The Difference Between Us // Emison AU

Chp. 8

Toby Cavanaugh passed Emily Fields a beer as she sat and stared at her phone's screen while waiting at Mark's Bar & Lounge up near NYU.

Toby looked over Emily's shoulder hoping to get a view of what she was staring at, but as the minutes ticked by and the screen didn't light up, he began to find it hard to understand why she was staring so intently.

"Waiting for a hot date?" He asked.

Emily lifted her eyes, startled. "Um... n-no. What makes you think that?"

Toby shrugged and took a sip of his beer. "I don't know. You're just spending so much time staring at it instead of talking. I don't think your eyes are going to make much happen though."

Emily shrugged as nonchalantly as she possibly could before raising the ice cold beer bottle to her lips. "Yeah, it's nothing. I'm just waiting for Jason to send me a message from our boss on the gala."

"Your boss?" Toby narrowed his eyebrows. "I thought your whole goal was to work for yourself."

"That whole plan would've worked out if I had actually made a decent living. But I was scrounging around for food for my family and myself. You and I both know that's no way to live," Emily said before she'd let the bitter tasting liquid run down her throat.

Toby nodded and mimicked his best friend. "I guess you're right."

Emily couldn't help but mull over the thought of her and Alison the night before. It was all so much.

And slowly but surely, all Emily could think of were her eyes. The deep blue that were somewhat lighter than Jason's, but not by much. The eyes she could get lost in that caused her such upset. She couldn't focus on anything else but her.

Alison.

Alison Dilaurentis.

* * *
A knock on her father's business door caused Alison to look up from her work, her mind absolutely blank.

She set down her blue fountain pen, one she had gotten from her grandmother, and did her best to fix her hair.

Who could be bothering her at this hour? Nobody ever came to visit.

She looked down at her work and noticed the many numbers she had been writing concerning the projected gala sales. Emily's gala sales.

The night before replayed in her head. Emily's hands touching hers as they passed the red bottle of aged wine back and forth.

"My father won't even notice it's gone. Every week he has something new imported. I'm not even sure what this one is," Alison said dismissively.

Emily turned the bottle over in her hands and grinned. "It's in French, that's why."

The two tried their hardest to pronounce what they saw and only ended up laughing at one another.

"Mayfooo," Alison attempted.

"That's not even close," Emily laughed.

"Oh yeahhh? And you're a genius Ms. Big Time ArtIST," Alison hiccuped as she tried her best to enunciate her words over the drunken inclination to slur.

Emily had begun to laugh so hard, she rolled back onto the floor so that she was staring at the ceiling.

Alison threw herself down next to Emily, the empty bottle, save a few more sips, lying in between them.