Author's Note:
Hello, beautiful people! Thank you sooo much for your favorites, follows, and reviews on this little story! Reviews, especially, warm my heart and truly inspire me to keep going. Knowing that you enjoy reading this makes me so happy, and seeing that you like what I'm doing in the form of a review makes me want to write even more:) So please keep the reviews coming! Special thanks to ShanaLy and obsessedwithezria for your reviews on chapter one…
ShanaLy: Thank you for the technical advice. You're a life saver! Sometimes I worry that my writing style can be get too detailed, so I'm SO glad you liked all the details:)
obsessedwithezria: Your review is honestly what inspired me to write this chapter. As soon as I read it I was like, 'I have to keep writing this story for obsessedwithezria!' Seeing how excited you were about it made me even more excited about writing it!
Now, about this chapter… It picks up where the last chapter left off with Aria, so she's leaving work. I know last time I said this would probably be a two- or three-shot, but now I'm thinking it'll be 4-5 chapters. I keep getting all these new, juicy ideas;) Also, it's been raining for literally 48 hrs straight where I am, and I think you'll see it inspired this chapter.
Anyway, my apologies for the long A/N. Without further ado, here's chapter two; I hope you enjoy it! Love, thanks, and much appreciation. ~R
Boston, MA:
Aria let out a huff from inside the elevator as she gave the 'Lobby' button a second, perhaps too forceful, punch. It had a nasty tendency of sticking; something that, on any other day, wouldn't have bothered her at all, but today it was getting on her last nerve. She was tired, and she didn't have time for sticky elevator buttons. She just wanted to get home to her tiny shoebox of an apartment so that she could kick off her uncomfortably high heels and relax.
A satisfied smile found its way onto Aria's face as the stubborn button lit up after the second punch and the elevator began its descent to the ground. Admittedly, her week had ended badly, but she decided to take it as a good omen that it had only taken her two tries – instead of the usual minimum of three – to get the elevator moving. And, because of her late departure from the office, she had even managed to dodge the normal Friday evening rush that so often left her sandwiched between strangers on the uncooperative elevator.
Maybe this weekend wouldn't be all that bad after all.
By the time the elevator reached its destination, its doors opening to reveal the lobby of the office building, Aria was feeling cautiously optimistic about the coming days. She didn't know why exactly, but she just had a feeling that this weekend wouldn't be as dismal or lonely as those before it. She had a feeling it would be better – much better – as if her heart was telling her mind to gear up for something wonderful.
But the smile disappeared from her face almost as quickly as it had appeared, the swell of hope in her heart swiftly dissipating, when she exited the elevator and caught sight of the large glass doors at the front of the lobby. Through them she could see a torrential downpour assaulting the pavement outside. Pedestrians scurried along the sidewalk, attempting yet failing to escape the deluge from under their umbrellas, while cars crept in and out of view, wipers flinging virtual buckets of water aside as they did.
Aria reached into her bag, quickly sifting through its contents as she clung to the last shred of optimism she possessed. But it was useless; she'd forgotten her umbrella.
She knew there were always vendors selling umbrellas at the subway station, but that was a ten minute walk away. She'd be drenched by then, and, to top it all off, her feet would be blistered from walking that long in the rain. Aria silently cursed herself as she looked down at her strappy heels. They were beautiful, but they weren't exactly ideal for walking, especially not in these conditions.
Slinging her bag back onto her shoulder, Aria's eyes darted back to the lobby doors, her brow furrowing as she contemplated her damp and dreary fate. The rain hadn't let up a bit; people were still scurrying, and cars were still creeping.
She wanted nothing more in that moment than to be home, but it seemed fate was throwing her a very unwelcome curveball.
So, shoulders sinking in defeat, Aria sauntered lazily over to a nearby bench several yards across from the building's entrance, plopping down on it unceremoniously. Outside, the storm was still raging, and, unfortunately for Aria, she'd have to wait it out.
She pulled her phone out from her bag, noting the time as she searched in vain for a distraction to make her wait pass by faster.
5:39 PM.
Aria only hoped the rain would clear up quickly. She didn't want to find out where her mind would wander without the distraction of her commute.
Newton, MA:
Ezra had underestimated how long the drive from Rosewood to Boston was. In his head, Boston had always seemed pretty close to New York, and, considering that he'd made the two-hour drive from Rosewood to New York on more than a few occasions, he'd assumed the drive to Boston wouldn't be that much longer.
He'd been wrong.
After he'd managed to bribe Sabrina into covering her shift at The Brew alone and thrown a change of clothes into his car – he knew he wouldn't be making the drive back to Rosewood tonight – his eyes had nearly popped out of his head when he plugged his destination into the GPS affixed to his windshield. Boston wasn't just 'down the road a ways,' as he'd always assumed; it was almost six hours down the road. This gave Ezra just enough time to get to Aria's office by the end of business, but he'd be cutting it close. And, with it being the end of the week, if Aria decided to leave work early, he might miss her completely.
Now, at this point, a smarter man might have decided to put off his impromptu Friday road trip until Monday, but the idea of postponing his reunion with Aria never crossed Ezra's mind. His solution, instead, was to put pedal to metal, breaking every speed limit between Pennsylvania and Massachusetts on his way. And, however ill-planned it was, his strategy of playing 'beat the clock' had unwittingly served him well so far. Five and a half hours after his departure from Rosewood, Ezra found himself pulling out of a gas station in Newton, a Boston suburb. His eyes met the time display on the dash as he took the exit back onto the turnpike.
4:53 PM.
He was making good time – better than he ever could've expected – but it wasn't good enough. He still had another half hour to go, and that wasn't even accounting for traffic or parking. He couldn't stop the question that entered his mind as he mentally calculated his arrival at Aria's office; 'What if I'm too late?'
Ezra shook his head – and the question from his mind – immediately. His hands involuntarily gripped the steering wheel tighter, his foot falling harder on the gas pedal as his eyes turned back toward the road. He wouldn't let himself ask the questions tickling at the tip of his tongue. He wouldn't let his mind wander to 'what ifs'; that wasn't an option. He had to believe Aria would be there – that some wonderful twist of fate would prevent her from leaving her office before he could get there.
He let this tiny glimmer of hope settle in his mind as he reached to turn on his wipers, highway signs and exits passing him all the while.
He'd first noticed rain clouds in the distance around the Connecticut-Massachusetts state line, and it seemed he'd now reached those clouds as the first few drops hit his windshield.
Ezra had always been quite fond of rain; he took it as a respite from the chaos of life. It had a calming and creative affect on him, as evidenced by the fact that he often experienced his most inspired moments as a writer when the soft pitter-patter of water on his windows played like a symphony all around him. And driving in the rain tended to affect him similarly. Ezra had experienced some of his greatest moments of mental clarity while driving in the rain.
This, however, wasn't one of those moments.
It seemed, as if in a single instant, the first few drops of water that hit his windshield had transformed into an absolute torrent. Ezra soon found himself hunched forward, nearly hugging his steering wheel to his chest, eyes squinted in a strained attempt to make out the lines and cars in front of him. Glancing to his left, he could just barely make out the traffic heading in the opposite direction. In fact, if it hadn't been at a stand-still, he probably wouldn't have been able to make it out at all.
Ezra's heartbeat quickened as he continued passing the opposite-facing cars which, even through the flood around him, was so clearly bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic. Even before his eyes tore from the road in front of him to look at his GPS, he knew he was approaching Boston; the outbound pileup of traffic was all the proof he needed.
Just a few short minutes later, he'd turned off the highway and onto the streets of Boston, water still beating down unrelentingly all around him. He made turn after turn, his eyes dancing between his windshield and the navigational device adhered to it, as he slowly made his way through the maze of traffic in the city. On the sidewalks, people ran to escape the downpour and reach their destinations as quickly as they could, their umbrellas having long since lost their utility. Meanwhile, the cars on the street, his included, lurched along; he almost envied the pedestrians around him because at least they were moving. Almost.
After much frustration on his part, the light ahead of Ezra flipped from red to green, and he was able to turn onto a side street. It was somewhat quieter than the previous street, and, had the sky not been falling down around him, it probably would've seemed quite quaint. However, his mind didn't linger on this thought for long. Instead, his eyes glued to the buildings around him because this street was the one listed on Aria's business card.
Ezra slowed down, his heart positively pounding in his chest as he read the building numbers to his right, the side he determined his destination would be on. And then he saw it; the number that'd been swirling around his head for the last six hours.
He was here.
He came to a stop just before the large glass doors that led into the building, his eyes fixing upon them. The air around him was loud – his wipers were beating at full force as they tried but failed to combat the watery assault falling down upon them – but his mind was completely silent. For a moment, Ezra stared at the doors, as if attempting to read them, but the flood forcing its way down onto the city streets prevented him from seeing anything behind them.
A shaky breath fell from his lips as his eyes broke away from the doors to the clock on his dash.
5:40 PM.
The rain had slowed him down more than he'd thought it would.
Suddenly, Ezra forgot about parking; he didn't care if he got a ticket. And he forgot about his keys – and his umbrella too – as he opened his door, stopping only to turn on his hazard lights before he stepped into the rain and walked toward the glass doors just several yards away. He didn't care if someone took his car or that he was now drenched from head to toe. All that mattered to Ezra was getting inside that building. Any consequence would be worth it if it meant he could see her; Aria.
So, as his hand reached for the handle that held his fate, only one blissfully hopeful thought coursed through Ezra's mind.
If the rain had slowed him down, maybe it had slowed her down too.
Aria had just begun scrolling through a board on her long-forgotten Pinterest app when the sound of movement – more specifically the movement of a heavy door – registered in a distant part of her mind. She paid it no mind though, opting instead to continue scrolling, her eyes never parting from the device in her hand. She steadily tapped at her phone, absentmindedly pinning and liking images she'd probably never look at again just to pass the time until the rain let up.
But then, several moments later, another sound registered with a more present part of Aria's mind – squeaking – like that of wet rubber on tiles. Normally, she would've ignored this sound, just as she had the previous one, but something about the squeaking stood out to her; it was growing louder, as if it was approaching her. Her finger stilled over the screen of her phone as she listened intently, eyes still glued to it. Sure enough, the squeaking was getting louder still.
And then it stopped.
At the abrupt silence, Aria's eyes fell from the screen in her hand to the tiled floor in front of her. Several steps away from her were two very wet feet. Her eyes went wide at the sight of them, her lungs acting of their own volition as they stole a sharp breath.
She didn't know how she knew it was him; she just did.
"I wasn't sure if you'd still be here," he spoke softly, his voice filling Aria's ears and awakening a warmth in her chest that seemed to glow. Slowly, her eyes trailed from his feet, to his legs, up his torso, and above his shoulders until she met his beautiful, wet, smiling face for the first time in over four years.
There he was; Ezra.
Her phone slipped from her fingers onto the bench beside her as she met and matched his smile, her mouth hanging open in shock. She was speechless. She had absolutely no idea what to say to him, so she went with what she saw. "You're so wet," Aria remarked somewhat dumbly, the expression of gleeful surprise still stamped on her face.
Ezra let out a laugh at her words. Of all the first words he'd imagined Aria would have for him after all this time, those had never crossed his mind. "I am," he replied, stepping toward her to gently take one of her hands in his own, his voice dropping to a whisper, "it's kind of raining outside." The sweet, dazed smile that swept across her face at his response was enough to warm his heart.
As if to emphasize Ezra's point, just then, a crack of thunder swept through the air. The reverberating sound jolted them both and effectively shook Aria from her previous state of shock. Her eyes skipped across the room – from the heavy glass doors and the storm raging behind them, to the completely drenched man standing in front of her – as if the situation before her was only just now registering in her brain.
Suddenly, Aria was on her feet, her petite hands grasping at each of Ezra's arms just above the elbow. "Ezra," she breathed his name as she searched his beautiful blue eyes, just as confused at the sight of him as she was happy, "how did you know?" When her question received only a confused raised brow in response, Aria elaborated. "How did you know I needed you?"
Ezra's lips curved into a soft, warm smile – the adoring smile reserved for Aria alone – as his fingers lifted up to brush a bit of hair behind her ear. The truth was he hadn't known she'd needed him, but he'd certainly needed her; after all, that's what had led him to Boston and back to her. So he answered her honestly, his eyes never straying from hers. "Because I needed you too."
Aria felt the glowing warmth in her chest begin to pulse at Ezra's response. A quiet, disbelieving laugh shook her chest as she continued searching his face, still not completely convinced that he wasn't, in fact, a figment of her imagination. This couldn't be real. Ezra couldn't be there, standing right in front of her. But he was.
So many times over the past few months – and years – she'd wished he would somehow pop up, as if from dust, just like this. But never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he actually would; and certainly not at the moment she needed him most. No, this had to be a dream.
She let her eyes trace over every inch of his face in awe. His nose, his lips, his eyes; they were all the same, like a carbon copy from her memory. His hair though; it was a bit longer, like it'd been when they'd met so many years ago. And it was wet – very wet – from the rain.
Aria had always loved what happened to Ezra's hair when it got wet. Few people knew that he had naturally wavy, almost curly, hair. He normally kept it too short for his curls to be noticeable, but whenever it was wet, even at its shortest, Ezra's hair always formed into soft, loose curls; and Aria loved it. In fact, she loved it so much that she'd never seemed to be able to keep her hands out of it. When they'd been together, she'd spent many lazy Sunday afternoons on his old leather couch, her fingers twirling and fiddling with his curly wet post-shower hair, only stopping to dodge Ezra's hand whenever he'd playfully try to bat her fingers away. The memory lifted the corners of her mouth into a broad smile as her eyes continued to wash over his features.
She had never been able to pinpoint exactly why, but Ezra was always most beautiful to her when his hair was an unruly, messy mop of curls. Maybe it was because it was a side of him only she got to see; a side that only saw the light of day when they were alone together, hidden away from the world and its prying, judgmental eyes. Or maybe it was simply because curly was his natural, unadulterated state. Ezra had never needed to dress up or calm down his mess of hair to be beautiful to Aria; she'd loved the man, not the image.
Absentmindedly, her thoughts too far away to consider her own actions, Aria lifted her hand to Ezra's head, submerging her fingers in the wet mess of curls she hadn't known she'd been missing. The sensation shocked her, surprise infiltrating her expression. She didn't know what she'd been expecting; perhaps, she hadn't been expecting anything since her hands seemed to have acted of their own accord, without any interference from her brain. But, if she'd been expecting anything, it certainly wasn't this. Ezra's hair wasn't just wet – it was cold – too cold to be a figment of her imagination.
And, in an instant, Aria knew this wasn't a dream.
As reality came flooding back to her – the storm seeming to rage harder, her breathing suddenly ringing in her ears more loudly than ever – Aria's hand fell from Ezra's hair to his shoulder. Somehow, it was even wetter and colder.
She had noticed that he'd gotten wet from the storm; of course she had. But, for some reason, touching him and feeling just how wet he was – feeling how cold he was – made the situation that much more real. Aria's shock turned to concern as her eyes met his once again, her mind now fully present. "You're so wet," she said lowly, almost whispering.
Just as he had several minutes earlier, Ezra let out an amused laugh at her concerned statement. "You said that already," he smirked down at her, amazed that she could still be so short in such high heels.
"I know, but it's just—" Aria paused mid-sentence, her mouth ajar as she searched his face and her mind in a desperate attempt to turn her racing thoughts into words, but nothing new came to her. "You're so wet," she settled for her old standby, emphasizing the phrase with the futile hope that Ezra would somehow be able to pluck her thoughts from her pleading words, "and cold."
But Ezra simply chuckled in response, gently removing her wrist from his shoulder to take it in his hand. "I don't feel very cold," he returned, the corner of his mouth still raised in a playful smirk.
"Ezra, this isn't funny," Aria huffed in a way that was, quite ironically, very funny to Ezra. "We need to get you into something dry."
It had been a very long time since Aria had referred to them as a 'we,' and hearing her use the word to describe the two of them now was all it took for Ezra to drop his jesting demeanor, his smirk subduing into a crooked grin. "I have a change of clothes in the car," he offered, his hand blindly gesturing in the general direction of the lobby doors. Ezra watched as Aria's gaze diverted from his to the large glass doors behind him, through which he knew his car would be clearly visible to her. But it was only when a look of surprise graced her face that he remembered the state in which he had left the car. He turned his head toward it. There it sat, illegally parked on the side of a city street, engine still running, wipers still wiping at full force, the hazard lights blinking ceaselessly. Ezra's hand grazed the back of his neck as he turned back to Aria. "Speaking of the car—" he began, but Aria cut him off, reading his mind.
"If we don't hurry, someone's going to take off with our ride," she interjected, a smirk forming on her lips this time, "and your clothes."
Ezra didn't get the chance to think about how wonderful Aria's voice sounded when she used words like 'we' and 'our' to describe them, and he didn't get the chance to marvel at how stunning the smirk on her lips was as she said those words either. He didn't even have time to ask her if she wanted a ride in the first place. Because, before he could comprehend what was happening, she'd reached down to unfasten her strapped leather heels, thrown them and her bag into his arms, and scurried off into the storm.
No, Ezra didn't have time to think at all. Because, before he knew it, he was left alone in the lobby, arms filled to the brim, watching a beautiful, barefooted, and unencumbered Aria scamper to the safety of his car. And he hadn't been happier in years.
She was magic.
Ezra shook his head in amusement and love for this crazy woman who had stolen his heart so long ago and, turning around, collected her phone, which still sat on the bench, forgotten in the excitement of the past few minutes. As he went to toss it in her bag, he caught the time displayed on it.
5:50 PM.
He couldn't believe it hadn't even been ten minutes since he'd walked through those doors and back into Aria's life. But, then again, being with Aria tended to have that affect on him; time seemed to stand still in the most glorious way when he was in her presence. And, looking out through the glass doors ahead of him, watching her fumble with the handle of the passenger-side door as she hastily ripped it open and disappeared behind it – now just as wet and cold as he was – Ezra felt for the first time in over four years that he could see a light at the end of his very long, very dark tunnel. And her name was Aria.
He didn't know what to expect or where this impromptu journey would lead; he certainly wasn't expecting that Aria would jump back into his arms. But he knew, so long as she was leading the way, it would be great.
So Ezra followed Aria's lead. He ran.
And he didn't look back.
Endnote:
So what'd you think?
I know this story is moving slowly, but that's because I really want to capture and develop Aria and Ezra's emotions. Trust me, I get how frustrating slow progressing stories can be, but I promise I have a really nice plan for our lovebirds that I think you'll be very pleased with:)
Btw I'm a southern gal who's never driven from PA to MA, so please forgive me if I totally butchered Ezra's trip to Boston. I had to research the whole thing using Rosemont, PA (which Rosewood is based on) as a point of reference... Also, you might be thinking it's a bit strange that the rain made Ezra so cold when this is set in August, but when I visited Boston several years ago in August it was actually pretty chilly. It was only in the upper 60s, but I think we can all agree that's pretty cold in the rain;)
Please please please leave a review in the lovely little box below. I LOVE hearing your thoughts, and I meant what I said in the A/N; reviews truly do inspire me to keep writing!
Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and check back soon for updates!
