Hey Guys! This is my first fanfic, so please read and review and tell me what you think of the story and my writing! Thanks!

xoxo

-P

Disclaimer- I do not own Aria, Ezra, or Pretty Little Liars, or any of the places mentioned. I only own Louisa, and the random pen names Arriana Hempshire and Michael Fitzgerald.

Aria's POV

Aria Montgomery wasn't one for crying over boys or broken hearts. Ever since she was a teenager, she was never the one being comforted by large tubs of Ben and Jerry's brought over by her friends, or soap opera reruns. Aria Montgomery was a fixer. She always new exactly how to deal with Mike when her parents almost split, or when Hanna had Caleb issues, or when Emily was dealing with Mya being sent away. Now, Aria sat lifeless on a wobbly stool at a local café on 22nd street, looking out into the busy city of New York, wondering what to do with herself, because Aria was the one person Aria couldn't fix.

She tried writing, her normal heartbreak medicine, but gave up after realizing she could never put her feelings onto that page. Aria stared at the almost empty page, knowing that the draft of her second novel was due to her publisher in two weeks, and she had nothing. She shifted her position upright, and slid her notebook aside.

Aria listened intently to the rain lightly tapping the window behind her and sliding down to the earth below, jealous of the simplicity of a raindrops life. She always loved rainy days, and the gloomy feeling it brought to everyone around her. It made her feel like she didn't stand out, as sadness had overtaken her every day for the past seven years. From the day she ended it with the man she loved, and made the biggest mistake of her life. Drumming her fingers on the table, a nervous habit she realized was happening a lot lately, Aria thought of the life he was probably living now.

He probably has a trophy wife, tall and blonde and tan. Three things Aria was not, someone who she could never even compete with. He probably has a great, steady, well paying job. Aria was just an aspiring author, under the name Arriana Hempshire, who, although had a first novel show up on the New York Times best seller, now had a major block. He probably has beautiful kids. Aria could see it in her mind, two small, dark-haired, blue-eyed children, giggling in their fathers arms. Aria had only managed to obtain three boyfriends in the past seven years, with only one of them lasting more than six months. And then the worst thought, that Aria didn't want to believe, but knew was true; he probably hasn't even thought of her once.

Aria felt useless and broken. The man she spent the last half of a decade thinking about probably doesn't even remember her last name.

Ezra's POV

Ezra Fitz, on the other hand, was not a fixer at all. He was more of a sit-and-mourn kind of man. And there he sat, looking out the fogged up window of a local bar on 22nd street, doing what he did best. Examining people passing on the busy streets of New York, Ezra slouched in his chair, trying to get ideas for his novel. He had been writing since he left Rosewood, and managed to get a book on the New York Times best sellers list, under the name Michael Fitzgerald, but just wasn't happy. Don't think he wasn't proud of his work, because he definitely was, he just felt like his life revolved around work all the time. Something was missing for him. That something was a young woman, named Aria.

Despite reality pushing him to move on, Ezra couldn't make himself take that step. He refused to try to forget her, knowing in his heart it was unfair to give up. He knew she was living in New York, and everyday he roamed the streets in hope of finding her. Ezra Fitz was a determined man.

He glanced out the frosty, rain-splattered window of the old bar, across the street to a tiny café. Examining the shop, he saw a woman, slouching on the stool, staring out, almost in the exact position Ezra himself was in. Ezra could tell this woman was beautiful, despite the fact he couldn't completely see her face because of the foggy glass and dark purple writing on the window before her, advertising the café. The way her long, brown hair curled around her face. The way her sundress hung loosely on her petite frame. He wondered what her story was. Ezra noticed the woman shifted, grabbing something from the table she was at, and headed out the door.

He tried to catch a glimpse of the mystery woman's face as she walked out into the busy streets, but a large truck soon blocked his view, and by the time it passed she was already around the corner.

Aria's POV

Everyday for the last year, Aria came to the old bookstore on the corner of 7th street. Reading was her second passion, just after writing. She loved the infinite amount of stories surrounding her, the ability to be devoured in a world other than her own. A world that sometimes held more opportunities, and more happiness.

"Hello Aria, it's nice to see you again!" the friendly store clerk Louisa, who she'd grown to know very well, greeted her.

Aria purchased a vanilla latte from the small cart in the corner of the bookstore, and made her way upstairs. Hardly ever did Aria see anyone in the upper level of the bookstore, for it housed very old or less popular books among the cities readers. Aria, being the sore thumb she was, loved the upper floor.

She made her way over to a torn, leather chair, in a secluded section of the shop, and picked up the same tattered copy of To Kill a Mocking Bird she had been reading for the past couple of months. Aria didn't care how many times she had read the story, it was still her favorite. Aria slumped down in the chair, settling into its familiar imprint, and after setting her coffee down on the table beside her, entered her own secret world. Her escape.

Aria always found herself writing notes in the margins, or underlining things. She liked to continue her thoughts onto the page in her loopy cursive, so she could go back to them later. She knew that no one would mind, because she doubted anyone had picked up this book in years. The only person she ever saw on this floor was a dark haired man, twice, whose face escaped her because he always seemed to be going down the stairs just as she took the opposite staircase up.

Ezra's POV.

After another drink, or two, Ezra made his was out of the bar, getting shot in the head with a few heavy drops of rain dripping from the balcony above. He made his was down to 7th street, into the bookstore on the corner, getting drenched in the process. Just as he entered, he passed a small dark haired woman leaving, unable to see her face because of the umbrella she was struggling to hold on to. He had swore he had heard the faint sound of Aria's name and goodbye being arranged in a sentence, but pushed the thought away, knowing it was all in his head.

"Good morning Ezra! How are you?" the young bookstore clerk Louisa said a little too eagerly. She had always had a crush on Ezra, which he was aware of, and coming in the shop everyday day didn't exactly disappoint her. "Good, thanks Louisa" he said, lacking the enthusiasm she had, and continued straight up the stairs. Ezra found his was over to the leather chair he came to everyday, and pulled To Kill a Mocking Bird, his favorite book, from the shelf next to it. As he sat down, noticing the chair was warm, and had a familiar smell of a vanilla latte and perfume. He brushed it off, and cracked open the novel, eager to enter his own world.

As he continued to read, he noticed more and more notes scribbled on the margins in a loopy cursive. It was a girl, for sure. Although one of the notes caught his eye:

It was a trade, Mr. Yule would of killed these kids, Boo Radely saved them. Atticus was still feeling guilty over Tom Robinson, so he offered Jem to take Boo's place. Almost like a sacrifice.

This was something Ezra did not agree with. Surprised by his unusually spontaneous and daring actions, (for Ezra) he quickly grabbed his black pen lying in his shirt pocket, and in his own sloppy hand writing, wrote underneath her note:

Too bad Jem was unconscious; do you think he might have had a different opinion?

Ezra continued to reply to her unintended assumptions, feeling good about himself for stating his opinion. It brought him back a rush of unwanted memories though. Memories of Aria. As they sat in his apartment, cross legged on the floor, facing each other, they discussed, (fought) over their drastically different views of their favorite book. But this constant bickering did not make him love her any less. It made him love her more. He loved listening to her sides and views of the story, ones he hadn't even thought of. He loved how she could dig deeper into the novel than anyone he had ever witnessed. He loved her constantly running mind that spat out her arguments like an erupting volcano. Because in the end, nothing really mattered when talking about the book. Nothing changed their feelings about each other.

Ezra decided to leave, after reading and writing well over an hour. This time though, he was excited, that maybe when he came back, there would be more little loopy cursive in the margins, and he was correct, though he never expected who exactly was the writer.

Aria's POV

The following day, Aria followed her same daily routine, she took a cab to the café, and after walked to the book store, and up the stairs to her reading nook. But this time, when Aria sat down and opened her favorite novel, there was a very familiar handwriting on the pages.

Thanks for reading guys! I hoped you enjoyed it! PLEASE REVIEW! I want to know how people like my writing and story so far, and I'll update soon if people like it! Thanks!

xoxo

-P