AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, your encouragement keeps me writing. I spent yesterday catching up on all of the episodes of PLL I haven't had time to catch live, and while I'm not super pleased at the state of our intrepid lovers, at least we have fanfic to get us through these dark Ezria days ;) Please review, it helps feed the fanfic writing weevils that live in my head!
10.
Aria spends Black Friday on the couch with her mom watching Turner Classic Movies. They make popcorn, guzzle diet coke, munch on jujubes and milk duds, eat chocolate Twizzlers by the dozen. Aria doesn't let herself think about Ezra's texts, or her fight with Jake, or her life in New York, or how terribly confused she is.
Halfway through their third movie, Aria catches Ella staring at her out of the corner of her eye, her brow furrowed, lips firmly planted in a worried frown. She ignores it, flashing Ella a smile as she reaches for a handful of popcorn before leaning her head against her mother's shoulder.
She spends the next day with Ricky and Mike at the park. Ricky runs circles around them; Aria watches as he chases after a tiny brunette with pigtails, threatening to give her his dreaded cooties. When he finally catches her, he pins her to the floor of the playground and plants a sloppy kiss on her. If only her love life were that easy, she thinks.
Aria goes back to New York on Sunday afternoon, spends the entire bus ride watching the sunset and listening to "Poison and Wine" by The Civil Wars on repeat. She arrives at her building at 11 p.m., and she's so happy to be home that she doesn't even care that she can hear the sounds of the traffic outside, doesn't care that there isn't a single star in the sky, doesn't care that the hallways of her building smell like charred meat and garlic powder.
She gets off the elevator, pulling her overnight bag behind her. Aria lets herself in and shuts her phone off, leaves it in her purse. She falls into bed with a yawn, fast asleep before her head even hits the pillows.
Aria spends the next week holed up in her apartment, trying to ignore a vague feeling of dread in her stomach, this gnawing, restless, jittery feeling rattling deep in her veins. She ignores Ezra's emails, her mom's phone calls, even Jake.
That Friday, Aria gets a last minute invite to an event at the Center for Literacy, a writer's hangout downtown; it's a talkback for contemporary poets to share new works. When she makes it there, she's nearly 15 minutes late. She slips in through the back, scans the packed auditorium to find a seat. When she finally spots one, she curses her luck. There, to the right of the only empty seat in the entire house, is Ezra.
She stumbles over feet and purses, past a dozen people and then Ezra, and nearly trips, falls right into the empty seat with a thud. All eyes in the room turn from the stage to Aria, and she ducks her head, mouths a silent apology.
During the event, Aria stares straight ahead, she never looks at Ezra, but she can feel his eyes on her, nearly searing her skin. She is painfully aware of every inch of skin that seems poised to brush against his, the way they both seem to laugh at the same moments, clap at the same writers.
They haven't spoken since his text and Aria tries not to think about the text, but she keeps coming back to his words, keeps picturing them in her head. I love you, Aria…
When the reading is over, Aria rises from her seat, applauds with the rest of the audience, slips on her coat and moves to leave. Ezra stops her, just as she expected.
"Not here," she whispers, "outside, please."
They file out of the room, struggling not to get separated in the throngs of people, but Ezra grabs hold of her hand, tugging her along with him. Her body starts at the contact, like a an electric shock straight to her heart; they've touched, of course, small brushes of the hand between exchanging papers, cups of coffee or file folders, but never something this intimate, not in so long. Aria can feel her palm sweating, grasped tightly in his.
They finally make it outside, and Ezra drops her hand. Aria puts it in her pocket, wiping the sweat off on the inside lining of her coat pocket; she shivers, pulling the coat tighter around her, buttoning each button with shaky fingers. People are still milling about, talking, smoking cigarettes.
"I'm sorry," Ezra says, "I was so out of line, so drunk and really depressed, I guess, and I just wasn't thinking. I promise, that's the last time I'll ever send anything like that."
Aria tells him it's okay, she understands, and for a few brief seconds they stand there in silence, before Aria speaks. "Do you want to go get a drink? I could really use one right about now."
Ezra smiles, asks her if that's really a good idea. "No," she replies, "but let's do it anyways."
They walk to a bar a few blocks away, Aria has been there before, knows all the bartenders; they greet her by name with a warm smile, offering her the usual. Yes, she says, with an extra twist of lime, please. Ezra orders a scotch, neat. The bar is hosting some sort of karaoke contest; Aria watches as a group of girls belt some old top 40s hit about waking up in Vegas.
One round turns into two, and then three; they sit at the bar sipping their drinks, watching song after song performed by a crowd of increasingly drunk strangers. Ezra tells Aria about his career in Seattle, about Malcolm, about Wes' start-up out in Silicon Valley. They talk like old friends; the conversation lubricated by liquid courage and the stringy mozzarella sticks they order between drinks.
The bartender shouts last call; they pay their tabs and tumble out of the bar into the frozen night. Ezra hails them a cab, waving his hand high in the air. They decide to share a ride, both shuffling into the car. Ezra gives the cab driver both addresses, slurring directions as they pull away from the curb.
They ride in comfortable silence for a few minutes before the cab hangs a sharp right turn, sending Aria flying, pressed up against Ezra, practically in his lap. Then it happens, just like in a movie, some silly romantic comedy starring Kate Hudson; he looks down at her and she looks up at him and for a split second, Aria thinks about kissing him, pulling him close, threading her fingers through his hair.
But then the car stops, jolting Aria forward a bit and she snaps out of Ezra's spell; everything comes flooding back to her, their history, Maggie, Malcolm, Jake. The cab driver clears his throat, announces Aria's address in broken English and Aria grabs hold of the door handle, tries to steady herself before she pushes it open. She half wobbles out of the cab, still fighting the dizzying effects of the alcohol, of Ezra's closeness, of the smell of his cologne.
She watches from the sidewalk as the cab speeds away, glides up the street silently. Ezra turns and locks eyes with her through the rear window of the car. His eyes are saying so much, filled with longing and sorrow and the tiniest sparkle of happiness, elation. Aria knows how he feels, sad and happy all at once, a torrent of inescapable emotions convulsing in her bloodstream like a seizure.
Aria waits until the cab has turned the corner before she leans over and throws up right there on the steps of her apartment building.