Forbidden love

Chapter 2: Things are just a little bit complicated

Ezra POV
I see a note laid on the coffee table with Aria's familiar writing on it. I scan over it and heave a breath of frustration; all I want is for Aria to be happy, I love her and happiness is the least I can try to give her after everything she's experienced over the past couple of years with Alison.
However, I know her happiness relies on us both telling her parents about our relationship...but it's not that simple; I'm only now getting on with Byron through working at Hollis with him and I can't bear to betray Ella like that, after she was the most welcoming of my colleagues when I worked at Rosewood High school. Every road leads to a dark and frightening result and none will benefit me or Aria.
I place the note back down, get dressed into a t.shirt and jeans and grab a beer to settle my nerves. 

Aria POV:
Walking up the path to my house has never made me feel so anxious and my stomach has never done this many somersaults at once. Going up the steps to the front porch, I can hear my mom's voice straining as she shouts at Mike to get up off of the couch and do his homework. I smile a little in amusement, open the door and think to myself that this can't go as badly as I'm expecting it to. I take a deep breath.
"Mom? Dad?" I call, my voice cracking slightly.
Footsteps rush around the corner from the kitchen, where the aromas of mom's homemade lasagna have been diffused into the living room.
"Where have you been?!" Mom's face is livid and her eyes are glassy with tears; I felt as though I should be cowering with shame.
"I was at Spencer's." Is all I manage to muster.
"Nice try, mom and dad went round there last night Aria when you didn't come home." Mike pitches in.
"Mike, I appreciate you got up off the sofa, but please stay out of this. Aria only needs two parents right now, not a third." Mom points out.
After smirking like he actually accomplished something, Mike turned on his heel and ran straight upstairs, probably with a good spot outside his bedroom door to listen in on the upcoming lecture.
"Does it really matter where I was?" I ask, clearly irritated.
"Of course it matters! Why didn't you call? Why didn't you text us? Leave a note? We had nothing!" My dad hardly ever gets this angry but he's on the verge of losing it. "The point is, you can't keep taking off when things go badly for you, you fail to realise your actions reflect badly on us as parents and cause a lot of problems for us all, not just you. So what is it? Is it a boy? Alcohol?"
I don't say anything, I just stand there like I'm on trial, with the irritation of my dad's irony toward "taking off when things go badly" starting to take over the only part of my brain that's thinking straight and calmly towards all of this.
"Hmph silent treatment." My dad states.
Mom gestures impatiently for me to say something, although a little too over-enthusiastically because she nearly hits my dad in the face with her hands and I have to try exceptionally hard to stifle a laugh; my dad catches me and shoots me a serious look. I roll my eyes subtly so my dad doesn't see, but I'm getting increasingly frustrated.
"Okay, I'm sorry I didn't come home last night." I start, stuttering "I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm tired of keeping secrets for people who obviously don't think of the consequences for me and I'm sick and tired of being treated unfairly. So, please, stop punishing me for every bad thing that happens in my life that you know has nothing to do with me!" As soon as I vent my thoughts, I know it was a big mistake.
"What's that supposed to mean?" My dad asks in shock- I think he knows the majority of that was directed at him- with an angry tone to his voice.
"Well it's no secret that when Mike got into trouble with the police for stealing, you both brushed it under the carpet without another mention of it" I feel my face flushing with burning rage. "Oh, because we wouldn't want the Montgomery name tarnished by the 'perfect' son would we? But it's okay for the daughter if everyone knows her mistakes, because she's made plenty of them that have resulted in her sat at the cop station. I'm no saint, but stop treating me like I'm as bad as A!"
"Me and your mother are sick of this, Aria!" My dad says, raising his voice. 
"Sick of what, dad? Me?" I raise my eyebrows at them but neither of them answer; my dad shakes his head in disbelief at my accusation and looks away and my mom presses her palms to her forehead "No, you don't have to answer that, I know, you don't want forgive the mistake of this family."
I just shake my head in disgust and, without another word from them, I storm upstairs; purposely slamming my bedroom door as loud as possible as a statement, tears spill uncontrollably from my eyes as I lean against my door and slide towards the floor. I let my head fall into my hands.
Thinking back, I thought they would try the Good-cop Bad-Cop move but mom's disappointment and dad's ill-temper started to seep through any attempt at mending this they had left within them.
The only thing I caught a glimpse of was the mixture of hurt and anger on my parents' faces; I think I just made things worse.