Escape (Ezria)

4. Guilty

My hand was shaking as I handed out this week's assignment to Ezra, trying to hide my red cheeks. He gently touched my hand as he took the paper from me. My heart jumped, flashes of the night before went through my head. His hands touching me, my thighs, my waist.. I quickly moved on to the other students. 'Make sure to hand it in next week' I said, walking back to my desk. 'You can spend the next 30 minutes starting with your assignments, I'll be here to answer any questions you might have' I stated. And the patients got their pens out of their pockets and started writing. They were supposed to write a story just containing letters from one character to another. I hadn't even sat down at my desk when Ezra came hobbling over to me. I widened my eyes and gazed at him, hoping he would notice what I was trying to say but he ignored it and stood by my desk. 'Miss Montgomery I was hoping you could take a look at this' he said, as he shoved a piece of paper on my desk. 'sure Ezra,' I said. 'You can pick it up at the end of class' I told him. He smiled. I smiled back, I didn't want him to leave just yet. I didn't want be so far away from him. 'Do you want me to use my red pen on it, or do you just want me to read it?' I asked. He leaned towards me and looked me in the eye, I was trying my best to keep it professional. He nodded, 'red pen please, I'd love to get feedback from someone as good as you' he whispered the last part. My face turned bright red. We both knew he wasn't talking about my writing. He quickly turned around and walked away. I looked carefully around the classroom to see if anyone had picked up on our attraction to each other, because I felt it so vividly. But nobody seemed to notice. Everyone was busy with themselves, like people do. People often think they are the only one who really matters, so they easily forget about others. Except when someone has done something scandalous of course, then the whole world becomes about that person. And in Rosewood, people don't forget. I picked up Ezra's story from my desk and started reading it. It was fairly good, what am I saying? It was extremely good! I was captivated by the story until halfway, when an email from my publisher - my mom - popped up onto my phone screen.

'Aria, we need brand new work from you, the times won't wait forever, we need it TODAY' it said. My heart fell into my stomach, it ached as I realized I hadn't written since I got back to Rosewood. The only thing I'd written was the beginning of a lie. I looked at Ezra's short story, it's good, but not great, I could send it.. they wouldn't publish it anyway.. but it's better than anything I've written lately. Before I could count to ten I already photographed the story and sent it to my mom. After that, I wanted to plant my fist onto my own face, hard. What did I do..!'stupid'I whispered to myself as I chewed my red pen.

The nurse waved at me from across the room, it meant time was up. My heart was beating fast when Ezra approached me, would he know? Did he see that I took the picture? The guilt was eating at me and it felt like everybody knew how guilty it was. Like my forehead was a big sign that read GUILTY. I looked up at Ezra, smiling at him. He smiled like an idiot. I couldn't lead him on like this.. it would never work out. We couldn't grab coffee together or go out to dinner. He was a mental patient! Do you hear yourself Aria, a mental patient! He wouldn't be here if it wasn't necessary, he needed to cope with his own stuff before being able to be in a relationship. He needed to love himself first, before he could love me. Which made me think, did I really love me? Did I like the person I'd become since I had gotten back here? Or would I go back if I could? Ezra looked at me, 'and, what did you think?' he asked. 'I think.. Ezra, that you have potential' I said. His eyes lit up. 'really?!' he squeaked like a 5 year old boy going to Disneyland for the first time. I nodded. 'yes, really' I assured him. He blushed and smiled his dorky smile. He calmed himself and tried to man up. 'thank you' he said. He then leaned towards me and whispered; 'Are you free tonight?'