A/N here it is folks! I hope you guys enjoy it. I'm not sure if I like it or not. I might have to come back and change a few things. Tell me what you think!

Aria remembered what happened the morning of August 21, 2011. She could recall it with surprising clarity even years later. She even remembered her dad saying once, on a summer day a long time ago, "Maybe you'll have Aria in your class one day." That day had come. As the school bell rang and Ezra's eyes met hers, she knew that he had seen the changes in her, that he had realized that this new Aria was confident and sure of herself.

When they told this story afterwards, Ezra would say, "That was the first time I realized you weren't a little girl."

This new Aria was well-traveled, took great care in her appearance and wore make-up. This new Aria was curvy and her brown hair, now void of its bright pink highlights, reached past her elbows. This new Aria knew what she wanted and wasn't going to take no for an answer.

The first class she had with Ezra, he cleared his throat after his faux paux and introduced himself to the class and had each member of the class introduce themselves to him. He assigned an essay for homework that night, telling them to write about an experience that defined them.

Although Aria paid attention in class, her mind wandered. She had spent a lot of time alone in Iceland, and she had spent a lot of time writing and thinking, especially thinking about Ezra. She didn't remember realizing that she had come to care for him, caring for him in a way that a sister definitely doesn't care about a brother.

He ended class that day and she went on to her other classes, reconnecting with her friends and catching up on old news. After school, she spent some time at Hanna's house before heading home, and after dinner, she went over to Ezra's house.

She rang the doorbell and waited for thirty seconds for him to answer. She was just about to give up when he opened the door.

"Hi," she started softly.

"Hi," he answered back. He reluctantly opened the door wider, letting her in.

"I saw the gate," she started, sitting down on the sofa next to him. "That was nice of you."

"I thought you might like to come and go as you please," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "Unless you're too old to be using the tree house." He raised an eyebrow.

She laughed. "I don't think I'll ever be too old. I love that tree house." She sobered suddenly. "How was it, when we were away?"

"Things…changed," he finished lamely.

"I can see," stated Aria. She gestured towards the walls. "New paint job, huh?"

"Among other things," he answered.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. "How's Jackie?"

He shrugged. "We broke up over a year ago."

"Oh," she started. "I didn't know." She got up and started walking around.

"What have you been up to?" she asked, fingering some of the pictures on the shelf.

"This and that," he said cryptically.

"Hm," she answered. She picked up a picture of his grandparents before putting it down again.

He waited a moment for her to continue, but when she didn't say anything, he asked her "What are you doing here, Aria?"

"I came by so say hi." She returned to her seat next to him.

Her leg brushed his and he recoiled. "No, what are you really doing here?"

She sighed and looked at him, twisting the ring she was wearing around her finger. "So much has changed in the last year, I came to see if you had changed too."

He looked at her carefully. "I'm still the same."

She was suddenly angry. "Then was what that all about this morning?"

"What?" he asked feigning innocence.

"You know," she stopped her fidgeting and looked at him until he looked away.

"I'm not the one who's changed, Aria," he said. He looked back at her pointedly. When his expression didn't change, he let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his face before responding. "You're not the little girl who knocked on my door when she was twelve."

"I'm almost seventeen. You'll be around for my birthday this year." He realized that she was deliberately trying to misunderstand. She looked away and looked back. "You're right, I'm not that little girl who came over here to use the tree house anymore." She got up and turned to leave. "I'll see you in class tomorrow, Mr. Fitz." He winced when she called him by his title.

She had reached the front door before he put out a hand to stop her. "Don't go," he whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because," he grabbed her hand and was shocked for a moment at the electricity that bounded through him when their fingers connected. She looked at him and instinctively leaned in, he reciprocated. As soon as their lips touched, the clung to each other. Their bodies were familiar to each other, and she reached to put her arms around his neck and he reached for her waist. In the space of a few minutes, they were back on the couch, and she was straddling him. She was nibbling at his ear when he stopped her.

"No," he said, pushing her away. She plopped down on the sofa cushion next to him. "We can't do this."

"Why not?" she asked. She was leaning on her elbow and she looked seductively at him. "Why not if we want to?"

"I'm your teacher now, Aria," he shook his head. "I'm sorry." He saw that she was hurt, but when he refused to offer any other explanation, she got up slowly and walked toward the door.

She reached for the door handle before she spoke. "You're more than just my English teacher." She looked at him wistfully before she left, closing the door behind her.

He stared at the door a few minutes after he left and then let out a frustrated sigh. He went into the kitchen and poured himself scotch. Heading back into his living room he stared out the window. He could see Aria in her room. It was brightly lit and the window curtains had been swept aside. She was writing at her desk. He took another swig of his scotch and set it down on the coffee table before heading down the hallway to his study.

He knew exactly why she had come over that night, and it had nothing to do with how he was doing. When his eyes had met hers in class that day, something had passed between. It was a realization, a spark of electricity, a moment when each realized the attraction they had for the other. This new, grown-up Aria wanted to investigate, to push her boundaries. She had wanted to see if he would give in.

They avoided each other in class the next day, August 22, the only real moment of danger when Aria turned in her essay, brushing her fingers against. He took his cue from her and ignored it. He sat at his desk after class had ended, mentally preparing himself for his free period. He flipped through the essays on his desk, looking for the paper with Aria's name. When he found it, he picked it out of the pile and read it carefully.

There are many moments that define a person. Those moments become hours, those hours days, and those days years until an entire lifetime has gone by in the blink of an eye. As those moments, hours, days, hours and years pass by, we are left thinking about the choices we have made. Sometimes we regret those choices, other times we are glad we acted spontaneously. However, acting spontaneously does not always mean acting without thought just as thinking about something does not necessarily mean making that thought into an action. Impulse is part of human nature, but so is caution. That is why a defining moment in my life is one that was born of both an impulsive urge and an act of caution.

My journal records the date as September 6, 2005, only days before I turned eleven years old. I had known Mr. and Mrs. Springer my entire life; they had lived in the house next door to mine for as long as I could remember. It was a Saturday when I knocked on the door and asked to play in the tree house in their backyard. Mrs. Springer answered the door. She was warm and friendly and offered me cookies and a glass of milk. Mr. Springer was a little gruff, the sort of friendly toughness that clings to grandfathers. He showed me the tree house and said that I could use it any time I wanted. That moment was the first in a series of moments and visits and adventures at the Springer's. That moment led to other moments that have shaped me into the person I am today.

I had always wondered why Mr. and Mrs. Springer had a tree house in their backyard. I found the courage to ask them the summer of the following year. I knew that they didn't have children and people with children rarely visited them. After I asked, Mr. Springer grew quiet and Mrs. Springer dabbed tears out her eyes. Mr. Springer cleared his throat before saying it was for a little boy they loved very much that used to visit them sometimes. They looked so sad when I asked that I never asked again. I was happy enough to let Mrs. Springer feed me treats forbidden at home, and Mr. Springer to tell me stories from when he was a boy. It was Mr. Springer who encouraged me to start writing a journal. He used to say that by writing down what happened today, we have memories for all our tomorrows. Mr. Springer also encouraged me to read. He took me on my first trip to the public library. I think that moment was another defining moment.

Mr. and Mrs. Springer were killed by a drunk driver in the spring of 2007. My journal records that day as one of the saddest in my life. It was few months later that the boy they built the tree house for, their grandson, Ezra, moved into their old house. He was sad and his face was tired and full of regret. He came to get to know the grandparents he never knew. He came for them, but I think he really came for me. He was the first person to ever give me a book, and he let me read in the tree house even though his grandparents were gone. He gave me Mrs. Springer's favorite necklace for my thirteenth birthday. A part of me believes that he will never know how much that meant to me. He became a part of my family. He took me to my first concert and watched me after my father's accident. He spent a large part of my formative years making sure I was okay and watching over me.

I came back to Rosewood after spending a year in Iceland, where the sun goes down in October and does not come back up until March. I spent a lot of time thinking while I was away, isolated from the rest of the world. I thought about Alison, my secretive friend who disappeared the day after we finished ninth grade. I thought about Holden Strauss, my first boyfriend who felt more like my brother. I thought about Hanna, Emily, and Spencer, my friends who were going through trials and tribulations in their own lives. I thought about my parents and wondered if they would get divorced. Most of all, I thought about Mr. and Mrs. Springer and their grandson, Ezra Fitz. When I came back from Iceland, I came home changed. While I knew I had changed physically, most people do not realize that I changed mentally and emotionally too. I came back to Pennsylvania knowing what I wanted. Some people think that a woman receiving what she desires is a dangerous thing. I think it is a powerful symbol. Mrs. Springer taught me that a woman should be confident and comfortable with herself, Mr. Springer showed me that a woman could and should have a mind of her own, and Ezra continues to impress upon me that nothing I truly want to achieve is ever out of reach. I only have to believe in myself to make it come true.

The day I went over to Mr. and Mrs. Springer's house was a defining moment in my life. It was a defining moment but it was not the defining moment of my life. I continue to do reckless things, and even when I try to temper them with prudence, the results I receive are not always the ones that I want to achieve. Yesterday, I seemed impulsive and perhaps even a tad thoughtless when I went to pick up the pieces that Mr. and Mrs. Springer and Ezra had left for me. It was another moment in a series of moments that have composed my life. However, my actions had been carefully thought out, and I had been willing to accept the consequences. I do not want to live with regret or secrets that are too heavy to bear. Instead, I want to live all the moments that make up the days that make the years that make up my life to the fullest even if doing so goes against society's wishes and propriety. Mr. and Mrs. Springer taught me that life is too short to live otherwise.

Ezra let out a sharp breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding and set the essay down on his desk. He looked at Aria's empty desk, one row over from the windows, and pictured her sitting it. But the picture that came to mind was not one of a dutiful student and innocent young lady. He saw her as she smiled in the sunlight and in the tears she refused to shed in the darkness of the night. He saw her as the woman she had become.

He hadn't realized it before, but there was a lot he didn't know about Aria. He frowned when he realized they had never really talked, not about anything that really mattered anyway. He leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. She had made her move and the ball was now in his court.