A/N This part has changed a lot, but I think it makes much more sense now.

Reviews=updates :)

"Spencer Hastings?" called Ezra, looking down at this attendance sheet.

"Here," she called from the corner of the front row.

"Noel Khan?"

"Present and accounted for," he called from the back.

"Hanna Marin?"

"Right here, Mr. Fitz," said Hanna in the second row.

"Emily Fields?"

"Over here," she replied by the windows.

"Tyler Sperling?"

"Present," he said glumly from the middle of the classroom.

"Holden Strauss?"

"Here," he said from the third row, holding up his hand.

"Jenna Marshall?"

"Right in front of you, Mr. Fitz," she smirked from the first row.

"Mona Vanderwaal?"

"Here, Mr. Fritz," called Mona. The class laughed in response, and Ezra called on a few more people from his roll when he noticed an unexpected name handwritten at the bottom of the computer-generated page. He hadn't seen that person in his classroom at all.

"Aria Montgomery?" he called tentatively.

"Here," she replied clearly from the seat next to Emily, one row over from the windows. Ezra looked up from the sheet and saw her. He stared.

This was not the Aria he remembered. Her pink highlights were gone, and her brown hair had become softer and longer. She had filled out into a womanly figure, and he couldn't help but notice that she was curvy in all the right places. Her lips were full and her hazel eyes seemed larger. He noticed something shining poking out from the top of her ear. She was wearing a low-cut pink tank top and a cheetah-print sweater with her jeans. She was wearing make-up. And he saw that she stared straight back at him.

He cleared his throat. "Welcome back, everybody. I'm Mr. Fitz, your new English teacher. This year, we're going to discuss British fiction." He went on like that for half an hour longer, trying not to stare at Aria as he did so. She had certainly grown up during her time away. She didn't look timid anymore, or afraid. She looked like someone who wouldn't take no for an answer. "Your first homework assignment," he finished as the bell was about to ring "is to write about an experience that defined you. I know I've had most of you in class before, but for those of you who I haven't, this is a chance to show me what you can do." The bell rang, and Ezra noticed she left his classroom without saying good-bye.

"What was it like?" asked Hanna eagerly as her friends gathered around the lunch table with Aria.

"Iceland?" Aria shivered. "Cold. How was everyone here? What did I miss?"

Spencer and Emily exchanged looks. "We'll tell you about it later. So how was Italy?" asked Emily. They spent the hour talking and giggling. For a short time, Aria felt as if she hadn't been away at all.

After school, Aria rang the doorbell, tapping her heels nervously in anticipation.

"Ezra," she cried out happily when she opened the door, immediately giving him a big hug.

"Aria," he said in surprise, hugging her back softly before pushing you away.

"Happy to see me?" she asked with a smile. "Are you going to let me in?" She walked in without waiting for his response. "Oh," she breathed. "It looks so beautiful in here. You did a nice job." The living room had been painted a bold maroon color and complimented the dark furniture nicely. The furniture had been arranged, so that is was facing the fireplace, and Aria noticed that a new painting hung over the mantle. It looked something similar to a print she had seen of a Manet.

"Thank you," managed Ezra as she plopped herself onto the new loveseat to test it.

"Do you have time to talk right now?"asked Aria hopefully. "I didn't get to see you yesterday when you went to visit Mom and Dad."

"You saw me this morning," he said pointedly before he could help himself. "Sorry," he sighed, sitting across from her. "I didn't expect you to be in there."

Aria shrugged. "You are the only person at Rosewood High who teaches twelfth-grade English, and I am in twelfth-grade. It was bound to happen." She kicked of her shoes, heels Ezra noted, and tucked her feet under her.

"I guess I could of that of it that way."

"But it was more than that," guessed Aria. "You were surprised by how I looked too," she prodded.

"You certainly have changed," he agreed.

She shook her hair. "I got rid of the pink about eight months ago." She touched her ear. "I surprised my parents with this the month before we left Iceland. And this," she continued, raising the bottom of her shirt to expose her belly, "was my seventeenth birthday present."

Ezra's mouth hung open slightly at the sight of her belly ring. "I, um," he cleared his throat. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Neither were my friends," said Aria as she lowered down her shirt. "Spencer was about to pass out."

Ezra found a thread of conversation he could hold onto and took it. "Have your friends told you about some of the changes in their own lives?"

Aria sobered. "Hanna told me she was dating this guy, Caleb, I think his name is. Spencer told me about Jason and her boyfriend, Toby. And Emily explained Paige to me." She shook her head. "I'm happy for Emily, I really am. I just didn't expect her to announce she was gay."

"She had a hard time with it," said Ezra. "It was a difficult year for her."

"How was it, when we were away?"

"Things…changed," he finished lamely.

"I read your book," she offered. "I thought it was amazing. I especially loved the ending."

"What did you think of the Ian character?"

"I felt sorry for him. He witnessed so much tragedy as a child."

"I'm glad you liked it," finished Ezra.

"I heard it was on the New York Times Bestseller list for seven weeks straight."

"It makes me kind of glad it was published under a pseudonym. I might have to leave Rosewood High because of it, and I love my teaching job."

"You really like it that much?" asked Aria curiously.

"Most of the time," admitted Ezra.

"And the other times?"

"The other times," he ground out. "I find myself wishing for things I can't have."

Aria looked at him peculiarly at that last statement. "You haven't changed at all."

"Tell me about Iceland and Italy."

Aria spent a few minutes telling him bits and pieces of her year abroad before she felt she had to leave. She said good-bye to him, but later that evening, she thought about that last moment before she had left his house, when they both reached for the doorknob at the same time. There had been a spark of…something. She couldn't name it yet, but she would, in time.

The next morning, Ezra prepared himself for the fact that Aria would be in his first period class. But when he saw what she looked just as beautiful as she did yesterday, the feeling in the pit of his stomach hardened. And the first time she called him Mr. Fitz, it felt like someone had punched it. When she handed in her essay, her fingers brushed his, and he shuddered. He didn't notice that she too shivered in response.

When he read Aria's essay that night, he began to view the girl next door in a different light. And he wasn't sure that was a good thing.

Before Ezra realized it, and entire week had passed, and his life had fallen into a routine again. He noticed that Aria didn't come over nearly as much as before she went away, and Ezra thought she was out with her friends, that she had constructed a different kind of life for herself.

He went over to the Montgomerys for the first Wednesday dinner in over a year. It was the end of August, and the heat was sweltering. He found himself in shorts and a t-shirt as soon as he got home from work. He stayed in the cool air-conditioning of his house until it was time for dinner, the short walk next door causing him to break a sweat.

Mike answered the door, the look on his face indicating that the heat was making him miserable too. He greeted Ella and Byron, and they all sat down at the dinner table while Ella called to Aria that dinner was ready. Aria walked down the stairs in short shorts and a skin-tight tank top. He thought his mouth was about to drop, but he controlled himself, and managed to speak to her politely during dinner. If he ignored the fact that Aria seemed different, he could pretend that it was two years ago and nothing had changed. However, the fact that he helped himself to thirds of Ella's ravioli was proof that he hadn't eaten a home cooked meal in a long time.

Ezra joined Ella and Byron in the living room, where they had their first real conversation in a long time. They talked about his book and what life had been like in Iceland. Ella mentioned the art museums in Florence and her long-lost Italian cousins. Byron discussed his research and the paper he was writing. Ezra laughed and smiled in all the right places and asked all the right questions. He thought everything was going well until Byron brought up the very last subject he wanted to discuss.

"I had never really thought about it before," began Byron cautiously. "But when Aria came home from school last week, we realized that you were going to be her teacher."

"We were wondering if that was going to make you uncomfortable," interjected Ella. "You and Aria have always been close and I know that it can be hard sometimes when those kinds of roles have to change."

"Oh, I don't think it's going to be a problem," said Ezra. "Besides, no else at Rosewood High teaches twelfth grade English," he joked. Ella smiled slightly. "Aria and Mike are always welcome to come over. I've always thought of us as being like family."

The response satisfied Byron for the moment although Ezra thought he had his suspicions about something. He pushed the thought away.

Ezra almost regretted what he had told Byron when Aria knocked on his door late Saturday morning with a towel in one hand and a bag with clothes in the other.

"I was the last one to wake up this morning, and the water got shut off. Apparently the water company didn't understand that we were at home this month too. It'll be turned back on by tonight, but everyone else was able to get a shower this morning but me. Can I borrow yours?"

"You want to borrow my shower?" asked Ezra incredulously.

"Um, yes?" asked Aria hopefully.

Ezra scratched his head. "Okay, sure. Do I need to show you where the guest bathroom is?"

Aria giggled. "I've spent the night here before, remember?" She ran up the stairs without waiting for a response, and a few minutes later, Ezra heard the water turn on. He tried to read in his living room while she showered, unsure of what he was supposed to do in a situation like this. In the end, Aria answered the question for him.

"Ezra?" she squeaked from the top of the stairs.

He looked up. She was wrapped only in her towel. "Yes?" he answered his voice low.

"Did I leave my bag down there?"

He surveyed the room quickly and spotted it next to the stairs. "It's at the bottom of the stairs."

"Can you bring it up to me, please?" she asked.

"Sure," he grunted. She disappeared back into the bathroom as he took the bag upstairs. He knocked on the door and she poked her head out, reaching for the bag with her bare arm. "Thanks," she smiled. He sighed. This was going to be a long year.

Aria watched as Ezra discussed James Joyce with the class. She wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying, but she was paying attention to him instead. She watched as he leaned against his desk and debated the finer points of The Dead with Spencer. She let herself daydream and think about what had happened earlier that morning.

She had woken up early that morning and was writing at her desk when she took a moment to look out her window. Ezra had just woken up and was getting coffee from the kitchen. She noticed he was wearing sleep pants—and no shirt. She had never seen him without a shirt before. She hadn't realized how well-muscled he was or how toned.

"Aria?"

Aria jumped up in her desk, startled. "Yes, Mr. Fitz?" she asked uneasily.

"Did you have something you wanted to share with the class? About The Dubliners?"

"Not particularly. No." Ezra continued the rest of class, but Aria couldn't help but notice the way he seemed to look at her.

Two days later, Aria was walking home from the old theater on Main Street when rain hit. She found safety under an awning for a few minutes, but when the rain seemed to be getting harder instead of letting up, she decided to continue with her walk home. She had no jacket or umbrella and she was dripping and miserable two minutes into her continued walk. She was relieved when a familiar silver Camry pulled up and stopped ten feet in front of her. She jumped into the passenger's seat silently and immediately became aware of the tension between the two of them. He said nothing, so neither did she, but she noticed that his hand was only millimeters from hers. She didn't notice where he was going until he parked in an alley.

As soon as he had stopped, Ezra looked at her with searing intensity and Aria stared back at him. Within the space of several seconds, their lips came together furiously, intensely, passionately. They held onto to each other as if by their closeness they were giving each other life. Aria wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, letting out their pent up desires and frustrations. She didn't care, and she suspected that he didn't either. It seemed like hours later although it must have only been a few minutes when he pulled into his driveway. They looked at each other before exiting the car. No words were needed for the message they shared.

Aria Montgomery

Mr. Fitz

British Fiction

August 21, 2011

Defining Moments

I remember the moment my neighbor moved next door. It was the summer of 2007. It was a summer of loss and of pain, impulse and duty, of mourning and healing. I believe that life is made of fleeting moments, and those moments make up hours, and those hours make up the days that make up the years of our lives. There were many moments that summer of 2007 that were definitive. There have been many moments since then that have been noteworthy. But I know without a doubt that I would not be the person I am now without that summer or the man who moved next door.

Two days after he moved in, I snuck over there. I really did not want to meet him. I thought he was going to take the place of people who were very dear to me. I offered him a book, one that really belonged to him because it had belonged to the people who lived in the house before him. He let me break down and cry, comforting me as I sobbed into his shirt. He let me keep the book, and offered me anything else I might want. He was not there to take someone else's place. He was there to be someone else in my life, to offer me comfort and security when I needed it. He not only taught me the value of mourning but also the importance of healing, of mending the places in myself that gushed blood quietly, the places I did not know could bleed.

I am not sure this man knows how much he meant to me or how much he encouraged me. I hope he knows now. Stories do not begin and end simultaneously or abruptly. There is always another beginning and another ending. Lives flow into one another silently and quietly, without notice, the way a stream flows into a river. They touch each other and fill each other up.

The man moved next door because he lost someone too, family. He never talks about it, but the tree house in the backyard was built for him, I think, for boyhood days of adventure and happy memories. But he is not a boy anymore, and my days of girlhood are in their twilight. It is another beginning and another ending. Other moments that make up our lives.