Hey guys, I'm sorry for not updating yesterday! I have to admit that I had a minor case of writer's block since this chapter has little Ezria. Thank you all so much for the reviews and suggestions! Keep calm and keep reading, this is an Ezria story and while I don't want to give too much away, they ARE endgame. Because they're meant for each other, of course *fangirls* Anyway, there miiigghhtttt be a tiny bit of something between Jason and Aria (EVENTUALLY), but don't worry your little Ezria-loving hearts! All's well that ends well, in the words of The Bard. I just like to keep things interesting along the way. Keep reading and reviewing, and you won't be disappointed. Hint; don't forget that Ezra is going to work at Rosewood High this fall, which Aria doesn't know yet! Thanks again!

Kirleigh

Aria

She and her friends spent the rest of the night chatting about celebrities and music; they finally fell asleep, up in Spencer's room, in the early morning hours. Aria didn't wake up until nearly eleven, at which time Hanna was still fast asleep, Emily was coming back from her morning jog, and Spencer was going over potential colleges on her laptop, while curled up in bed.

Aria went downstairs to make dairy-free waffles, enjoying the silence- for a few minutes, until the rest of the girls came down and continued their conversation from the night before about the latest summer fashions. She served up the waffles with berries inside and 100% naturally flavored blueberry syrup, which all her friends enjoyed immensely.

After breakfast, they began poring over magazines for back-to-school fashions- although, as Hanna complained, they were barely halfway through summer vacation. That didn't stop her from joining in on critiquing each new trend, complementing and crushing like she was already a fashion mogul known world-wide.

Aria enjoyed looking through the magazines, imagining ways she could alter the skirts and jackets, or picturing different designs she could pair up. While Hanna was the perfectly trendy one, Spencer was the cute preppy one, and Em was the gorgeous sporty one, Aria loved to mix things up in unexpected ways, often surprising even herself with the results of her fashion adventures.

Her mind kept drifting while her friends chatted; she couldn't stop thinking about her swiftly approaching conversation with Ezra. She'd told the girls she would call him when she got home, and set up a time for them to meet at the Brew. It had taken her nearly an hour to fall asleep last night, she was so nervous.

She figured there were two ways it could go; he'd be angry and disgusted, and refuse to ever see her again, or he would be shocked but eventually wouldn't care about her age because he really cared about her.

She was anxious to know how he would feel, yet she dreaded actually telling him. Aria had read hundreds of books about love, and written a few of her own, but she just now realized that she'd had no idea what it really felt like before meeting Ezra.

She'd written about the spark between two people; the tangible connection, as real and thick as a rope; the way they'd get lost in each other's eyes and spend hours together that flew by like minutes. She'd read thousands of phrases and words about lovesick fools and those dizzy with passion, or lost in the haze of emotion.

Aria had spent years getting lost in stories about serendipity, fortune, chance, and the possibility of true love, but it was not until that night, a millennia-long week ago, that she'd met the man with blue eyes and actually known what love is.

And knowing that he felt the same way was like having wings; like she was finally free of her unintentional, self-imposed cage, and she could fly higher than she'd ever dreamed. And here she was, panicking about the secret she'd kept from him.

Stop thinking about this now, she told herself, trying to focus on the conversation between her friends. They were discussing their courses for this fall; Hanna had gotten into three AP courses, to her own surprise, and Spencer, to no one's surprise at all, was practically taking every AP course available.

Em's great strength, which made her already pursued by several colleges, was her swimming ability. That being said, she was a hard-working student, and had made it into a few AP and honors classes as well. Aria was taking AP English, as everyone had predicted, but she was also in AP Bio, French, and History.

She half-heartedly joined the conversation for an hour or so as it shifted from school to nail polish to college. By the time it had rolled around to two thirty, Aria knew her parents would be annoyed, and she still had to call Ezra.

Just as she was stretching off the soreness caused by lounging on the carpeted floor for hours, Aria's phone started to buzz. To her surprise, it was Ezra, and she hurried out of the room to take it while her friends watched with varied amounts of concern and amusement.

"Hello?" she answered in a soft voice, unable to suppress her eagerness to hear his voice again, how rich and sweet it sounded. "Aria," he started, and she heard the relief and desperation in his voice, and immediately knew that something was wrong, something was off.

"Yes, Ezra? What's wrong?" she asked in concern, dozens of scenarios flashing through her head. "Aria," he repeated in the same tone, seeming to treasure feeling her name in a way that sent warm shivers down her spine.

"I'm in New York," he whispered, as if he hoped saying it quietly enough would lessen its reality. "What?" her eyes widened; this was the last thing she'd expected. "I'm in New York," he repeated with a sigh. "My brother… he's hospitalized here. I need to stay, he has to have someone look after him for a few weeks."

"Is he okay?" the words tumbled out of her; mechanical words, her automatic system taking over while her rational mind tried to process his words. A few weeks? Does that mean I won't see him the whole time? A part of her started to panic; she could barely stand having gone without him this long.

"He will be. He was mugged and shot, and the wound's pretty bad. I got the call in the middle of the night, and I'm with him now. He's still in surgery. I just needed to talk to you, I needed to hear your voice and tell you…" his voice faltered, and Aria spoke up in a halting voice.

"Ezra, take care of him. I'm so sorry this happened. Just promise me you'll stay safe and not get shot yourself? I don't know how long I can go without seeing you," she teased softly, trying to keep the panic and worry out of her voice.

"I will," he chuckled softly. "I'll see you soon, Aria. I…" There it was again. That almost, that so-close-yet-so-far-away. Aria wanted him to say it so badly; she could hear his voice saying it in her mind. I love you, Aria. But if he couldn't say it yet, he wasn't ready, and she didn't want to push him into anything.

So instead she forced a smile to her face, more for herself than him since he couldn't see it anyway, and responded in an even tone. "Soon. Call me when it's less hectic, and I promise, the minute you get back we'll set something up." She heard the earnestness in his voice when he replied; the smile became easier.

"I will. Thank you. I have to go… but be expecting that call." Miles apart, they both looked at their feet, smiling slightly, simply enjoy the sound of each other's voices, and even in the midst of this new obstacle, life became a little easier to bear.

They murmured their goodbyes and hung up, and then Aria began to panic again. She knew she couldn't tell him the truth now; she had to do it in person. But she also knew that the longer secrets last, the bigger they become. And the last thing she wanted to do was continue to keep this secret from Ezra for a few weeks.

She trailed back into the living room, where the girls immediately noticed her change in attitude. After they spent several minutes peppering her with questions, she finally broke down and recounted the conversation to them, biting her lip anxiously.

They were as sympathetic and concerned as she knew they would be; Spencer commented dryly but kindly on her bad luck, and Hanna hugged her as Em tried to cheer her up and distract her by making delicious hot chocolate- never mind that it was eighty one degrees outside.

They all meant well, and as always, Aria greatly appreciated her friends' support. They understood that this was hard for her, and they were standing right by her, as they always had. For the millionth time, she was struck by how lucky she was to have these girls as her best friends.

They made each other laugh even when someone had failed a math test or was getting through a hard breakup; they always supported each other no matter the situation; and they shared every secret. Sometimes Aria felt like a girl from a typical high-school movie, with the group of friends so many girls are jealous of.

She eventually started to feel better, but suddenly remembered her earlier urgency to get home and had to hurriedly gather her things. Hanna and Em decided their parents would be getting curious as well, and the three of them headed out of Spencer's house together; Em drove away as Hanna and Aria walked together until the road split in two and they headed separate ways.

When they'd passed the DiLaurentis' house, Aria couldn't help but notice that Jason's car was parked outside, and there was a dark figure moving behind an upstairs window. She hadn't pointed it out to Hanna, or lingered too much on what it meant, but now that she was walking on her own, she couldn't help but wonder.

So he was back, for who knows how long. Had he heard about his father's move to rehab, and decided to visit his old hometown? Aria had to admit that Jason didn't seem like a very nostalgic-type guy, but she couldn't think what else it might have been.

Deciding that she probably had at least a few weeks to figure it out, Aria brushed the topic from her mind and returned to what was always lying in her subconscious, waiting; the thought of Ezra. This new twist in their story had Aria nervous and worrisome; if she waited until he came back to tell him the truth, it would seem she'd been keeping secrets from him for a very long time.

But, if she told him over the phone, she wouldn't be able to look him in the eyes and see what he was thinking, or truly tell him how sorry she was. And going to New York was out of the question; her parents were too neurotic at this point to even let her go out of town with her friends, and she didn't even know where in New York Ezra was.

Chewing her lip in thought, Aria pondered the possible endings to this. She had to believe that Ezra would forgive her, even after this. She had to have faith in that connection they'd had, in that amazing spark that flickered when they kissed or even held hands.

She did have faith in it, she decided. She'd stay in touch with Ezra; although she missed him already, she was pretty sure she'd survive if she was able to hear his voice every so often. She knew he had to stay in New York for his poor brother, and she admired how readily he'd gone to help.

She couldn't get those blue eyes out of her mind, sweet and open and caring. If eyes are the windows to the soul, she decided, Ezra's soul is the sky on a fall day, and it smells like Earl Grey tea and books. She laughed quietly to herself at the thought, her spirits already higher at the memory of Ezra's adorable crooked smile.

I'm going to write about him, she thought absentmindedly as she neared her own house. I'll write about how we met, and how different I feel around him, and the way my heart seems to shudder when we touch. I'll write about how I love him, she told herself, her excitement growing at this new inspiration.

And now it felt realer, now she could so easily admit it to herself; maybe she had only known Ezra Fitz for a few days, but there was no longer any doubt in her mind that these feelings were real. She could no longer deny that when she was around him; kissing him, cuddling with him; she was happier than she'd ever been before, and her smile came easier than it ever had, and her heart pounded and her pulse flew.

She couldn't deny, to herself or to anyone she knew if they asked, that she had done more than fallen for Ezra. She'd tumbled, dived, toppled, dropped, plummeted. And more than that, she, Aria Montgomery, was deeply and truly in love with Ezra Fitz.

Ezra

Here he was. Sitting outside a hospital room, his head a million miles away. Well, more like three hundred miles, in the tiny town of Rosewood, where the girl he was in love with lived. He'd almost said it- again- but had stopped at the last moment; but not because he was afraid of how she'd react, like last time.

He'd stopped this time because he wouldn't see Aria for a few weeks, and he'd always thought that I love you shouldn't be an excuse, or a reason, or a goodbye. It should be something you say when things are getting better, not worse. It should be what you say when you're happy and together and looking forward to the future; not regretful that you'll be spending the next few weeks apart.

So he didn't say it, he didn't break that barrier or fight that battle just yet. He wanted to look into her beautiful hazel eyes when he told her, wanted to watch her lips form the sounds as she whispered it back.

He pulled his thoughts back then, not wanting to get ahead of himself. Although Ezra knew she knew how he felt, and was fairly confident she felt the same (otherwise, what was this passionate connection they so obviously both felt?), but he wasn't the kind of person to build himself up on hopes.

He was distracted from his thoughts when the surgeon came out of the room, and he immediately stood. "How is he? Did it go okay? Has he woken up yet?" The surgeon, a tall, well-built man with wavy blonde hair and a nametag that read Dr. Reed, shrugged slightly.

"He'll be fine after a month or so of rest, and eventually physical therapy," the doctor said in that doctor-ly reassuring voice. "The bullet was pretty deep in his thigh. Major blood loss, some pretty bad bone fracturing. You told the nurse you'll be there to take care of him for a few weeks, bring him to appointments, right?"

Ezra nodded quickly. If he wasn't there for Wesley, his mother might actually decide to actually act like a mother for once and appear to nurse her younger son back to health. Of course, it wasn't just that he couldn't let their mother sneakily convince Wesley she actually cared (she'd managed to dig her claws into him before, and it had caused a rift between the brothers that Ezra wasn't eager to reopen), he was genuinely worried about Wesley.

The last time they'd spoken was the day Ezra met Aria, over a tense phone call about their imperial mother. Wesley had always been the one to stand up for her, to insist she only wanted what was best for them, and that Ezra was just causing her unnecessary stress.

Unlike Ezra, Wesley had always been more or less content to live the high life; although he had admirable ambitions and dreams, he saw no problem with falling back on the family's wealth in times of trouble. Ezra, on the other hand, was more stubborn, and definitely more enthusiastic about working for a living.

Still, Ezra often had to remind himself that his brother was only eighteen, and a Cornell freshman. He didn't live in a dorm; as a rather typical wealthy move, he'd opted to rent out a flat off-campus instead.

Although they weren't on fantastic terms at the moment, Ezra and Wesley had gotten along quite well when they were both still living at home, and Ezra looked forward to rekindling their brotherly friendship now, if that was possible.

Now, the surgeon was walking past him down the hall, and he stood awkwardly for a minute, unsure if he was allowed to go in to see his brother. Eventually, he asked a nurse as she exited the room, and was asked to wait at least another half hour or so, as Wesley likely wouldn't be gaining consciousness for a good hour anyway.

So Ezra waited, pulling out his newly-returned copy of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and starting it for the millionth time. Most people thought it was either nerdy or cliché that he liked it so much, but he genuinely loved the story. Now, though, he had to admit that this copy held new meaning for him.

He thumbed through the pages without actually reading more than a few phrases; he pictured her finding it on the little sofa where he'd sat; imagined her sifting through the bent pages with that small smile that drove him crazy (he had a very accurate imagination).

As much as he was looking forward to seeing Wesley, he already missed Aria's hazel eyes enough to make his heart ache, and wasn't entirely sure how he would manage three or four weeks without her. He knew it was crazy to be so intoxicated with someone so soon after meeting them; but he'd already admitted to himself that he was in love with her.

That's what this was, then, right? Love? Ezra had thought he loved Jackie, thought he'd understood this incredibly complex yet amazingly simple emotion. But this thing he felt with Aria was nothing like what he'd had with Jackie.

Aria made him feel alive; made him feel real and purposeful and meaningful. Every time those mesmerizing eyes were on him, he felt like a different person, and it was someone he liked being. She made him feel dizzy, happier than he could remember being in a while (not that he was usually unhappy, which made it even more remarkable), absentminded, energetic, content.

He'd never had so much unbridled enthusiasm, yet he found he could barely concentrate on anything but her. He'd been looking forward to working with her the rest of the summer, seeing her nearly every day. He'd already called the publishing office, and had made the decision to resign; he had the job at Rosewood High lined up for this fall, and he'd be getting back a few days before that started.

He was actually really looking forward to the teaching job; he'd been thinking for years that he might like to teach. He had played with the idea while in school, wanting to teach high school or eventually college. Now he was lucky enough to have that chance right out of the university.

While he continued to wait patiently, Ezra thought about the coming weeks. The nurse had filled him in on the help Wesley would need; there was major leg trauma, and he would be bedridden for a couple of weeks. Then he'd be confined to a wheelchair for a couple more, and Ezra would have to take him to check up appointments.

He wouldn't have to stay the whole time. He'd told the nurse about his teaching job (which he really should be back in Rosewood to prepare for a few days early), and after he left, Wesley would have to have someone come in to check on him occasionally.

It was only the first of August. A month 'til school started, a little less before he would see Aria again, Just a few weeks, he told himself, checking his watch as if expecting a few days to have already flown by. Although he was looking forward to re-bonding with his younger brother, he couldn't deny that part of him was already looking forward to the end of this.

Part of him was anxious to get back to Rosewood, to call Aria as soon as he was back in his own apartment, to meet her at the Brew and behold her beaming face. Driving up here at four in the morning, Ezra had decided that he was officially crazy. A few days with this bewitching woman, and she was constantly on his mind.

He had to believe it was love, that she felt the same, because otherwise he was just a fool who had fallen too fast and too hard, and would be left with an aching heart and bruised ribs. Sighing, Ezra closed his eyes, pushing all thoughts of Aria out of his mind in an attempt to rest.

He hadn't slept a minute in the last (he counted it out in his head) thirty-two hours. It was rolling around to four in the afternoon, and his head started to droop. He rested his chin on his hands, as his elbows sat in his lap. That quickly became uncomfortable, so he shifted and rested his head against the wall instead.

He fell asleep with ease, as most exhausted people do, and was met with a wild horde of thoughts as he drifted into unconsciousness. He dreamt that he went into see Wesley, but Wesley had become Aria, and she was giving him that sweet smile that made his insides burn.

He dreamt that he was driving back to Rosewood, and Aria was waiting outside his apartment when he arrived. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and kissed him, and he could taste the toffee-flavored lip gloss on her soft mouth.

He dreamt he was back in the hospital; waiting, always waiting; but now Aria was beside him, and her tiny, soft hands were holding one of his bigger ones, and she was looking up at him with those big melting green-gold eyes, and she was speaking in a soft, soothing voice. And he couldn't hear the words, but he believed them.

His dreams surrounded him, constantly shifting and changing, but with one thing in mind; one person. Aria. She was everywhere, smiling at him and laughing at something he said, holding his hand as they walked through an unfamiliar park. She was standing on tip toes to kiss his cheek, to press her soft lips against his.

She was looking deep into his eyes, deeper than anyone had ever looked before, and those mesmerizing doe eyes of hers were sparkling. In Ezra's dreams, Aria was always next to him, always there for him. As she had been ever since he met her.

She was so happy, so vibrant and alive in his dreams, that he almost believed it was real. He almost thought that Aria was really sitting in the seat beside him, flashing that beautiful smile at him. Almost. The dreams seemed to go on for hours, taunting him and teasing him. They swirled around him like clouds, and he let himself get lost in them.

And then the nurse was tapping his shoulder gently, telling him Wesley was starting to wake up, and he was checking his watch and realizing only twenty minutes had passed.

Aria

She was at her desk, in her room, with the door closed. She'd been writing for hours; at least, that's what it felt like (it was really only thirty minutes or so). Her head was spinning the way it always did when she'd emptied herself out onto the paper like she had just now.

She stared at the words in front of her, trying to make sense of the dizzy mess, the scramble of words and phrases she'd brought to life in an effort to recreate these emotions she had flying around in circles behind her rib cage.

Thoughts, she'd written.

Thoughts are extraordinary. They capture our beings, our wants and desires, our innermost secrets, and appear as a voice in our heads. Isn't that marvelous?

I have so many thoughts. When they're too much for me, I empty them out on paper or into a little mason jar. But the thoughts I have now are too precious; I think I'll hold onto them for a while.

These days, my thoughts are all about him. About the sweet, anxious boy I met in the coziest corner of the place neither of us expected to find ourselves at.

But he's not a boy, and I apologize for misspeaking. He is a man, tall and strong and experienced in the ways of the world. And though I feel small next to him (who am I kidding, I feel small everywhere), when he kisses me I feel alive. Alive and unstoppable.

When he holds my hand, I feel important. Important to him, and nothing else matters. When I rest my head on his shoulder, I feel more comfortable in my own skin than I ever have before. When he pulls me closer, I am weak in the knees and powerless to object, although I never willingly would.

We could talk for hours about things we know nothing about, for the simple pleasure of staring into each other's eyes. We could laugh together over things we find completely unamusing, just because when we're together, the world is light and happy and we could laugh over any little thing.

He makes me feel full, full of complicated emotions and simple happiness, and I love the way he looks at me when he thinks I can't see. He makes me feel light, light as a feather and gifted with angel wings, and I love the way he chuckles at the odd things I say.

He makes me feel like the luckiest person on earth. Maybe I am. Who else had the good fortune to be right there, getting drinks, when the perfect person for them was waiting right in the corner? I thought I was waiting for my order. I thought it was just my birthday, just a night out with my friends.

But there he was, and there I was; and maybe things just happened to work out, or maybe I let my friends convince me to go to that nightclub for the same reason he decided to go back to that cozy corner.

And so now we've each been found, by the only person that matters. Now I can hear his voice and his soft chuckle and I'm happy. Not that I'm typically unhappy, but being around him gives me this feeling of flying, this sense of security.

It's this simple kind of happiness, the kind you feel when there's somebody or something that never fails to lift your spirits; and just seeing them can make your day. That's what I feel about him. And when I hear his voice, I feel as though my insides are melting.

I've written about princesses and knights and wizards; more cheesy love tales than I care to count. I've written more romantic phrases and whispered words than I probably could count, yet throughout it all I managed to retain the outlook that there's no such thing as true love.

People are surprised by that, but I think it's why I write the things I do; to keep the balance. To me, everything I wrote was pure fiction, even if the story took place in my own hometown. I'm barely seventeen years old; I have no need to worry whether I'll find the love of my life any time soon.

And yet, here I am. Writing down any thought that appears in my head, with the dizziness of any lovesick idiot. Don't mistake my former disbelief with cynicism, though. I'm not one of those sarcastic, dry-witted critics of affection. I never was, and I certainly am not now.

Now, I honestly think I've found it, the feeling so many pine for or cry over. I think I was somehow lucky enough to happen upon it, and I can't begin to describe this sensation. He is beautiful, and he loves me. I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice; and I've never been more excited by someone else's views of me.

He loves me, and although I'm past calling myself a foolish, impulsive teenager, I love him too.

Aria reread it three times, crossed out phrases and replaced words; she sighed over it and reread it again. Then she put her pencil back in its place, tip against the paper.

More than loving him (I love my parents, my brother, my best friends) I am in love with him. And knowing that, embracing it, letting it run through my veins, I have truly found myself. I have found I am not Aria Montgomery, small-town high-schooler. I am not Aria Montgomery, lover of fine literature.

I am not Aria Montgomery, future author, or Aria Montgomery, lovesick fool. Although I am all of these, in a sense, none no longer represent me, my hopes and dreams, my past, present, and future aspirations. None of them encompass the person I'm happy to have become.

Now, sitting here and letting these words fall from my pencil, I am simply Aria Montgomery. The girl he loves; the girl who loves him more than life. I am me, and I am so happy to have realized that.

She let the pencil fall from her grasp; she pushed her chair back and smiled. She loved writing because it was how she found herself; every time her personality changed, she found the new one lurking between the lines of her written work.

Aria was in love with Ezra, and was incredibly impatient to tell him.

Don't worry about too much time apart, guys- Ezra will be reunited soon! Read on and Review!