Falling For Hermie #pllfanfic

Chapter Eight

A/N: Welcome to another short and crap chapter. I know not a lot of happening with this story at the moment, but trust me, the next three chapters are all Aria's perspective, and perhaps they go into Aria telling Ezra about her pregnancy...but we don't know for sure (; wink, wink. I've already written them, so I know for a fact that they're better than this one. Oh, well. Still enjoy this chapter, with 'A' texts at the end of it.
Pls vote 4 dis chapter. I'll return the favour, as long as you ask! (: xx
Enjoy.
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Emily's POV:
"No, Em. YOU'RE the people person, not me. I'm just the one who has some commitment to swimming but mainly comes along to swimming-related things to make you look even better, if that's even possible. I'm not as talented as you," my girlfriend, Rachel, says, dashingly, through my cell-phone's speaker.
I let out a shriek of laughter as I find my way to my bed from my window seat, and collapse onto it, my cell-phone still held up to my ear.
We were just talking about how we, along with the rest of the new first-year swim team of Stanford University, have been invited, by our new swim coach at the University, to a prestigious dinner at a restaurant in, well, Stanford, that comes with an all-expenses-paid stay at a very classy motel for the whole weekend, in two weeks time. "It's a chance for you all to get to know each other before the new year academic year," Coach Rennin had written on the letter she sent us in the mail that Rachel and I both received just a few days ago. The gesture's kind of random, I mean, I haven't heard about this happening in the past, but I think it's nice. A free weekend away with my perfect girlfriend, Rachel is all I need to clear my head from everything that has happened in the past couple of days - the return (or perhaps just a one-off, prank message) of A and Spencer's outburst at the Brew this morning.
"Rachel, stop being so modest!" I laugh.
"I'm not being modest, Em! You really are the better swimmer! Don't deny it. Have you not compared our times?"
"Times aren't important. The better swimmer is defined by their technique and how hard they try - and that's sure as Hell you!"
"Come on, Emily. Whether it's about times or not, you're the better swimmer. You do have a stronger technique than I do, and you try harder than anyone I know! You even said that Coach Rennin told you in your interview at Stanford that you had the best technique she's seen out of everyone who applied for a position in first year this year!"
"Yeah, but my interview was before yours!"
"Doesn't matter, she didn't say anything like that about MY swimming! Anyway, I better go. 'My room isn't going to tidy itself' before mum and dad's friends come for tea. It's not like they're even going to be coming in here! It's tea! But whatever. I'll get in trouble if I don't. It's like, really? I'm 20 and I'm moving out to go to Uni soon. Cut me some slack. But no."
I laugh politely.
"Look, I've got to go. My shift at the theatre is soon. I better get ready. Talk to you tomorrow, Em?"
"Yeah, tomorrow. Love you!"
"Love you, too!"
I press 'end call' on my cell-phone and place it on my bed's side table.
So, you probably want a run down on the whole me-and-Rachel situation. Well, here it is;
We met on a forum thing on Stanford's website, where everyone going to the University in the new academic year got to meet others who are also going to be in that area of study for their first year, at Stanford, online. Well, Rachel and I found each other and realised that we have so much in common, so we got each other's mobile numbers. We talked for a while until we decided to meet in the flesh in Philly, because guess what; she lives there. Long story short we became very close and one thing lead to another and now we're dating. Obviously, Paige and I didn't quite work out, but what's awkward is, we'll be seeing each other every day once University starts, because she's still going to Stanford, too. That won't be weird at all!
Paige and I were going fine until about for months ago. I asked her about her future commitments to our relationship. I was just interested to see where we may be headed, and if we're on the same page (author's note: hahaha, what an unintentional pun :p). I mean, it was time to be sort of thinking about that kind of thing. We're soon to be attending University and after the course is complete, we could have been considering marriage. It sounds big, but I mean, I'm already 20. So, we sort of had a falling out over it. Paige said that she was happy with the way things were going and she wanted to take things one step at time. I was okay with that. What I wasn't okay with was when she said;
"I don't think I'm ready to settle down now. And I don't think I will be when you want me to be. I don't think I ever will be with you, Emily. I love you, but to me, we don't seem right when thinking about marriage. I'm not ready to dive into the deep end with this."
I can still hear her words, fresh in my head. I've got to admit, the pun in there was quite clever, but I was upset with what it was based around. I mean, why would she lead me on all of this time if she knows we're not going to have a future together? I know that it's too early to be thinking about a future together, like getting married, but someday, it would have been a possibility, wouldn't it? I'm ready for that kind of commitment when the time comes.
As I'm lying on my bed, just thinking, my mom appears in my bedroom doorway. Her expression is mutual, like usual! which makes it hard to judge the potential agenda because of it.
"Hi, mom. Everything okay?"
"Yes, everything's fine, Emily. I just came up here to tell you that your father's going to ring tonight, she free your schedule, please. You haven't spoken to him in almost two weeks."
"I know, mom. I don't have anything planned. It just can't be too late because I have work early tomorrow morning."
"And it won't be. It'll be about seven, okay?"
"Alright. Is that all?"
"Yes. Just wanted to make sure you didn't miss his call."
"Okay."
No sooner has my mom walked away that I get a text. I check my cellphone, and of course, it's 'A'. How exciting. More like, lame. Can this whole 'A' thing be any more repetitive?
"Hey, Em! Want to do me a favour? -A."
I dismiss the message. Of course I don't want to do 'A' a favour. There's nothing that 'A' could offer me to change my mind.
Like he or she or it can read my mind, I get another text from 'A';
"I guess I should have rephrased that. 'You have to do me a favour or your dad may not be able to come to the phone tonight'. -A."
Now I'm starting to remember why we were so concerned about 'A' in the first place. Sure, 'A' was all about secrets, but they were also about threatening to hurt our loved ones, over a secret or not. Still, I dismiss the message. There's no point getting all fussed over it. My dad's safe over in Texas, where he's stationed at the moment. 'A' can't control anything that happens to him there.
I ignore the immature attempt to scare me and carry on with my evening routine.