Pretty Little Liars #13: Crushed

Ryan waved her hand dismissively. “It was your vision.” She gazed at Aria’s outfit, from her ringlets to her simple-but-elegant vintage black dress to the high velvet shoes she’d bought in France years ago for this occasion. “You look awesome, too.” She turned to someone next to her. “Doesn’t she?”

 

 

Aria flinched. Noel had appeared by her side soundlessly. He looked dapper in his tux, his prom king crown askew on his head. “Amazing as always,” he said, like a good boyfriend.

 

Was he a good boyfriend? Noel had said she looked beautiful at least twenty times tonight already. And he had gotten her the decor position, something she’d wanted. He even stood by her when she acted like a freak, like she was doing right now.

 

Or was it all a sham? Aria’s mind hadn’t stopped spinning in the same maddening loop of thoughts. It was possible that Noel knew Tabitha. In his e-mail with Fuji, he’d called her a friend—or had he meant Ali? If he had meant Tabitha, was that how he’d gotten her necklace? Was that why he’d told Aria to stay away from Graham on the boat? Maybe Graham had known that Tabitha and Noel were friends, too. Maybe Noel worried he might say something. He hadn’t, of course—but he was going to tell Aria who was watching her.

 

And if Noel did know Tabitha, it meant he would have known her stepmother, Gayle, as well. He could have had inside information on Emily’s secret baby. He could have lurked around Gayle’s old mailbox, waiting for Hanna to return that cash, without seeming too suspicious—maybe he’d told Gayle he’d come over to pick up something Tabitha had borrowed before she disappeared. He might have kept in touch with Gayle after she and her husband moved to Rosewood—he would have known where to find her. And when Gayle saw Noel on the driveway the night Aria, Emily, and the others had gone to her house in fear that Gayle had kidnapped Emily’s baby, he’d killed her before she could yell out his name and expose him.

 

It could make sense. Even Jamaica fit. Aria hadn’t been with Noel every second of that trip—he could have snuck off and coached Tabitha about what she needed to do to freak out Aria and the others. Get them all riled up, he might have said. Get them on the roof, and push Hanna over.

 

Only it hadn’t gone that way—they’d pushed Tabitha instead. But did Noel have it in him to kill Tabitha? Was it the same reason why he’d killed Gayle—because he worried she might tell on him? And was he really doing this all for Ali? Did he really love her that much?

 

Aria shut her eyes. No. Noel didn’t love Ali. Noel was a good person, innocent. The pieces fit because she wanted them to fit, because A was forcing them that way, because even her friends had twisted and knotted and spun things into something that wasn’t true. She had to believe that. She had to give Noel one last chance to explain all of this.

 

Ryan checked her Chanel watch, then slung her arm around their shoulders. “Stay close, you two. It’s almost time for the photo session of the king and queen in the cemetery.”

 

Aria looked around. “Where’s Hanna?” She’d hardly seen any of her friends all night.

 

Noel peered around. “I just saw Hanna and Mike leave a few minutes ago. But I’m sure they didn’t go far.”

 

“I’ll find them,” Ryan said, heading off into the crowd.

 

When she flitted away, Noel turned to Aria. “What do you say we get a drink in the bar across the lobby while we wait? No one will tell on a prom king.” He winked.

 

Aria licked her lips. Your boyfriend wants to get a drink with you, she told herself. He wants time alone with you. Because he loves you.

 

Suddenly, a figure appeared in her peripheral vision. A woman in a gray suit slunk into the room, speaking quietly into a cell phone. Agent Fuji. What was she doing here?

 

She looked at Noel, more determined than ever. “Let’s go.”

 

They crossed the lobby and entered a dark bar. A bartender wiping down the surface with a cloth looked up. “What can I get you?”

 

Noel asked for a whiskey, and Aria ordered a gimlet. Then he turned his sweet, caring green eyes on her. “Are you really okay?”

 

Aria swallowed hard. Thankfully, the bartender chose that exact moment to deliver their drinks. At least she had something to do with her hands.

 

“If you think I’m freaked about the Olaf thing, I’ve put it behind me. I even get it, Aria. I really do.”

 

“I still feel terrible about it,” Aria said into her chest. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 

“It’s okay,” Noel said emphatically, touching her wrist. “It doesn’t change what I told you, though. About Ali, I mean.”

 

Aria flinched at the sound of her name. “Really?”

 

“She kissed me.” He gave her wrist an emphatic squeeze. “I wanted nothing to do with her. I hope you understand that—for real.” He scooted the chair closer. “You mean so much to me, Aria. I can’t even explain how in love with you I am. And if something happened to us—if we broke up again—I would be devastated.” His chin started to wobble. “I might even die. No one else has ever made me feel that way. You have to believe me.”

 

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