Before I jump into this chapter, there's something I need to address in regards to a particularly condescending review left on the first chapter.

I am not a historian. I am a writer. I cannot guarantee that this story will be historically accurate. Yes, I'm aware that in reality, Aria would be in the workforce and Ezra would be a solider, but that is not what my story is about. My story is about people falling in love in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and in an era where it was even more scandalous than that of our own. It's called fiction for a reason and it's not as if I'm going out to publish a novel. I'm using my poetic license. If you are a history buff and have an issue with it, do not read. It was nice of you to review, but reviews are made for kind comments, not condescending ones. You were better off keeping your thoughts to yourself.

With that being said, I'm really happy towards the response I've gotten to the story so far. One of the writers even RTed a tweet about it (huge thank you to Lyndsey). Just remember that 20 reviews gets you a chapter quicker, so please leave them! And be nice.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Ezra folded his grade book in his hands as his first period class exited the stuffy lecture hall. Perhaps it was merely his own premonitions, but the room had felt as if it grew hotter from the moment he first stepped in. The air was more pungent with a scent only students could provide. It smelled like sweat and brainpower. Despite his love for teaching, it wasn't necessarily on Ezra's top ten list of smells.

Noticing two girls milling about in the front, Ezra coughed slightly. One of them, the taller one, looked up with an expression of alarm written on her face. Whispering something to the girl still sitting at her desk, she hurried out of the room, books tucked safely in her arms.

Her cohort continued to write. Ezra had never seen anything like it. He'd only been a student teacher during his senior year of college, but not even then had he'd seen someone so concentrated on scribbling words onto a piece of paper – other than himself, of course. Most students were eager to leave the classroom. He let out another cough, wondering if that would catch her attention.

"I'm in the middle of a thought." Ezra smirked slightly. So he had got her attention. The girl continued to chirp, slamming down her pen frustrated. "And some yuck of a guy interrupts me with his hacking."

He almost laughed. The girl really had no idea who she was speaking to. But then again, Ezra couldn't blame her if she was writing. He'd had his moments of absorption into the English language where he'd blocked out all forms of vision except for what he was scrawling onto the page. Nonetheless, her sass entertained him.

Ezra's chortle caused the girl to look up, allowing him to get a good look at her. She was a doll and not just in the figurative sense. Her skin was pure and smooth looking, as if she bathed in milk and honey every night. The girl's face was chiseled to perfection, or at least that was what Ezra thought. She had an angular jaw and high cheekbones, but her exotic features and strong eyebrows didn't take from her beauty. If anything, it enhanced it. She wore very little makeup, but her lips were painted a vivid red and her hair was combed, curled, and twisted to a stylized 'do. Everything about her was fragile and breakable. But something in the defiant tone of her voice told Ezra she was anything but.

She'd been the one whose eyes he met when he first entered the lecture hall. It was those hazel doe eyes that sparkled as he spoke and made Ezra feel as if he were the best professor that resided at Hollis. The girl had been so engaged and after giving a glance at the full sheet of paper in front of her, he could see why.

Those hazel eyes widened the moment she got a load of who she sassed. "Oh my, I am so sorry, Professor Fitz. I didn't mean to snap my cap with you. I just…writing, you see. It gets me going and when I have a good thought, I don't like to be stopped." He found her rambling adorable.

"It's quite alright, Miss…Miss…" Ezra dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand. Leave it to him to forget a student's name. Especially one that was so beautiful; that made something inside of him flutter.

Get a hold of yourself, his mind whispered to him. It was wrong to even think of his student as beautiful. Despite Ezra being 23, he had morals to uphold. A gorgeous 18 year old couldn't be on his radar, especially when such thoughts could get him in trouble or fired.

"Miss Montgomery," she replied. "Aria Montgomery. I've been sitting dead smack in front of you all morning, Professor Fitz." Aria chewed a bit on the end of her pen. Ezra immediately wondered if it was a nervous habit of hers.

He nodded his head. "Right, Aria. I mean, Miss Montgomery. It's alright; I know what it's like to get wrapped up in my head."

"It's kind of like a blanket you don't want to escape from, right?"

Ezra nodded once more. She seemed so mature for a freshman. Even the tone of her voice didn't suggest that of a teenager. As far as he could tell from her confident demeanor, it appeared to Ezra that Aria was very sure of who she was. She hadn't buckled in fear of him yelling at her. Almost immediately, Ezra could feel that there was something unique about her. It drew him in towards Aria in a way that teachers weren't supposed to be drawn.

"Sometimes," he replied, perching on the edge of her desk. "Most of the time, the thoughts in my head make for a good story. Other times, not so much. They make me want to scream."

"Isn't that the beauty of thoughts though? They're uncontrollable. You can't stop whatever pops into your head. There's no filter, it's all honesty."

Chewing on the inside of his lip, Ezra nodded. She was good at debating. "I suppose so. But do you have the desire to be kept up at nights with unpleasant thoughts?"

Aria pursed her lusciously colored brims. "I'd rather have unpleasant thoughts than be brainwashed into thinking everything in the world is bright and rosy."

Ezra couldn't disagree more with her. With the all corners of the world at each other's throats, he'd rather be fooled into thinking everything was fine. He'd seen enough newsreels with death tolls and injuries to last him a lifetime. But nobody could blame him. The telegram delivered to his doorstep a month ago to state that his brother had died in battle was enough to make Ezra put on a pair of rose colored glasses.

But that wasn't information he desired to share with a student, even if was one that got him in an artistic aspect. "I guess," Ezra mumbled.

Not pleased with his answer, Aria put coveted piece of paper into a notebook and tucked it into her arms. It balanced on top of the textbook she'd received from him earlier. Ezra chewed on his lip some more. So much for creating a connection.

"Well, thanks for your perspective, Professor Fitz," Aria said, pushing up from her seat. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early."

"You as well, Miss Montgomery," Ezra replied, watching as she began to make her way from the room.

It all happened very quickly. The heel of Aria' T-strap shoe caught in a crack on the floor. She screamed, her books falling out of her hands, her body heading towards the hard floor. Ezra propelled himself off the desk, arms looping around Aria's small body just in time before she could smack against the hard tiled floor. The skin on his arms prickled as the fabric of her dress brushed against his hands. Ezra was close to her, far closer than he ever expected himself to be. He could feel her breath fanning across his face as she tried to compose herself from the fall.

"I have to go," Aria uttered, collecting her books. Within seconds, she was gone without so much as a trace. Except for that of her flowery perfume.