Eight: Isn’t Internet Dating Great?

Early Tuesday evening, Aria sat on a cloth stool in her mother's bathroom, her floral-printed Orla Kiely makeup bag in her lap. She glanced at Ella in her mirror. "Oh my God, no," she said quickly, widening her eyes at the orange stripes on Ella's cheeks. "That's way too much bronzer. You're supposed to look sun-kissed, not sun-broiled."

Her mother frowned and wiped her cheeks with a Kleenex. "It's the dead of winter! What idiot is sun-kissed right now anyway?"

"You want to look like you did when we were in Crete. Remember how tan we all got from that puffin-watching boat cruise? And—" Aria halted abruptly. Maybe she shouldn't have brought up Crete. Byron had been on that trip, too.

But Ella didn't seem fazed. "Tan skin screams melanoma." She touched the pink, spongy roller in her hair. "When do we take these out?"

Aria checked her watch. Ella's big Match.com date, The Rolling Stones-loving man named—shudder—Wolfgang, would be here in fifteen minutes. "Now, I guess." She unclipped the first roller. A lock of Ella's dark hair cascaded down her back. Aria undid the rest, shook the can of Rave, and gave her mother's head a quick spritz. "Voila."

Ella sat back. "It looks great."

Hair and makeup normally weren't Aria's thing, but not only had styling Ella for her big date been fun, it had also been the most time they'd spent together since Aria moved back in. Even better, Ella's makeover had been a good distraction from thinking about Xavier. Aria had obsessed over their conversation at the gallery for the past two days, trying to pick apart whether it had been flirtatious banter or friendly chitchat. Artists were so touchy-freely—it was impossible to tell what they actually meant. Still, she hoped he would call. Aria had signed her first name and cell number in the gallery's register, putting an asterisk by it. Artists looked at those register books, didn't they? She couldn't help but picture their first date—it would start with finger-painting and end with a messy make-out session on Xavier's studio floor.

Ella picked up a mascara wand and leaned in to the mirror. "Are you sure you're okay with me going on a date?"

"Of course." But the truth was that Aria wasn't sure how promising this date was going to be. The guy's name was Wolfgang, for God's sake. What if he spoke in rhymes? What if he was the guy who impersonated Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart for the Hollis Conservatory's Great Composers of History festival? What if he showed up in a doublet and hose and a powdered wig?

Ella stood up and walked back into the bedroom. Halfway across the carpet, she abruptly stopped. "Oh."

Her eyes were on the teal res Aria had laid out on the queen-size bed. Earlier that afternoon, Aria had gone through Ella's closet for an appropriate date outfit, worried she wouldn't find anything among the dashikis tunics, and Tibetan prayer robes Ella typically wore. The dress had been stuffed in the back, still wrapped in dry-cleaning plastic. It was simple and slimming, with just the tiniest scalloping at the neck. Aria had thought it was a perfect choice…but judging by her mother's face, she suddenly wasn't so sure.

Her mother sat down next to the dress, touching its silky fabric. "I forgot I had this," she said in a small voice. "I wore it to a Hollis benefit when Byron finally got tenure. It was the same night you slept over at Alison DiLaurentis's house for the first time. We had to run out and get you a sleeping bag because you didn't have one, remember?"

Aria sank down in the striped wing chair in the corner of the room. She remembered the first sleepover at Ali's house perfectly. It was right after Ali had approached Aria at the Rosewood Day charity drive and asked for her help in sorting through the luxury items. Aria's first instinct had been that Ali had done it on a dare. Just the week before, Ali had asked Chassey Bledsoe to try a spritz of a new perfume she'd discovered. It turned out that the "perfume" was actually murky, poop-filled water from the Rosewood duck pond.

Ella cradled the dress in her lap. "So I guess you know about Byron's—that Meredith's…" She cupped her hands near her stomach, miming a pregnant belly."

Aria bit her lip and nodded silently, her heart aching. This was the first time Ella had mentioned Meredith's condition. She'd tried her hardest to steer Ella away from all pregnancy to think she could avoid it forever.

Ella sighed, her jaw tense. "Well, I guess it's time to create a new memory in this dress. It's time to move on." She glanced at Aria. "How about you? Have you moved on?"

Aria raised an eyebrow. "From Byron?"

Ella pushed her wavy hair over her shoulder. "No. I meant your teacher. Mr…Fitz."

"You…know about that?"

Ella traced her finger down the dress's side zipper. "Your dad told me." She smiled uncomfortably. "I guess Mr. Fitz went to Hollis. Byron heard something about him being asked to leave Rosewood Day…because of you." She glanced at Aria again. "I wish you would've come to me about this."

Aria stared across the room at a large abstract painting Ella had done of Aria and Mike floating through outer space. She hadn't reached out to Ella at the time because Ella hadn't been answering her calls.

Ella's eyes lowered sheepishly, as if she'd just realized this too. "He didn't…take advantage of you, did he?"

Aria shook her head, hiding behind her hair. "No. It was pretty innocent."

She thought about the few times she'd actually spent with Ezra—the dark, sticky make-out session in the bathroom at Snooker's, a kiss in his school office, a few stolen hours at his apartment in Old Hollis. Ezra had been the first guy Aria thought she loved, and it had seemed that he loved her, too. When he'd told Aria to look him up in a few years, Aria had figured that meant he would wait for her. But someone who was waiting for her would have called every once in a while, right? She wondered if she'd been really naive.

Aria took a deep breath. "Maybe we weren't right for each other. But I might've met someone new."

"Really?" Ella sat down on the bed and began to remove her slippers and socks. "Who?"

"Just…someone," Aria said lightly. She didn't want to jinx things. "I'm not sure about it yet."

"Well, that's great." Ella touched the top of Aria's head so lovingly, tears came to Aria's eyes. They were finally talking. Maybe things were becoming normal between them again.

Ella lifted up the dress by its hanger and carried it in the bathroom. As she shut the door and turned on the tap, the doorbell rang.

"Shit." Ella poked her head out of the bathroom door, her smoky eyes wide. "He's early. Will you get it?"

"Me?" Aria squeaked.

"Tell him I'll be down in a second." Ella slammed the door shut.

Aria blinked. The doorbell rang again. She rushed over to the bathroom. "What should I do if he's really ugly?" she whispered loudly through the door. "What if he has hair growing out of his ears?"

"It's only one date, Aria," Ella laughed.

Aria squared her shoulders and walked to the foot of the stairs. She could see a shadowy figure shifting back and forth through the mottled glass of the front door.

Taking a deep breath, she whipped the door open. A guy with short hair stood on the stoop. For a moment, Aria couldn't speak.

"…Xavier?" she finally squeaked.

"Aria?" Xavier narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Are…you…?"

"Hello?" Ella glided down the stairs behind them, fastening a hoop earring in her ear. The teal dress fit her perfectly, and her dark hair spilled down her back. "Hi!" Ella chirped to Xavier, grinning widely. "You must be Wolfgang!"

"Oh God, no." Xavier's hand flew to his mouth. "That's my profile name." His eyes darted from Aria to Ella. A smile bloomed across his lips, almost like he was trying not to laugh. Standing under the light in the foyer, he looked quite a bit older—probably in his early thirties, at least. "My name is Xavier, actually. And you're Ella?"

"Yes." Ella put her hand on Aria's shoulder. "And this is my daughter, Aria."

"I know," Xavier said slowly.

Ella looked confused. "We met on Sunday," Aria quickly interjected, still not able to shake the baffled tone from her voice. "At that gallery opening. Xavier was one of the artists."

"You're Xavier Reeves?" Ella cried gleefully. "I was going to go to your show, but I gave my invite to Aria instead." She looked at Aria. "I was so busy today I didn't even ask you about it! Was it good?"

Aria blinked rapidly. "I…"

Xavier touched Ella's arm. "She can't say anything bad about it with me standing here! Ask her after I'm gone."

Ella chortled as if this was the funniest thing anyone had ever said. Then she slung her arm around Aria's shoulders. Aria could feel her mother's forearm shaking. She's nervous, Aria thought. Ella had totally fallen for Xavier at first sight.

"This is a crazy coincidence, huh?" Xavier said.

"It's a wonderful coincidence," Ella corrected.

She turned to Aria expectantly. Aria felt the need to paste the same dumb smile on her face. "It's wonderful," she echoed. Wonderfully weird.