Isabel Rivers never really had a safe place to land. That was before she met queen bee Alison DiLaurentis. She was Ali's favorite. They also had four other friends. It was the perfect group.
Right until Ali went missing one summer.
And turned up...
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"If we're too quiet, 'A' will get bored and stir the pot." -Spencer Hastings
"So," Jason asked. They were in his car, and he was supposed to drop her off at 'home.' "Where exactly do you live?"
"Um," Isabel faltered. She couldn't tell him, because if she did, there was no way he'd let her stay there. To be honest, being independent and living by herself was better than the alternative. "Actually, could I crash at yours tonight? My home situation isn't... the best."
"Isa, are you okay?" he frowned, glancing at her worriedly.
"Oh, no, no, not like that, um," Isabel stammered. "I meant more like... I don't have a home situation. Or an actual home."
"Wait, you don't have a home?!" Jason exclaimed.
"No, not really," she muttered. They were silent for a moment as she refused to meet his eyes.
"Don't you have foster parents?" he finally sighed.
"My foster mom couldn't care less about me," Isabel scoffed. Quinn was despicable, but she'd taught Isabel how to be independent.
"Then... where do you live?" Jason said slowly.
"A motel room," Isabel replied quietly.
"A motelroom?!" he repeated. "Jesus, Isa, why didn't you ever tell me this?"
"I-I don't know. I guess I just... I didn't want to worry you," she shrugged.
"Worry me?" Jason huffed. "Look, if you want, you could stay with me. It's no problem, really."
"I couldn't do that to you," Isabel replied hesitantly. She couldn't live with him every day, knowing that he did it out of 'friendly concern.'
"Yes, you can," he insisted. "Just say yes."
"I'm sorry, I just can't!" She scoffed. Then, she finally looked over at him and saw the pleading look in his eyes. Not pitying. Pleading. She sighed, "Okay, fine. But just for one night."
"One night? It's a big house or a tiny motel room. It's your choice."
"Yeah, well, I never got to make that choice. It was always 'these are your parents, Isabel. You either like them or you don't.' And when I like them, they move away. And when I don't, they leave me on the side of the road. So, no. Not everyone is rich like you," Isabel snapped. When she realized what she had said, she brought a hand to her mouth, horrified. "Did I just say that? I am so sorry."
