“If you want,” Ella said tentatively, giving her a long look.
Since Nick’s attack, Aria had spent almost every minute at the gallery. There were legitimate reasons. One, she did have a job here, though her hours were only part-time. Two, it felt good to be near her strong, stable, comforting mom. And three, she didn’t have anything better to do.
She knew her mom thought it was weird. And she knew the question Ella was dying to ask: What was Aria going to do with herself this summer . . . and next year? Her friends had applied to colleges, and if they completed their course credits, they would still be able to matriculate in the fall. Aria had planned to take a gap year and travel through Europe, but now the idea of going to a foreign country alone sounded daunting. Maybe that was because the last time she’d gone abroad, back to Iceland, she’d been embroiled in an international art scandal and she’d met Nick, Ali’s crazy boyfriend, disguised as a sexy vigilante named Olaf.
She’d halfheartedly considered signing up for an artist retreat in Oregon, but the application deadline was last week. Then she’d toyed with the idea of taking art classes at the University of the Arts in Philly, but the first day had come and gone.
She felt . . . stuck. And freaked. It seemed like whenever Aria shut her eyes, Ali’s face shimmered into her mind. She’d looked so creepy the last time they saw her, like a hollowed-out corpse. The image haunted her so completely that, in hopes of expunging it from her brain, she’d painted Ali’s likeness on a huge canvas in the back of the gallery. She’d painted two versions of Ali, actually: one of the most recent Ali, the girl she saw in the basement of that dilapidated building next to Hanna’s father’s office; the second a portrait of the old Ali, the unattainable, überpopular girl from the beginning of sixth grade. Aria had used an old sketch of Ali she’d drawn the day Ali tore down the Time Capsule poster outside Rosewood Day and announced that she was going to get a piece of the Time Capsule flag. It was from before the twin switch happened. Before Courtney DiLaurentis approached the four of them at the charity drive and asked them to be her besties.
Once she’d finished helping Ella, Aria stepped into the back room and dared to examine both Ali paintings more closely. Usually, she had trouble with portraits—she’d painted a ton of Noel Kahn, her maybe-ex-boyfriend, and none of them quite captured his essence. But Ali’s Ali-ness had flowed from Aria’s brush, every feature chilling and precise. Just by looking at the canvases, she could almost smell Ali’s rotting breath and felt a shiver when she examined her wide, furious eyes. When Aria turned and peered at sixth-grade Ali, the girl’s condescending smirk made her feel as small and insignificant as that day Aria had sat alone on the wall at Rosewood Day sketching her.
She backed out of the room and shut the door. Spending too much time with Ali’s portraits even freaked her out.
She looked around the main gallery space for something to do, but it wasn’t her shift, and the two assistants on duty, Bernie and Sierra, were bored themselves. Suddenly, a figure out the window caught her eye. Her heart leapt into her throat.
Noel.
“Be back in a sec,” she muttered to her mom, darting out the door.
Noel was halfway up the block by the time Aria hit the sidewalk. “Hey!” she called out. “Noel?”
He turned around. The bruises on his face from when Ali and Nick had trapped him in a storage shed behind Rosewood Day on prom night had healed, and his dark hair had grown out a little, curling below his ears. When he saw Aria, though, his expression became guarded.
Heartbreak filled her. When they were together, Noel had always been so happy to see her, even if she interrupted him in the middle of lacrosse practice. He’d always run toward her, his arms outstretched. Did Aria want him to do that now? No. Yes. No. She’d been the one who’d told Noel they couldn’t be together—he’d lied to her for years about knowing the truth about Ali and even visiting her at The Preserve. But lately, she’d begun to second-guess that decision. Everyone made mistakes. Maybe she could forgive Noel.
And God, did she miss him.
“H-hey,” Aria said nervously as she approached. “Thanks for the text.” She had sent Noel a few texts lately, just saying hi, hoping to broach a conversation. Finally, Noel had written back, a simple hi. Maybe it was a sign.
Noel’s brow crinkled for a moment. “Oh. Right. No problem.”
An aching silence followed. Aria pretended to be interested in a bumper sticker on the back of a passing Honda Civic. “What are you doing in this neighborhood, anyway?” she asked finally. Say you came to see me, she willed.
Noel shuffled his feet. “I’m taking an English class at Hollis so I can skip the course requirement next year. A bunch of kids are taking it. Mason, Riley Wolfe . . .”
Aria started to giggle. “Remember the time you told me you thought Riley looked like a leprechaun?”
Noel looked pained. “Um, I should get going.”
Aria grabbed at him. “Wait!” she bleated, hating how desperate she sounded. “Um, maybe we could have coffee soon or something? Or there’s that fund-raiser at the country club—maybe we could go together?” A bunch of society ladies in Rosewood were throwing a party to benefit Rosewood’s disadvantaged and troubled youths, and the whole town was invited. It was kind of ironic, as wealthy, privileged Rosewood really didn’t have many disadvantaged or troubled youths. Ali had kind of been a one-off.
Noel shifted. “I’m busy that night.”