A/N: Some Quick Facts About This Fic:
Chapters: 7
Pairing(s): Emily x Alison, Emily x Mona.
Rated: T for sexual themes, mild language and violent references.
Notes: I love Emison, I love Mona, I love love triangles and that's why this started as a oneshot and then got wildly out of hand.

LITTLE BUTTERFLIES

And they go, 'Well you know if you want to talk about it
I'll be here you know and you'll probably feel a lot better
If you talked about it, so why don't you talk about it'
I go, 'No, I don't want to; I'm okay. I'll figure it out myself'
"Institutionalized" — Suicidal Tendencies

I

Emily does not know how she got onto the airplane.

She remembers making the plans, her mother's pain and empathy when she explained the situation, and somehow getting through security and to the proper terminal. Yet, it all seemed like such a blur that she sits in stunned silence, her jacket folded neatly on her lap and her sunglasses balancing neatly atop her raven hair.

"Are you okay, miss?" asks the sweet slender flight attendant with the subtle southern twang in her voice. "You don't look alright."

Emily swallows any honest words and politely replies, "Yeah. Just tired. Thank you."

As the woman strides away, Emily wonders how the pain and disorientation could be so blatantly written on her face. She always thought she was far more fluent at concealing the chaos in her mind.

She listens to music for the duration of the flight.

When her mom picks her up, Emily gazes out of the car window and studies the falling orange autumn leaves. Most of the quaint Rosewood houses are adorned with Halloween decorations. Emily's eyes mist at the familiar sights she thought she had escaped three years ago.

At home, Emily strides past a skeleton and a ghost, lugging her bag into the house. Her mom shuts the door and empathetically frowns at her daughter. It makes Emily's skin crawl.

"I'm okay," insists Emily, but her mom pulls her into an embrace as tight as when she escaped the dollhouse. "Really."

"You're not," her mom insists. "You're not okay, but you're going to get better."

After that, they barely exchange a word. Pam seems uncomfortable and Emily will not push it. She just gazes at the raindrops racing each other down the car window.

At home, Emily immediately goes to sleep.

[X]

For two weeks, Emily lies in bed and barely moves. She is weak from pain and hunger but cannot bring herself to eat unless her mom sets a snack or meal in front of her. All she can think about is being a failure, about her friends whose lives managed to improve, about what she could possibly say to Ali that would not be humiliating.

She hides her tears, hand pressed over her mouth, unwilling to make her mom worry.

Pam has been through enough.

[X]

On the first day of her third week back in Rosewood, Emily at last forces herself to get up and out of bed. After a few minutes of deep contemplation, she texts Alison and asks her to meet at the Brew. She does not want to be alone while she faces this shame head on. She gets dressed—trying on several different outfits—and then transfers all of her items from her old backpack into her purse.

She walks to the coffee shop and does not see Ali inside. But she does see a person who makes her heart drop into her stomach.

Mona stands behind the counter, handing a drink to someone who might be her friend, and when she sees Emily holds up a to-go cup of something presumably suspect. Emily freezes in place at the sight of someone who could only make her feel worse about everything that happened.

"Do you want this?" offers Mona, with a strange smile. "It was left abandoned and lonely on the counter a minute ago and I'm not going to drink it. I don't do whipped cream."

Emily says smoothly, "Thank you for the offer, but I'm not really craving poison today."

Mona tilts her head to the side. Emily hates how those bright eyes vivisect her.

"You don't have to explain yourself," says the nightmare of a young woman.

Emily brusquely replies, "I didn't think I had to."

"Yes. You do. That's why you've been avoiding everyone's eyes since you walked in. You're afraid they'll ask you what happened at college." Silence. "I know the feeling."

Emily demands, "Why are you here? Weren't you at Mt. Holyoke?"

"Was I?" Mona shrugs and sets down the unclaimed coffee. She picks up her slouch purse and strides out the door.

Emily never knows what to make of that girl. Finally, Ali shows up, a bit late, but gliding beautifully and swiftly on her high pale pink heels.

"I'm sorry I took so long," says Alison. "Chemistry class ran super late today. I still have no clue why an aspiring English teacher needs to know Chemistry for her tests. Oh, and it starts at seven. I'm supposed to pay attention to the most boring subject in the universe starting at seven…"

"Do you know what happened with Mona?" Emily inquires, attempting to sound casual.

Alison innocently asks, "Why? Was she bothering you?"

"Not… as much as she could've been. She just said something about…"

Ali nods and explains, "She dropped out of Mt. Holyoke and went back to living with her parents two yearsish ago. I think she dropped out of Hollis too. Hollis." Ali blanches. "You're—you're a different case, Em."

Emily bristles. "Yeah. I failed out of college. I didn't even have the dignity of dropping out."

"It isn't about dignity. College isn't for everyone," Alison states, and she means it.

"Tell that to the collective Instas of Spencer, Aria and Hanna." Emily suppresses a sigh of defeat.

"Nobody portrays their lives like they really are," Alison says, taking Emily's hand. It sends a volt of electricity through the latter girl's body. "Maybe you should delete that app for a while."

"Ali, I love you, but I don't need that advice. I can take care of myself."

"I want to take care of you. I can't help it," says Ali, squeezing Emily's hand.

They catch up over coffee while the sun reaches its apex over Rosewood.

[X]

The next day, Emily wakes up when her mom gets home from work. She slowly rises from her bed and slides her feet into panda slippers before padding down the stairs.

"Em," says her mom. "You're… in your pajamas."

"I just woke up," Emily admits, trying not to make eye contact. "I was awake thinking last night about finding something to do while I'm figuring things out. I thought maybe I could apply for my old job at the Brew. It would get me out of the house."

"If that's what you want," Pam states, but she clearly has reservations. Emily pretends not to notice them.

"I wasn't abducted or tortured or anything. Way worse things have happened to me; I just got bad grades and had to leave school. You can stop treating me like I'm made of glass," she says as kindly as she can manage.

Pam looks hurt and Emily's gut twists. "I don't mean to be. I'm just trying to be supportive."

"Right." Emily wraps her arms around herself. "I just don't want to think about this stuff, okay? I don't want to think about dad or school or the face of the college president when I filled out the paperwork or Paige or anything else, okay? I just want to pretend it never happened."

"Okay," says her mom, but Emily doubts she will drop it altogether.

No one will. It will surround her while she just tries to take time to figure things out.

For the entire afternoon, Emily stares at the walls of her room and tries to think. She slides her phone under her pillow and avoids looking at the happy, perfect lives of everyone else she knows. How did they all get over these years so easily?

She tries to remember the last time she truly was happy. She cannot. Maybe middle school, possibly freshman year.

Centuries have gone by since she genuinely smiled.

[X]

Two afternoons later, on a cold and cloudy day, Emily walks into the Brew in a professional but not too professional outfit. She sees Mona leaning over the side of the counter and frowns. At first, she assumes she is being stalked, until she sees her taking the order of a middle-aged woman and typing it into the cash register.

After waiting her turn, Emily walks up to get her application. From the last person she wants to know about it. She was expecting Ezra; she receives Mona.

"You work here?" asks Emily, unable to hide how bewildered she is.

"You're one to judge, seeing as you came in here to fill out an application." Pause. Mona rolls her eyes. "I was told to wait and give it to you when you showed up. You don't have to faint."

"I didn't…" Emily blushes and averts her eyes.

"Didn't mean it like that," Mona finishes, waving her hand dismissively.

Emily fumbles to try to explain herself. "You just have enough money to… not work here."

"I got a little stir-crazy." Mona hands Emily the application and hesitantly follows her across the room.

As politely as possible, Emily asks, "How long have you been in Rosewood?"

"I left Mt. Holyoke barely after freshman orientation ended. So, about two years," Mona recites, having said it a thousand frustrating times before.

"And Hollis?" Emily asks, subtly leaning forward.

"Too boring." Mona sighs and sits down across from Emily. "Way too boring. I thought I'd claw my own face off with my nails if I had to study Shakespeare-for-babies one day longer. And I could do the math class with my eyes closed. Literally. I did."

"Yeah… it's not the pinnacle of education, I guess. Princeton would still have you, I'm sure. Or MIT or any of the other thousand schools you got into."

"Yes. They would. But I would not have them. This conversation is incredibly blasé. Do you have anything interesting to talk about or should I go polish stainless steel?" Pause. "When did you and Paige break up? Did your life crumble all at once or was it a slow descent?" Pause. "Fine. I guess I won't pressure you. Are you stuck on the application?"

Emily ignores the cruel comments and sighs. "It wants to know if I've ever been arrested."

"Everyone in Rosewood knows your story and I honestly don't think anyone will care, especially not—"

Ezra interrupts from beside a bookshelf, "Emily?"

"Hi." She says, gracefully rising to her feet and letting him hug her.

"I was hoping I'd catch you," he says. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Why would it not be?"

"Because I know you had to come home from school and with the loss…" Ezra trails off, discouraged by the look in Emily's eyes.

"I'm fine," Emily says.

"That's good," he hastily replies.

When Emily looks over her shoulder, she sees Mona has vanished.

[X]

The loud bell tower ringtone of her phone wakes Emily in midmorning. She fumbles for it and answers the call. The Brew. Ezra wants to set up her first day and she says the earlier the better. Afterward, she hangs up and drags herself through a morning routine. Something has sapped away the energy that used to fill her.

When she tells her mom about the job, Pam frowns. Emily does not get it.

"You've had a very traumatic couple of years. Are you sure you want to dive into something so quickly?" asks her mom. Emily rubs her arm.

"I think I'll go crazy if I don't do something with my time, and I feel wrong about eating your food and living in your house."

"You're my daughter," Pam vehemently says. "You could never be a burden."

"I should be at college and I should be on my way to a real job and a real apartment of my own. Living at home is…" Emily begins to nervously scratch her elbow.

"Normal for someone your age," Pam says. "But if the job makes you happy, you should go ahead and try it."

Emily's phone rings and she gives her mom an apologetic expression before answering it.

It is Ali, a voice Emily feels less glad to hear than she thought she would be. Something about this girl, this girl she loves, is off now. Like the shame that flows through Emily's veins is more visible to her than to everyone else.

"You alright?" asks the girl on the other line.

Emily strides outside and takes a breath.

"People seem to ask me that a lot now."

"You just waited a long time to say hello, sweetie. That's all."

"I didn't mean to jump down your throat. Things at home are just tense."

"Why?"

"I just actually miss my dorm room. It didn't have anything attached to it."

"But it must be good to be with your mom. You two need each other right now."

"I love her, but I think she's really scared of losing me right now and it's getting frustrating."

"I also kind of get it. I don't talk to my dad anymore."

"I'd never abandon my mom in a thousand years, but I need money for my own place."

"That'll take a long time in Rosewood."

"Then I guess I'll be an indentured servant for as long as I need to."

Alison politely laughs, but Emily can tell she pities her. Maybe it is not pity; maybe it is sympathy, but Emily does not want either.

"How are you other than that?"

"I got a job at the Brew. I start tomorrow."

"That's exciting. I can visit you every day."

"Yeah. I'm gonna go. I'll text you later," Emily says. Something twists in the pit of her stomach as Ali bids her goodbye and hangs up.

She sits down on her porch, still in her pajamas, and starts flipping through her phone. An Instagram feed of fashion, a few celebrities, and the joyous, normal, happy college lives of her best friends. Emily wonders if she will ever be able to talk to them again and at that moment closes the app. Promptly, she deletes it, then her Facebook app, and Snapchat and everything else that reminds her of what a failure she is.

Emily lifts her eyes from her phone and gazes at the town from which she ran across the country to escape.

She does not know if she will ever be free of Rosewood.

[X]

Emily wakes early for the first time since she left school and goes to work. She smooths her clothes and begins making fancy coffee drinks for the new generation of Rosewood teenagers. It makes her skin crawl to see them sitting, talking, grabbing drinks before school while they laugh about petty gossip. She wishes she could reminisce about high school, but it was worse than now.

A voice from behind interrupts her serene state of mind.

"You flunked out," bluntly remarks Mona, and it feels like a stab to the chest.

Emily ignores that sharp, sudden pain and says, "I was waiting for you to say that. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," Mona replies. "Word hasn't traveled, if that makes you feel any better."

"Will it?"

"Yes. Not from me, probably, but it will." Mona takes a break in speaking to grind ice and make a frozen drink for a buxom brunette girl. When she stops, she calmly explains the obvious. "People talk. People talk about you."

"And just when I finally got boring to this town," Emily mutters.

Mona mutters, "Speak of the Devil and she shall arrive."

"What?" Emily asks, whipping around to face her colleague.

"Em!" Alison calls from the door.

It brightens the eyes of the tired barista. Alison strides up to the counter, gliding in her heels, and she sets her purse on the glass pastry guard.

Ali inquires, "How's your first day of work?"

"Not as bad as I feared but not as good as I hoped." Alison smiles, and Emily begins making her the drink she always ordered.

"So, anything new?" Emily inquires.

Alison asks a question instead of giving an answer. "Do you need a place to stay?"

Emily sets down the drink without putting the cap on, puzzled by that abrupt and unwarranted statement. "Are you offering? I have my house and my mom won't let me go very easily."

"But you're miserable there, if I gathered from the phone call," Alison smoothly says, sounding so genuine that Emily feels breathless. "I was thinking about it all of yesterday after talking to you."

"We could try it," Emily says. She wants to believe she and her mom need each other but Emily cannot fathom staying any longer in a place constructed from bad memories and decorated with broken dreams. "I'll come over after work if you want."

Alison smiles and takes a sip of her coffee. "I'd like that."

Emily says, "Me too."

Ali waves like a princess and walks out of the Brew, and the day passes surprisingly brightly following the revelation and the new plans.

After work, night falls, and Emily feels a sudden surge of panic when she sees Mona starting to close the shop. She does not know why. She never understands her emotions anymore.

She blurts out from strange and sudden fear, "Ali is waiting for me."

Mona does not even look up from the cash register when she chimes, "Oh, is your master calling? I guess the puppy should run along then."

Emily's expression sours. "Yeah. Maybe this puppy should."

She scurries from the Brew and runs all the way home, as versatile as Catwoman in her heeled boots. The surge of adrenaline is the first good feeling she has had since her dad died.

Life confuses her.

[X]

After packing the few belongings she actually cares about in two seafoam suitcases, Emily has dinner with her mom—a woman reluctant to let her go again—drives to Alison's house.

Once Emily knocks on the door and Ali swings it open, the latter girl throws her arms around the body of the former and pulls her into a perfumey embrace. They break apart and Alison wordlessly grabs one of the suitcases. She steps back and Emily follows her inside.

It always smells vaguely like sweet pea lotion in the DiLaurentis home, with a hint of a vague sharper scent that Emily's mind never placed.

"It's going to be nice to live with someone else. It gets lonely here," Alison says, picking up one of Emily's bags and striding up the stairs. Emily follows her and they set down the luggage on the plush guest room bed.

"I'm happy about it too," Emily says, although she knows Ali is well aware. "I'm going to the bathroom; I'll be back."

"Have a nice trip," Alison lowly chimes, and Emily walks out of the room.

When she finally returns, she sees Alison on her phone, scrolling through Instagram. Emily tries not to look at the pictures and instead fixes her gaze on her sore feet.

Alison comments, prompting Emily to one again look up, "I haven't seen you on anything lately. Should I be worried?"

"I've deleted my social media. I'm not really interested in seeing how perfect everyone's lives are. It's not a good feeling."

Alison frowns, and then she smiles because she has a brilliant idea.

"How about we post an Instagram pic the world will be jealous of?" Alison offers, a smile creeping onto her lovely face.

Emily nods. Ali picks up her phone and prepares for the selfie, while Emily remains confused. Slowly, Alison turns around and kisses Emily on the cheek. With the pictures, it does progress, until they settle on the perfect one. It shows flowing blonde hair and shiny raven locks and two young women smiling into a kiss.

Alison adds the perfect filter and flawless tags and Emily begins to suffocate.

[X]

A few minutes later, Emily rummages around for her phone. She promised her mom that she would call as soon as she got to Ali's. Emily sighs and walks out into the cold night air to fetch her purse from her car; she must have forgotten it.

A streetlamp on the street flickers at uneven intervals, drawing Emily's attention for a few moments. She picks up pace again, her bare feet stinging on the rough driveway. Just as she is about to reach her car, she runs into a familiar older woman walking back from her mailbox.

"Emily?" she asks, sounding pleasantly surprised.

"Hi, Mrs. Hastings." Emily's heart enters tachycardia and her stomach churns.

Veronica smiles. "I didn't know you'd be in town."

"Oh. I…" Emily begins to panic. She does not know how to describe what happened. "I decided to take the semester off of college to be here in town for my mom."

Mrs. Hastings nods with that same downcast expression of sympathy over the loss of Emily's dad. She seems uncomfortable and Emily wonders what she should do about it. No social etiquette ever prepared her for this situation.

"Will you be going back to the same school?"

Emily swiftly lies, "I think I'm going to change to somewhere on the East Coast."

Veronica flashes a professional and prim smile. "Oh, I could give you some names of schools I have contacts at if it would help your search."

"That would be really nice of you." Emily nods. It is the last thing she wants, but she does not think the woman who raised Spencer and Melissa would take kindly to Emily's doubts about college being the right path in the first place.

"Are you visiting Alison?"

"I'm staying with her for a little while."

"I think she could use that support as much as you can. Anyway, I'm running late for dinner with a client and we'll have to catch up later."

"Bye, Mrs. Hastings." Emily waves, and she hurriedly opens her car, grabs her forgotten bag and races back inside.

Emily sits down on the sofa and turns on the television, still catching her breath. She looks through the plasma screen instead of at it, and she does not hear Alison loudly making cocoa in the kitchen. Her thoughts spiral wildly out of control, images, fears, angers, regrets…

She flinches when Ali walks into the room, humming; it snaps her back to reality.

Alison sets a mug of hot chocolate in front of Emily and sits beside her. The sweet scent of cocoa-saturated marshmallows fills Emily's nostrils, and when she touches the blue porcelain cup it almost burns her hand. She leaves it be and takes in a slow breath.

"What are you thinking about?" the blonde kindly inquires.

"Do you ever look at the arrival and departure boards at the airport?" Emily asks.

"Only when I have to," Alison replies.

"I did when I was at the airport, waiting to go home after my failure."

"It wasn't—"

"Ali, please let me finish."

"Okay."

"I was looking up at those boards and the names of places flickering by. They were like seeing other people's passwords; that's the only way I can describe it. And every single one represented a tiny little chunk of everything I'll never get to see before I die. All because, as the arrow on the map so helpfully told me: you are here."

Alison freezes for a moment, shocked by that miniature monologue. She finally comments, "That's… that's deep."

Emily rolls her shoulders and leans back against the sofa. "It's just the way I feel, I guess." "Why do you feel that way?"

"I wish I knew. I don't really understand anything anymore because, because, because it's like it never stops," Emily softly says. "The past years have been a mess and it never stops. I keep wondering what I did to deserve this—this downward—this slope to Hell."

Ali rubs her lips together, smearing a tidbit of pink gloss on her skin.

She starts sorting Emily's clothes and sliding them into her almost-unused top dresser drawer. "Oh, honey, if you're looking for those kinds of answers you know you won't get them."

Emily whispers, "Well, it's pretty miserable, and it's pretty unfair."

Alison weighs her options, gazing into Emily's eyes and then at her lips. They are chapped and it makes Alison's eyes dewy. She decides the best thing to do is move on, because the platitudes she will offer can only serve to make the situation worse.

"Should we watch The Notebook or The Notebook?"

Emily faintly smiles, and Ali smiles back.

[X]

In the morning, Alison sleeps in since she has no classes. Emily, however, needs to get to work. She gets into the shower and dries her hair before garbing herself in a metallic and mint outfit, accented with studded sneakers. After that, she adjusts herself in the mirror, then grabs her purse and car keys.

When she arrives the Brew, entering an empty but warm shop, she sees Mona already setting up for the day, moving smoothly and easily in her billowy floral top and amazing nude heels. Her perfume is strong enough for Emily to pick up on it across the room, and it makes the air taste metallic.

"I like your shoes," Emily says as she retrieves an apron and ties it on.

Ignoring the compliment, Mona calmly and casually remarks, "You have more reasons to distrust her than distrust me."

"Who?" Emily asks, frowning. She wonders why she has to put up with this.

"Your little human excuse last night. Alison wasn't waiting for you, was she? But she's like the burly boyfriend, right?" A flicker of a smile crosses her face. "Don't worry; I'm not hitting on you. But I'm also not afraid of her."

"She was, and I don't have any reason to mistrust Ali. She's…"

Mona coolly asks, "Have you ever heard of Voltaire?"

"Should I have?" Emily hotly demands.

"He's a French writer and philosopher most famous for Candide."

"We had to read that in sophomore English, didn't we?"

"Yes. He once said that to learn who rules over you, simply find out who you are not allowed to criticize."

"I can criticize her. I don't want to because I'm a good friend. Maybe we should work in silence today."

"Maybe."

[X]

Later that day, still at work, Emily begins cleaning them mirror in the lilac-hued and simplistically styled bathroom. When she smells the cleaning fluid, she drops it. It spills all over the floor, only worsening the overpowering scent that reminds her of everything that went awry. This was the exact same smell in the dollhouse; it must have been what that psycho bitch cleaned the place with.

She feels too humiliated to walk back into the crowded store, but she feels like she needs to escape the overpowering smell too. Emily hastily strides past the counter and enters the kitchen, where she can be alone.

Emily crumbles on the floor. Her thoughts go from traumatic memories she always runs from, to the fact that she will always be a miserable failure who cannot handle anything, who lost so much, lost her dad, lost her dreams of college and—

"Xanax?" Mona asks, as if offering a piece of peppermint gum.

She entered the kitchen once she saw the way Emily walked, and is glad that she did now that she sees the usually-composed girl holding back tears while hugging her knees to her chest.

Emily manages to say, "I don't think people are supposed to share those."

Mona frowns. "I'm just being nice. You could use it."

Emily's first instinct is to run. Instead, she accepts the little white pill and takes a sip of her fizzy Cherry Pepsi. The sweetness on Emily's tongue betters her condition ever-so-slightly.

"Don't you dare make fun of me," Emily sternly states, fiercely locking eyes with Mona.

For ages upon ages, Mona stands there in silence. Emily struggles to breathe, sipping the Pepsi while the memories keep overpowering her rational mind.

At last, Mona speaks. She reluctantly admits, "I left school because I tried to kill myself."

Emily screws the cap on her drink and quietly inquires, "Really?"

"Yes. I didn't leave my bed for six months after my mom brought me home. Now, I don't know what will happen next in my life and that's a very new feeling for me. But an oddly freeing one. I always thought it would be nice to be one of those little butterflies who never worry."

"Those little butterflies?" Emily asks, cocking an eyebrow.

"I don't have a better word for it." Pause. "Some people are little butterflies and some people are plastic folding chairs. We're the latter."

"There's no we." Emily's cheeks heat up.

"If you say so."

"Could you look in the other direction?"

"Listen, I don't feel bad for you. Not one bit. I'm not made uncomfortable by panic attacks and I also think you need to learn a few lessons about self-acceptance and not being so woe-is-me." Mona frowns. "It's not embarrassing to have a breakdown. It's embarrassing to assume I pity you."

Emily's breath catches. Then she slowly stands up.

"That…" She fumbles for words. "That was actually just what I needed to hear."

"Yeah. I honestly think I might be the only person in this town who understands exactly everything you're going through."

"It makes me sick to my stomach, but I think you're right." Pause. "Why did you do it?"

"Whip you into damn shape?"

"You know what I'm asking."

"Yeah. And you're going to have to put a little more time into me if you want to find out. Here's your purse; invest in waterproof mascara, and I'll see you tomorrow." Mona sets down Emily's bag and walks away.

While her breathing begins to ease, Emily subtly smiles.

[X]

The day after her panic attack, Emily makes a coffee for Alison in the mid-afternoon. Today is shockingly warm and temperate, and the sunlight pouring through the Brew windows nearly blinds Emily while she works. Mona stands casually at the cash register nearby and Emily struggles to look at her for long. She feels as if she knows too much. Emily sets the drink down in front of Ali.

"I'm about to go on my lunch break. Do you want to meet up?" Emily asks.

Alison's eyes flash wide and Emily furrows her brow. The sweat on Alison DiLaurentis glistens in the sunlight that pours through the windows.

"I'm—uh—I'm studying all afternoon. I have a big test first thing tomorrow morning and I was thinking we could have another movie night tonight. French films."

"Oh. Um, have fun studying." Emily smiles as Alison leaves too quickly, stumbling once in the heels she usually glides in.

After a beat, Mona remarks to Emily, "I've seen better acting from extras in Godzilla movies."

"What?" Emily demands, although she knows exactly what Mona means.

"Alison, obviously. I guess she must be advancing in girlfriend training because she's nervous enough around you to poorly lie."

"I'm sure she meant it. There's nothing she has to hide."

Mona pointedly rolls her eyes, and then suggests, "You should follow her."

"I'm not following Ali."

"If you're so dedicated to proving me wrong, you would," states Mona with an icy fervor.

"We have to work," Emily protests, grasping at straws.

Mona glances over each shoulder, confirming the shop is empty, save for the owner who is fixated on the mystery bookshelf. She then grabs one of the vanilla cream containers and splashes it all over Emily's mint green top. Emily yelps and Ezra steps out from behind the books.

Mona sweetly says, "Ezra, Emily had an accident and I need to take her to get another outfit. Can we share a lunch break today?"

"Yeah. I can take over for a bit," he offers. Emily can see in his eyes that it comes out of pity for her situation and it makes her queasy.

As soon as Emily and Mona grab their purses and get out the door, the former swimmer hisses, "You made it sound like I wet my pants."

Mona laughs. "I know. Now, hurry before we lose her trail."

Emily mutters a few obscenities to herself as she unlocks her car and she and Mona both get inside. She starts driving, following the car she knows to be Ali's. They stay with two cars between them until Alison parks her car at a café.

Mona grabs the steering wheel and directs them at the side of the street. Emily yanks it back and parks a ways away from Alison.

"She could be studying at a café. That is not abnormal. This was a waste of time and my second favorite shirt," insists Emily.

Mona shakes her head. "Give it a moment, will you?"

Emily sighs, but she has to kill some time before she returns to the Brew, or else Ezra will know she lied. So, she watches Alison, and then sees a boy even Emily knows is handsome sit down across from her. Maybe a study buddy.

And then he takes Alison by the wrist and pulls her into a passionate kiss.

It makes Emily's heart plummet into her stomach, but she reminds herself that she and Alison are not actually dating. Despite the closeness, despite the fact that she knows Alison will lead her on for eternity. It kills her, but she must hide it from Mona.

"It's not a big deal," Emily lies.

"I try not to reuse old lines, but, again, I've seen better acting from extras in Godzilla movies."

"She can date who she wants. We're not… we're not really dating."

"Maybe you can change her honesty settings once you get her shirt off. Robots have those, don't they?"

"Do you have honesty settings?"

"Try me."

"Fine. Ninety-five."

"I woke up this morning to my cat puking on my bed while I was still in it."

"Never mind. Seventy."

"Your outfit looks better with coffee spilled all over it."

"Fifty?"

"That's a very depressing setting, Emily."

"It would be an improvement."

"Fine. My honesty settings are on fifty. You should confront her."

"I'm not confronting her. There's no reason for that. We're doing really well and I'm not going to ruin it over something this petty."

"She's cheating on you."

"We're not dating."

"I apparently got the absolute wrong impression."

"There's no need for that kind of sarcasm. We're not dating and so she's not cheating and one little lie isn't a big deal."

"Do you ever sleep in the same bed?" Mona asks, a smirk creeping onto her face.

Emily asks, "So, you have a cat? What's its name?"

"Lola. Do you two share a bed?"

"Why are you so interested in my personal life?" Emily sighs and gets out of the car. "Forget that question. You live vicariously through people who are capable of experiencing love. I'll see you."

"This is your car," Mona dryly states, pointing at the steering wheel.

"I'll see you," Emily repeats, this time through clenched teeth.

"Do you want the car back or can I keep it?"

Emily continues walking away, shivering in the autumn air and crunching golden leaves beneath her feet with each step.