chest as the steps creak beneath my weight.

I raise my hand on knock on his wooden door, holding my breath waiting for him to answer.

I let out the breath I was holding and quickly suck in more oxygen when he doesn't answer the door for fifty seconds.

I knock again more forcefully, he cannot be out not after I worked up all this courage to come over.

The stupid realtor said he never leaves. Oh she is so not getting a thank you card.

I tap my stilettos against the wooden porch as I debate turning around and leaving, taking this small defeat as a sign when the front door swings open in front of me.

I choke softly on my spit when my eyes find his naked masculine chest, I slowly move my gaze up to his eyes not being able to force any words out of my dry mouth.

Standing in front of me in all his glory is the town's bad boy and possible murderer, Ezra Fitz.