Chapter Three

Lunch in an overcrowded restaurant. Lunch with a nagging mother in that overcrowded restaurant. It's everywhere Alison DiLaurentis doesn't want to be right now.

She rolls her eyes as her mother continues to scold her for being late to dinner every night this week. She tries to counter argue that Jason hasn't even shown up for any of them the entire time they've been in Cape May.

Jessica DiLaurentis sighs, exasperated with her daughter. "He's in college, Ali. He's an adult now."

Alison huffs in the familiar way she does every time her mother favors her older brother. Adult, pfft! A jobless pot head whose every 'adult' t-shirt has remnants of Cheetos permanently engrained in their threads. Her silver bracelet clanks against her plate as she stabs her salad aggressively with a fork. Each tomato she imagines as Jason's smug face.

A loud laugh interrupts her thoughts and halts the tomato murder spree. Her attention drifts across the bustling restaurant from person to person. She figures out where the loud laugh had originated from and blue eyes examine the table from across the room. It's filled with an array of people her mother's age. All of whom's eyes seem to be focused on one end. She follows the eye line and finds it leads to an elderly woman and - Emily?!

Alison sits up straighter at the sight of her. She's not sure why, but feels like she needs to be perfect and on point in her presence. She continues to poke at her food in attempt to make it look like she's not blatantly gawking. Seeing Emily in this way is different. Like a newly released zoo animal in her own habitat. She watches as the brunette smiles politely at whatever her present company is discussing.

An older woman, who looks just as uptight as her own mother, rests a hand on Emily's shoulder. Her mom, she thinks, examining their similarities. Alison guesses that she's boasting to the table about how great Emily is and all her worldly accomplishments. Accomplishments that Alison has yet to learn.

All looks fine and dandy until Emily's face suddenly turns sour at something that's said.

It doesn't last long as Emily's mother seems to register her change in mood and instead goes back to laughing with her friends. The woman clearly disregarding whatever has upset her daughter. She knows that tactic well.

Alison does manage to catch the elderly woman sliding Emily over a glass of wine which gains a small smirk from Emily. She feels the need to stand up and applaud when her new friend downs it in one go.

Emily sets the glass back down and her eyes dart casually about. She glances around before she finally locks eyes with her. Alison can visibly see them warm from the previous glare she had sent her mother's way. Not expecting to be caught, Alison chokes on the lettuce she'd shoveled into her mouth and Emily chuckles at her mishap.

"Alison? Are you okay?" Her mother asks concerned.

Alison beats her chest until it finally goes begins to go down the right pipe. She chugs her glass of water and meets her mother's eyes. If she doesn't, she knows she's going to be nagged endlessly. "I'm fine."

Her mother accepts her answer and continues on with whatever story about the Hasting's she's been telling this time. She wonders how awful her mom is at thinking she's actually listening or if she just likes the sound of her own voice.

She turns back in Emily's direction, more worry on her face than what riddled her own mother's as Emily mouths, "Are you okay?"

Alison nods, pulling out her phone to shoot a quick text.

ALISON: Still alive, mermaid. No need for saving today. How's that wine?

She hears Emily snort from here and notes that this seems to be a thing she does. It's kind of adorable.

EMILY: MUCH NEEDED!

Alison glances back at Emily again. The elderly woman she's sat next to is leaning over to whisper in her ear. Emily's eyes are as wide as saucer's and she blushes so deeply that Alison's amazed she can even see it when she's that tan.

Her confusion grows when the elderly woman is now sending Alison a tiny wave. She waves back when she realizes how much this seems to be embarrassing Emily. She normally hates old people, but this one doesn't seem half bad. She hears her phone beep again and she know's exactly whom the sender is.

EMILY: My grandma say's hi and to stop stealing my attention so much.

ALISON: Tell her I'll need cookies as payment.

EMILY: She say's DEAL.

"Alison! Will you please at least pretend to be engaged in conversation?"

She clenches her eyes and let's out a deep sigh. "Sorry, mom." She honors her mother's request, but makes a note to wave goodbye to the women across the room before they exit.

Alison is overjoyed when Emily trudges up the beach clutching a tin of her promised homemade cookies. All courtesy of Grandma Fields. No cookie pun intended.

"Are you trying to fatten me up?" Alison quips, narrowing accusatory eyes.

Emily retorts, "Only so the next time you swim you'll be able to float".

"Bitch." Alison spits back amusingly, if not a hint impressed. She nearly rips the tin in half when Emily also informs her they're peanut butter and chocolate chip.

Emily recalls the joke her grandmother made when she shoved them in her hands. "These are for your date with your 'not girlfriend'. Make sure to take all the credit." Emily had rolled her eyes and reminded her to stop referring to her as such.

Emily's delighted when Alison seems to enjoy the first one. Squirming slightly at the sounds that expel from her voice. They are near criminal. "Did you make these?"

"No, my grandma did. She wanted me to bring them to my no- " Emily pauses, almost slipping on the name she reprimanded her grandmother for, "new friend."

Alison chomps into another cookie and a trickle of melted chocolate catches on the outer corner of her lip. "Can she adopt me?"

Emily watches as she doesn't even register what she's done. Alison just continues devouring it like a machine. She doesn't want to tell her, mostly for her own amusement, but decides she's not that cruel. "You got a little something." She points to the same spot on her own face and Alison's tongue curls out to the corner of her lip to find it.

"Did I get it?" It's still there and Emily can't help but giggle at all her continuous failed attempts. Her tongue lapping against the side of her mouth like a dog.

Emily decides to end her misery. "How are you missing this? It literally is right there." Before she even can register what she's doing, she's leaning forward to wipe it herself. In the absence of a proper napkin, she slides the pad of her thumb across the corner of Alison's lips. She smirks as it disappears and licks the residual chocolate off her own finger. "There. All gone."

Alison freezes mid chew and stares back at her. The look is riddled with so many emotions that Emily can't even begin to decipher. She registers how intimate the gesture was and decides she's just blown this friendship up. "Sorry."

The blonde just gulps down whatever is left in her mouth and diverts her gaze toward the ocean. She places the tin of cookies on the sand and returns its lid. Uncomfortable silence lingers until Alison decides to clear her throat, eager to change the atmosphere as soon as possible. "My brother finally decided to show his face around the house today."

Emily recalls what Alison mentioned the previous night and shifts, still uneasy. "Was it bad?"

"No, he and his idiot friends just raided the fridge because they spent all their money on beer." She gesture's to the group situated on beach chairs a fair distance behind them.

Emily turns her gaze and makes out a group of early twenty-something aged men. Laughing and passing around what seems like a joint on cheap beach chairs. She hadn't even realized they were there to begin with. "You better hide those cookies before they figure out you're hoarding them."

"I will die for these cookies." Alison announces proudly, re-opening them. They're held so close to her own body, the Hulk couldn't rip them from her if he tried. "They ate half of my food already. These cookies are off limits."

Emily let's out the breath she was holding, thankful the previous awkwardness has dissipated. "Can I at least have one?"

"You said your grandma made these for me. I need to make these last 'til Labor Day!"

"What kind of friend doesn't share? Do I need to remind you that I did save your life and all…"

"Fine!" Alison relents and hold's the package out for her to grab one of her own. She pulls back teasingly on Emily's first reach for the sweets and again on the second.

"Ali! Come on!" Emily crosses her arms across her chest. "I'm not reaching again."

"I promise I won't move it this time." Her tone is mischievous and she knows its a lie.

However, Emily anticipates she would pull this stunt again and lunges forward a bit too much. The move sends half of them flying in the air and her body throws Alison back onto the sand.

Alison's mouth is agape in horror and scolds the woman who landed atop her. "Emily!"

Emily places her hands on each side of Alison's head to prop herself back up. Hands dig into the coarse sand and she just snickers. "That was your own fault."

"Was not! You're an animal."

"Don't be so dramatic, cookie monster."

Alison's looking at her like she just shot her puppy and gives Emily a lighthearted push toward the side. "An evil cookie hungry animal."

Emily rolls over next to her chuckling, pulling out a cookie she lands on from under her back. It's littered in sand and she lifts it straight to Alison's face. "Open up!"

"Gross!" Alison swats Emily's hand away and it joins the rest that have littered the beach. She sits up and shakes her hair free of sand. "You know, we really should bring something to sit on next time. Like normal civilized people."

Emily follows suit, wiping excess sand that clings to her forearms. "I'd say we're far from normal."

"Speak for yourself."

If you only knew. She thinks as the burnt sky begins crawling into darkness. She swears these sunset's go by faster each time. "I'm not the one who was chocking on a salad today."

"Say's the girl who was sneaking wine." Alison remembers with a grin.

Emily scoffs. "You would too if you had to hear that conversation."

"It couldn't have been as bad as mine. My mother kept drudging on and on about the awful quiche Mrs. Hastings makes at their annual 'what-ever chair' this week meeting." She clears her throat in preparation to imitate her mother's voice. "Why Alison, they were positively dreadful. Did you hear that some waiter at the club had to take Veronica Hasting's home? A right drunk she is. I don't know how Peter puts up with it!"

Alison rolls her eye's to herself. "The way she goes on and on, you'd think she was secretly in love with her husband half the time."

Emily's silent and just smiles politely.

"What's wrong?"

"Just thinking."

"Did your mom say something horrible today? Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's complicated."

Alison nudges her shoulder, offering a smirk to ease whatever hesitation the brunette has. "Come on. I can keep a secret."

Emily mimics her earlier tight lipped smile. "Maybe some other time."

Alison's frowning now and Emily feels like she just shoved herself so far back in the closet. She wants to tell her, but she just can't. It aches deep in her core like it has all of her adolescent life.

Alison grabs one of the cookie's that's survived and holds it out for Emily to take. "A cookie for your thoughts?"

"Definitely."