A/N: These ideas just won't get out of my head. So, I've turned this into a three-shot. Also, if you're confused, this story was originally called Her. Why I changed the title will make sense eventually.
Enjoy, and please review!
- J

Disclaimer: I still own nothing but these words and the ideas.

Uff. You plop down on the park bench tiredly, with about as much grace as a giraffe attempting to rollerskate on ice. And you bet your legs feel just as wobbly as that giraffe's does. You roll up the sleeves on your black Lululemon Forte jacket and apply light pressure to the pulse point on your wrist, beginning to count as the second hand of your watch reaches the 12 at the top of the dial.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. The beats come in rapid succession, not surprising as you've just run five miles in just over half an hour- a new personal record. You never pegged yourself as a girl who liked to exercise, but after moving to New York and realizing that the beauty of Central Park was only a few minutes away from your dorm room at Columbia University, running didn't seem so much as a chore, rather, it was as a way for you to have momentary peace and clarity. It was one of the reasons why you decided to stay at Columbia for another three years to obtain your masters degree in English Education. Following that dream of becoming a teacher, you were.

Ninety-nine. One hundred. One hundred one. One hundred two. One hundred three. Finally the second hand completes its rotation back to the 12 at the top of the dial, and you let go of your wrist, slumping lower into your seat and leaning your head back. You take a deep breath and inhale the crisp, cool New York air and instantly feel at ease. The stress of trying to choose a topic for your thesis falls away, and you're able to finally relax.

He would've loved it here. You head snaps up so fast that you swear you might've gotten whiplash. Your eyebrows furrow, wondering why, after all this time, he managed to pop into your mind.

It wasn't as if you hadn't thought of him after you left him at that hospital, actually, you thought of him nearly every day for the better of those first two years that followed. Although you wouldn't admit it, it was one of the reasons why you decided to go to Columbia in the first place.

After you left him in New York and went back to Rosewood with Hanna, Spencer, Emily and Alison, you always thought about him. Where he was, how he was doing, who he was with- there were times when your mind couldn't even process your thoughts fast enough. You casually tried to slip him into your conversations, subtly trying to gather any information you could about his well-being from those around you.

From what you managed to learn from people, after being released from the hospital, he had unwillingly relented to living with his parents in their upstate New York mansion to recuperate. Once he finally became stronger, he filed for a transfer from Rosewood High School to one of the prestigious private prep schools near his parents' home and began to teach English Literature there. Aside from that, no one had actually heard anything else from him, save for an email to every Rosewood High School student, faculty and staff member thanking them for their concerns and ensuring them that, yes, he was doing well and healing. And that's where you stopped. You knew it wouldn't do him, or you for that matter, any good if you continued to try to search for him.

Besides, at the time, you still didn't know whether you would be able to trust him. After learning of his betrayal, you found it hard to trust not just him, but anyone. But slowly, day by day, as the years passed, you realized that everything he did wasn't to hurt you, it was to help you. To protect you, because he loved you. And it was with that that you slowly began the process of forgiving him. And yet, it was also with that that you started the process of trying to forget him.

You start letting your mind wander, thinking about how he really would have loved being there with you. How you would've loved having him there with you, jogging side by side, bantering easily about the latest book he had forced you to read, the symbolism and messages in between the lines you always failed to catch. He always was a better reader than you were, and you used to often tease him that it was due to him having years more experience than you.

You two would then make your way to a coffee shop where, over black coffee, you'd discuss your plans for that night. You would suggest your usual routine of Chinese takeout, his comfy sofa, you snuggling into him while wearing his old yellow shirt you loved so much, and an old movie flashing on the TV. You'd both fall asleep on the couch and, when you wake up in the morning, you're greeted by him, bowls of sugary cereal and Saturday morning cartoons. The perfect date.

Suddenly, you feel something fall onto your cheek. You wipe it away quickly, thinking it was a stray tear that had fallen, but then you feel another fall on your head. And another on your jacket. And another on the sidewalk in front of you. It's not until you hear people around you squealing and you feel yourself starting to get colder that you realize it's beginning to rain. And it's not just a light drizzle, it's the kind of rain that you know is the precursor to a torrential downfall. You laugh and zip your jacket up all the way, rising quickly from the bench and running to your home away from home to wait out the storm. You always did love the rain.

"Hey, Aria!"

When you enter the store, it feels as if you're home. The owner, a girl you met in an introductory business class you took when you had your first college identity crisis and was looking into other majors, greets you warmly. You two had become fast friends, and when she confided in you that she had just come into money and was finally going to achieve her dream of owning her own bookstore, you promised her you would be her first customer. You were her first customer, and from that day on, you were also her best customer.

"Hey, Sarah!" You laugh as she comes over and stretches her arms out, ready to give you a hug, and stop her before she does. "I was running in Central Park and I got caught in the rain. I know my jacket is black, so it hides it well, but I'm soaking wet right now, and I don't think you really want to hug me."

You watch as she muses over your theory, and laugh once again as she agrees. "Okay, you're right. How about a cup of coffee instead? I just bought a box of your favorite K-Cups. It's in my apartment. Throw your clothes in the dryer and grab a pair of my sweats, while you're at it," she says, waving you away and turning her attention to a new customer who has just walked in.

You listen to what she says and run up the stairs hidden at the back of the bookstore, heading up to her apartment above. You always thought it was convenient that she lived in the same building as her store, especially on those nights you got too engrossed in a book you were reading and needed somewhere to crash. After making your cup of coffee and changing into a pair of her sweats, you skip back downstairs and head over to the Best Sellers section, pulling out a novel you hadn't seen before.

You curl into your normal seat next to the fireplace, pulling a blanket over your lap and cracking open the book, the smell of new paper and black ink hitting your nose. Your eyes drift over the first page, and you're immediately hooked.

He met her in Winter, and almost immediately took her life by storm. He blew in like a blizzard, covering her, captivating her, with his flurries of beautiful white lies.
In the Spring, she was a drizzle, a light sprinkling of rain threatening to wash away all traces of his lies, threatening to expose the truth. He knew he probably shouldn't have gotten too close, he probably should have kept his distance, but there was always that dazzling rainbow that came after the rain. And he was damn near ready to shout everything from the mountains if it meant he would be able to experience even five minutes of her rainbow.
She was a summertime blaze. When she found out what he was hiding, she was unstoppable, encapsulating him in a heat wave. She made him sweat, and not in a good way. She set him on fire, ready to destroy him. It was then, and only then, that he decided maybe escaping was a good idea.
When Autumn finally rolled around, he returned, ready to make amends. But, like a cool breeze, she was gone; she came and went, disappearing into thin air. The only trace of her, the only way he knew she had really been there, was in the rustling of the leaves changing colors in the trees, ready to fall.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Sarah says, plopping down onto the ottoman in front of you.

You nod your head. "It's like poetry," you answer breathlessly. Even though you've only read the first page, you already feel a connection. A pull, telling you you need to read the rest.

"You know, the author is having a signing party here tonight. It's his last stop on his book tour. Why don't you come by? I could introduce you," she says enticingly. "Look, it stopped raining. Go home, get dressed, and come back around seven?"

Although all you want to do is go home and devour the rest of the book, something's telling you that you should listen to her.

"Okay, Miss Bossy," you say, standing up and clutching the book to you. "But I'm taking this with me!"

Sarah laughs as you walk away. "Okay, but I'm adding it to your tab!"

The smell of rain hits you as soon as you step outside, and you take a deep breath. You remember him, and how much he loved the smell of rain. You look at the book once more and can't help but think that the words you read, the words of the author Sarah promised she'd introduce you to tonight, sounded so much like him. You suddenly long to see him, to talk to him. Much more than you ever did before. Sighing, you look up at the now cloudless sky and think that hopefully, one day, your paths will cross again.